It goes without saying, that “adulting” (as I like to call it) is a big old load of responsibility. When I was a little girl I would wave to my mom as I headed to the bus stop- she would be in her robe, clutching a coffee cup that said “Do not disturb, in the process of waking up.” I never really understood what the cup meant but I was so envious of her still being in her robe. Off I went, dragging along my backpack and “Trapper Keeper” while my mom did….what? I couldn’t imagine. Her days were totally up to her. All of her kids off to school and she could lounge about, watching reruns of “Bewitched” and “The Price is Right”. I can only recall those two as that was what you watched if you were home sick from school.
Now that I am a mother myself, I laugh at what I thought my mom did compared to what she actually did. I must have lived with the illusion of a Grocery Fairy, Cleaning Fairy, Carpool Fairy, Lunch Packing Fairy. Now that I have my own children, I know that by the time that yellow bus pulled up, my mom had already been hard at work for hours- and that doesn’t take into account the hours of worrying she did overnight. So if she sat for an hour and sipped a second, third, forth…cup of coffee and watched an hour of television, I am glad.
It’s perhaps one of those things they don’t show you enough in those old “after school specials” how much effort goes into “adulting” and because this is from my own perspective, I will include “momming” under that umbrella. I am not complaining (disclaimer…I do adore my children and am thankful for the ability to care for them) but let’s be honest, it is an almost endless list of things to do, hearts to mend, disputes to referee, meals to cook, noses to wipe, appointments to keep, stories to hear, stories to tell, lessons to teach, lessons to learn.
My family loves Disneyland. It is our favorite place to go together. For many years as my kids were little, my vacations were like business trips. I can (without even trying very hard), tell you every single place to breastfeed and change a diaper while you are there. I can tell you which bathroom stalls hold a stroller and I can tell you which rides are long enough to nurse and get a tiny baby to sleep on. I could pack a diaper bag that could probably sustain life on a deserted island for weeks. Wipes and hand sanitizer, snacks and water. Headache medicine, motion sickness tabs, sunscreen, chapstick… And I would put a baby in the front pack, a toddler in the stroller and strap that diaper bag on like I was going into battle.
So imagine the day my husband said I should actually ride something. Not just any something, a roller coaster. What was he thinking? Who would care for the babies? Who would carry the bag? Who could push that stroller? The oldest wanted to ride something adventurous so I would still be doing my job if I took him, right? The whole time we zigzagged through the line I watched my hubby sitting on a bench, diaper bag, stroller, sunscreen. We climbed into this ride and my son had to sit in his own row ahead of me. We were seat belted in and I could only reach his shoulder. As the coaster lurched forward and we were off, I was panic stricken. What if something happened to him? What if his seatbelt became loose? What if he didn’t actually keep his hands and feet inside the car at all times? What if a rogue seagull broke loose from it’s pack and flew into his face? What if we derailed? What if that cotton candy was a horrible choice before this? What if he was scared? I couldn’t do anything. I felt a little sick the first few turns. Then we emerged from a dark tunnel and I could hear his laughter. And I smiled a little bit. The faster we moved, I eased my very tight grip on my fear and I peered out over the park. I could see so much and I thought of how we were held onto this ride with just a steel tube track under us. And I felt so alive. I closed my eyes and let the wind pull my face into a smile. We careened through corners and up and down hills and I was totally free. Even if I wanted to, in that moment, the only person I had to be responsible for, was me.
As my kids have grown, so have the thrill rides. We used to promise them that something wouldn’t be too fast or too scary, but now- just like life- we just promise to ride it out with them.
So now that my husband gets motion sickness on most rides, I have taken on the roller coasters. I let him think it’s for him. And a small part is. But there is something to be said about the wind hitting you so hard you can’t catch your breath and the force of nature pushing and pulling you out of your seat that reminds us of that deep and primal desire to feel really free.
When T went on his first really big roller coaster (the real deal upside down loop variety) I was with him. This particular roller coaster starts out with a slow corner as you leave the station and then catapults you down a straightaway and up a hill. As we were all strapped in and leaving the station, his little hand grabbed onto the overhead restraints and said “Mom, I am too scared, I don’t want to do this.” It was too late. We were moments from blast off. I said “Buddy, I’m scared too, but it’s too late. Hold my hand and put your head back and scream if you need to!”
Who would have thought that a roller coaster could offer such advice for life?
They Homeschool 