I’ll admit it…This vacation, I thought we were going to be THAT family.
You know, THAT family. The one you follow around Disneyland just to hear what outrageous thing they’ll say next (oh, and trust me, whatever does get said is so horrible, it’s funny).
After two years, we decided to return to Disneyland. Last time we were here, my then four year old threw ginormous fits and acquired a terror of fire alarms that we still haven’t broken him of, not entirely.
So it was with great reluctance that we decided to return. Ok, actually if it had been up to me, we wouldn’t have. But M was set on the idea, and really wanted to come back, so here we are.
And the first day, Chewey did his part.
He was crabby and cranky and refused to even ride the bus at Universal Studios. He threw a massive fit in the haunted mansion at Disneyland, precipitating a covert escape mid ride through the fire exits (in his defense, now that I’ve seen it, I get why he was scared. It’s loud and dark and a little spooky. I thought it was great. But I get that it might scare a little kid who doesn’t do loud on his best days, and never does the dark).
After the covert escape, M and I were snipping at each other. Nothing major, just general crabbiness. Also, the escape served as a major buzz kill, and left both of us not really wanting to do much of anything.
Then Monk wanted to go on the Matterhorn.
The Matterhorn is my favorite ride in the park, and doing this with her was a great mood elevator. She loved it, and I got to separate myself for about half an hour, which, for me, was like hitting a giant RESET button. Once we got done, I sent M off with her, and sure enough, he came back happy, too.
But we needed one success. One ride that we could do without a freak out. We had tried three, with little success. Then Chewey requested Star Tours.
Now, I get motion sick fairly easily. Star Tours was not something I had planned. I thought I’d get sick, he’d get scared, and we’d be all irritated and on edge all over again. But he begged, we needed a success, so we went.
He loved it. He would have gone on that ride half a dozen times. Me? I saw the introduction, anyway. Then I closed my eyes and just tried to breathe through it. It was bad enough that my eight year old took one look at me as we were leaving and said, “Daddy, Mommy looks like she needs a Zofran.”
(Yes, my children are well acquainted with my stomach meds. A) They live with me. My nausea is no longer constant since I gave up wheat, but it was such a regular occurrence for so long, I’d be surprised if they didn’t know the names of my meds; B) They’re smart and they notice things)
But… We had our success!
He really did pull it out. He did well enough that when we got stuck on a ride, he didn’t even complain. He didn’t complain (that much) when we had to leave Disney early because Monk felt sick. He made it!
So, I’m happy to report that I was wrong. Disneyland was not the disaster I thought it would be. And hooray for that!