Skip to content

Disneyland joy

February 2, 2009

Went to Disneyland on Saturday with the kiddles instead of going on our date night. Which was cool. At first. Poor JP had taken Lukas on Thursday for Daddy-Lukey time; then he took Anya on Friday for Daddy-Anya time. By the time we got to Saturday and they begged to go, well, what can I say, the man has the patience of a saint. So we went.
Now let me preface this entry by saying that I am not a crowd person–never have been, never will be. Especially when it’s hot. Or dark. Or stinky. Disneyland, as most of you all know, can, at various times, qualify for all of the above. Happy happy joy joy. But I kept telling myself, Rachel, just go to your happy place–this is for the kids. Just look at their shiny happy faces. Except…

A day at Disneyland would not be complete for our family unless Anya cries at least once. She always cries at Disneyland! The Happiest Place on Earth!! My poor baby. She just gets so overwhelmed–which restaurant to eat at, which ride to wait in line at, she has a stomachache, her feet hurt, she wants to go home, no! she wants to stay, she’s too cold, she’s too hot–OMG. And it’s usually my fault, because I AM THE MOTHER. But of course. (Mom, I am apologizing to you now for all the bratty shit I did when I was a kid and you thought, just wait til you have your own kid you little brat! You’ll see. Because I am now wishing that upon my daughter and I know it’s just starting. We haven’t even hit teenager joy yet.) I know it’s fatigue and she’s still my little love, of course. It’s just that the crying only happens when I am present. So, yea, I guess I’m just that much of a bitch.

And Lukas has to have a few temper tantrums because he doesn’t understand that sugar is not a food group; or he doesn’t want to have his pull-up changed because he has “mushy tushy,” his term for when his diaper is so wet it’s like a wedgie; or he’s tired and wants to be carried which I just can’t do anymore (he’s 32 lbs.!) and he has to either walk or go in the rented stroller and he refuses and I say no and he cries “I just want my momma!” and we threaten fine go on daddy’s shoulders or in the stroller or we leave, and so he stands stock-still and points his finger and screams “NO I JUST WANT MY MOMMA” and so we go to leave and he stops and says sweetly with a smile “I love you momma–can we go on Autopia? I want to drive like a crazy man!” Life with a 3 yr old I guess. Overstimulation city. Mostly we just laugh and keep a sense of humor about it all. He is just so cute. At least he loves me, bitch that I apparently am.

Poor Anya though…as we were making our way back through Downtown Disney around 7:30pm, it was dark, crowded, smoky–I’m trying to keep track of Lukey, people are drinking and partying, there’s loud music playing–just not my scene. She says “Mommy, just be happy, okay? Aren’t you having a good time?” Haaaa…well, no, dear, I say, it’s like this. My feet hurt, my back is killing me, we just spent $50 on crap food you wouldn’t even eat and then cried about because you’re still hungry, Lukey just had a temper tantrum at the LEGO store, and I’m trying to navigate my way through a bunch of drunk louts in the dark. Yea, I’m having a blast! Well, that was IT for her. The tears just spilled. I get the worst mother award for sure. Apparently sarcasm does not play well with the teary 9–year old crowd. Who knew?
It all worked out in the end though. Once we got safely to our car, both kids crashed within 30 seconds. We got home fine, both slept well all night–oh yea, and the kids slept well too.
And I’m working on my sarcasm. I think I have it down pretty well, don’t you?

From → Disneyland, sarcasm

One Comment
  1. No Rach I think that is funny as shit!!! I can’t stop laughing…but then mine are grown!!! Good times, huh?!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: