Our household was on pins and needles for Tuesday, October 7th. All the TV commercials were adding to the anticipation, it seemed like every 5 minutes I was hearing about it. Tuesday, October 7th. You've been waiting for it. It's almost here! Disney's Sleeping Beauty. In a magical two days, you too can own the masterpiece. Yah, yah.
Well, Madi was waiting. She waited and was counting down her days and on the 7th we were at Target (because they are the cheapest!) to get her copy.
On Saturday, with Mike and Alex at a hockey game, Mimi and Papa came over to see the masterpiece we'd been waiting so long to obtain for our very own. During the movie, Mimi asked Madi if she knew what Maleficent's bird's name was. Madi said "It's Magical Toonaise. I saw it on the commercial. They showed the wicked witch and her bird and they called it Magical Toonaise." (AKA in a magical two days = Magical Toonaise)
So we've watched it a couple times since then (4 to be exact) and she calls the bird Toonaise. "Mama, Mama, the fairies did magic and Toonaise saw them and told the witch and that's how she found Princess Aurora. That Toonaise is a mean bird."
I almost told her but Mimi and Papa said don't. I'm kinda glad I didn't because she is super convinced that his name is Toonaise and it will make a great story to tell her later on.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Things I could do without
1. Go-Gurt. Whoever thought sucking flavored, thickened dairy product through a thin plastic tube was appealing is wrong. And my children love it. Every time we go somewhere that offers it with a kids meal I feel sick to my stomach. Especially at the end when the yogurt is gone and they sit there licking the plastic that I cannot verify where it's been.
2. Nasty room mother. Welcome to kindergarten. Day 1. Drop off your child, cry a little, go to the cafeteria to sign up for stuff. I got to the sign up sheet for Alex's room and noticed someone else had signed up in the first spot for room mother. I frowned, because I had assumed in my head I would be first. I signed up also, and looked at it as a chance to work with someone and get to know some new people. Well, she should have signed in as Hell Witch. I found out she lives on our block and when we saw her in passing, she was rude and condescending. I could go on, but I will give her another chance. Stay tuned.
3. Inner ear disease. Vertigo, nausea, blurred vision, headaches. Currently undergoing tests to see exactly what it is, and yes, the waay-aaaay-ting is the hardest part. But it makes driving and riding a bike very interesting.
2. Nasty room mother. Welcome to kindergarten. Day 1. Drop off your child, cry a little, go to the cafeteria to sign up for stuff. I got to the sign up sheet for Alex's room and noticed someone else had signed up in the first spot for room mother. I frowned, because I had assumed in my head I would be first. I signed up also, and looked at it as a chance to work with someone and get to know some new people. Well, she should have signed in as Hell Witch. I found out she lives on our block and when we saw her in passing, she was rude and condescending. I could go on, but I will give her another chance. Stay tuned.
3. Inner ear disease. Vertigo, nausea, blurred vision, headaches. Currently undergoing tests to see exactly what it is, and yes, the waay-aaaay-ting is the hardest part. But it makes driving and riding a bike very interesting.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Like, whatever...
Mike and I went to lunch today at one of our usual spots, a local sandwich shoppe with super delicious food. (I don't know why I spelled shop that way, it just looks cooler)
We took our seats outside so I could get some much needed sunshine. I didn't pay much attention to the two non-descript girls sitting at the table behind ours. They were pretty average late teens/early twenties-ish types with an obvious affection for cosmetics. Ok, maybe I did pay attention to them. They were dressed like I used to dress in 1985, when I wore electric blue leg warmers with a fluorescent orange skirt and pink top that was pulled into a knot with a big plastic buckle. Well, not JUST like that, but similar. I bet they probably even had Wham!'s Wake Me Up Before You Go Go on their iPods. At the very least I know they had Cameo's Word Up! or Cyndi Lauper's Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. But they don't have it on a mix tape like me, complete with partially cut-off radio commercials and station identification.
Anyhoo, we were initially trying to have our own conversation. We were talking about people we work with and their own individual annoying habits. I'm a hand rubber. I sit in my freezing cold office and rub my hands together like a cricket at Nascar speed to try to create enough friction to warm them up, or possibly catch them on fire. We have another who slurps her own spit while talking to people. Blah-blah-blah-blah SHHHLLLLLUUUUUCCKKKK... (swallow) blah-blah-blah-blah. We have pen clickers, eye-twitchers, butt scratchers, etc. While we marveled at everyone's various annoying yet endearing habits, we couldn't help but overhear the 80's girls' conversation. What I think was a conversation. This is what we heard.
Girl 1: And then, like, he was all, like, Oh My Gawd, I'm like totally wasted or whatever!
Girl 2: Oh my gawd!
G1: Yah, and then we, like, you know, like, and stuff, and then, whatever, it was like 6 in the morning, and like we had to go to OUR FAMILY REUNION (????) at, like 8:30.
G2: Ohmigawd, did you, like, I mean, you know, or whatever?
G1: Totally, but we were like, cool, you know.
G2: Oh, totally. Hee hee hee!
At this point I looked at Mike and mouthed "So she slept with a relative???" He shrugged.
G1: Ok, so then my other cousin was like, ohmigawd, you weren't at breakfast or whatever, and i was like, really? what time is it? and it was like 9:45 or whatever.
G2: Nuh-uh...
G1: Totally, and she like saw him in the bed, like with his shirt off!
(She DID sleep with a relative! I knew it...)
G2: Oh My Gawd. No way. What did she do, or whatever?
G1: She just like left or whatever and didn't say anything. I don't think she like, KNEW anything (yes she did!) But it was cool, we were like, you know, just cool that day. And now we're like Facebook friends and stuff!
My neck started smoking, or whatever, and like totally fell off and like rolled across the patio or whatever and like, totally spoiled their f-ed up little lunchtime story.
But seriously, I wish I had counted the number of times they used the phrases like/whatever/totally/oh my gawd/you know. Even when it WAS 1985 and it WAS cool to talk like that, I still didn't, except for once in a classroom skit where I played a Valley Girl!!!
I mean, like, totally! Ohmigawd! Gag me with a spoon.
We took our seats outside so I could get some much needed sunshine. I didn't pay much attention to the two non-descript girls sitting at the table behind ours. They were pretty average late teens/early twenties-ish types with an obvious affection for cosmetics. Ok, maybe I did pay attention to them. They were dressed like I used to dress in 1985, when I wore electric blue leg warmers with a fluorescent orange skirt and pink top that was pulled into a knot with a big plastic buckle. Well, not JUST like that, but similar. I bet they probably even had Wham!'s Wake Me Up Before You Go Go on their iPods. At the very least I know they had Cameo's Word Up! or Cyndi Lauper's Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. But they don't have it on a mix tape like me, complete with partially cut-off radio commercials and station identification.
Anyhoo, we were initially trying to have our own conversation. We were talking about people we work with and their own individual annoying habits. I'm a hand rubber. I sit in my freezing cold office and rub my hands together like a cricket at Nascar speed to try to create enough friction to warm them up, or possibly catch them on fire. We have another who slurps her own spit while talking to people. Blah-blah-blah-blah SHHHLLLLLUUUUUCCKKKK... (swallow) blah-blah-blah-blah. We have pen clickers, eye-twitchers, butt scratchers, etc. While we marveled at everyone's various annoying yet endearing habits, we couldn't help but overhear the 80's girls' conversation. What I think was a conversation. This is what we heard.
Girl 1: And then, like, he was all, like, Oh My Gawd, I'm like totally wasted or whatever!
Girl 2: Oh my gawd!
G1: Yah, and then we, like, you know, like, and stuff, and then, whatever, it was like 6 in the morning, and like we had to go to OUR FAMILY REUNION (????) at, like 8:30.
G2: Ohmigawd, did you, like, I mean, you know, or whatever?
G1: Totally, but we were like, cool, you know.
G2: Oh, totally. Hee hee hee!
At this point I looked at Mike and mouthed "So she slept with a relative???" He shrugged.
G1: Ok, so then my other cousin was like, ohmigawd, you weren't at breakfast or whatever, and i was like, really? what time is it? and it was like 9:45 or whatever.
G2: Nuh-uh...
G1: Totally, and she like saw him in the bed, like with his shirt off!
(She DID sleep with a relative! I knew it...)
G2: Oh My Gawd. No way. What did she do, or whatever?
G1: She just like left or whatever and didn't say anything. I don't think she like, KNEW anything (yes she did!) But it was cool, we were like, you know, just cool that day. And now we're like Facebook friends and stuff!
My neck started smoking, or whatever, and like totally fell off and like rolled across the patio or whatever and like, totally spoiled their f-ed up little lunchtime story.
But seriously, I wish I had counted the number of times they used the phrases like/whatever/totally/oh my gawd/you know. Even when it WAS 1985 and it WAS cool to talk like that, I still didn't, except for once in a classroom skit where I played a Valley Girl!!!
I mean, like, totally! Ohmigawd! Gag me with a spoon.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Just when I think I've heard it all
The other night I took the kids to the mall in a nearby city. By nearby, I mean 35 minutes away and the only mall "nearby" with a Yankee Candle Company store. I sold the kids on the idea of going to a place filled with breakable glass by telling them they could smell any candle in the store, and they had ones that smell like chocolate cupcakes. I was not lying, they do, and I bought one. Now, repeat after me:
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk about. Recently, I might have mentioned before, I have been on a "local" kick. I don't go to chain restaurants, I shop local produce, etc. Matter of fact, the thought of going to Chili's makes me sick. Luckily, I have been able to break the kids of their Chili's habit and forbid our patronage without them going all mutiny on me.
At this "nearby" mall, there is a Red Robin. There is no local restaurant at the mall, or even anything that resembles local. So I figured since I didn't have to buy anything they broke at the candle store, I would allow them this ONE TIME to go to Red Robin. We were immediately seated. Alex asked the host if the Red Robin was in town tonight, and the host looked at him as if he had just spoken in some tongue-popping African dialect. Alex sensed his blank look and clarified, in his most sarcastic tone (I have NO IDEA where he gets it) "You know, Red Robin. The bird on your sign." The host said, "Oh, no, he's not here tonight." (In case you have not been there, they occasionally have someone dress in a Red Robin costume to scare, er, greet the kids).
I looked around the restaurant. Every single table had children at it. Not just children, but raging, running, screaming, jumping, yelling, sassing, anything but sitting-politely-in-their-own-damn-seat children. I was annoyed. Madi ordered the mac and cheese. SHOCKING. I tried to talk her out of it, because she never likes it. It has some strange pukey-tasting cheese sauce on it she always complains about. But she insisted, so I said fine. I convinced Alex to share a burger with me.
Our food came and the mac and cheese was gross, as expected. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with it, it is just gross. Our burger came split in two, but on a single plate. I asked the server for another plate and I got the look again. Is it out of the ordinary to ask for a second plate when two people are sharing a meal? Now get outta here and go get my plate, Gothopotamus.
Two bites into the burger, Alex had a sad face. I was torn between asking what was wrong and not wanting to kick the whining bee's nest. I doused my half of the burger in mustard to make it edible. I decided to take the opportunity to illustrate the experience to the kids, maybe make them hop on my bandwagon of banning giant food chains. I said "Hey guys, this place is almost as bad as Chuck E. Cheese. Can we not come here anymore?" (Yes, I have ousted Chuck E. Cheese from our list of approved establishments)
It was my son's response to my request that made my day, and made me love him more, if that's possible.
Mama, can I tell you something?
Me: Sure, what is it, buddy?
But I have to say a word...
Me: Okaaay, what's up?
The food here is crap. I do not want to come back.
I don't think I can say anything more to top that.
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk about. Recently, I might have mentioned before, I have been on a "local" kick. I don't go to chain restaurants, I shop local produce, etc. Matter of fact, the thought of going to Chili's makes me sick. Luckily, I have been able to break the kids of their Chili's habit and forbid our patronage without them going all mutiny on me.
At this "nearby" mall, there is a Red Robin. There is no local restaurant at the mall, or even anything that resembles local. So I figured since I didn't have to buy anything they broke at the candle store, I would allow them this ONE TIME to go to Red Robin. We were immediately seated. Alex asked the host if the Red Robin was in town tonight, and the host looked at him as if he had just spoken in some tongue-popping African dialect. Alex sensed his blank look and clarified, in his most sarcastic tone (I have NO IDEA where he gets it) "You know, Red Robin. The bird on your sign." The host said, "Oh, no, he's not here tonight." (In case you have not been there, they occasionally have someone dress in a Red Robin costume to scare, er, greet the kids).
I looked around the restaurant. Every single table had children at it. Not just children, but raging, running, screaming, jumping, yelling, sassing, anything but sitting-politely-in-their-own-damn-seat children. I was annoyed. Madi ordered the mac and cheese. SHOCKING. I tried to talk her out of it, because she never likes it. It has some strange pukey-tasting cheese sauce on it she always complains about. But she insisted, so I said fine. I convinced Alex to share a burger with me.
Our food came and the mac and cheese was gross, as expected. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with it, it is just gross. Our burger came split in two, but on a single plate. I asked the server for another plate and I got the look again. Is it out of the ordinary to ask for a second plate when two people are sharing a meal? Now get outta here and go get my plate, Gothopotamus.
Two bites into the burger, Alex had a sad face. I was torn between asking what was wrong and not wanting to kick the whining bee's nest. I doused my half of the burger in mustard to make it edible. I decided to take the opportunity to illustrate the experience to the kids, maybe make them hop on my bandwagon of banning giant food chains. I said "Hey guys, this place is almost as bad as Chuck E. Cheese. Can we not come here anymore?" (Yes, I have ousted Chuck E. Cheese from our list of approved establishments)
It was my son's response to my request that made my day, and made me love him more, if that's possible.
Mama, can I tell you something?
Me: Sure, what is it, buddy?
But I have to say a word...
Me: Okaaay, what's up?
The food here is crap. I do not want to come back.
I don't think I can say anything more to top that.
Monday, August 04, 2008
Nashville, TN
I just got back from Nashville. It was my first trip to the Southern United States.
I feel a little bit like I did when I got back from Vancouver, BC. Before I went there I was ready for all Canadians to say "Eh" at the end of every sentence. After all, that's always what I do when I make a fake Canadian accent. I say "aboot" instead of about and "eh" at the end of every sentence. When it was not really like that I was a little disappointed. In Nashville, I expected everyone to have a thick southern drawl and say "y'all" in every sentence. Again, I was surprised by just how many people sounded exactly like me. Although, maybe they were surprised I didn't use the word "Dude" and I don't surf to the supermarket. Who knows.
Anyway, I learned several things that did seem to ring true for at least the Downtown part of Nashville.
Nashvillians seem fond of getting tattoos on their necks. Is there a prison somewhere close by that paroles all these folks? I think every 10th person I saw walking downtown had at least one tattoo on their neck. Not exaggerating.
You don't touch a cowboy's hat. An acquaintance was wearing one and another guy took it and was basically acting like a douche and they got in a fight. I was in the bathroom and I missed a real cowboy brawl.
I was not aware that cooking terms were regionally interpreted. I thought grilled meant grilled. No grease involved. No pan. Just a cooking utensil of parallel bars on which food is exposed to heat. Do they not have Merriam-Webster in TN? Everywhere we went, grilled = pan fried. Grilled Chicken Medallions with Red Beans and Rice = chicken breast strips coated in seasoned salt and pan fried until crusty and rice topped with canned kidney beans and burnt pan scrapings from some other pan fried piece of meat. UGH! Chicken Marsala was Linguine in a pool of some type of oil topped with a pan fried breast of hard chicken. Are Californians that spoiled with our food quality?!? It was really bad. And the worst part was people were lined up around the block to get into the places serving this crap.
You have not experienced humidity until you've been to the South. I've been to Central America. I've been to Hawaii. Tropical humidity is nothing compared to the humidity we experienced in Tennessee. In the air conditioned hotel, anything made of paper was damp. Metal fixtures had condensation. The rug felt moist under your feet. I've never experienced a hot thundershower until Nashville.
But it wasn't all bad. I saw the most beautiful lightning. Nashville is the cleanest big city I've ever been to. People were power washing the sidewalks daily, and they had people whose job was to walk the streets and sweep up litter. It was just like Disneyland. Only they weren't called Cast Members. And there were no rides. Well I guess that's not true, there was the mechanical bull.
I feel a little bit like I did when I got back from Vancouver, BC. Before I went there I was ready for all Canadians to say "Eh" at the end of every sentence. After all, that's always what I do when I make a fake Canadian accent. I say "aboot" instead of about and "eh" at the end of every sentence. When it was not really like that I was a little disappointed. In Nashville, I expected everyone to have a thick southern drawl and say "y'all" in every sentence. Again, I was surprised by just how many people sounded exactly like me. Although, maybe they were surprised I didn't use the word "Dude" and I don't surf to the supermarket. Who knows.
Anyway, I learned several things that did seem to ring true for at least the Downtown part of Nashville.
Mechanical bulls can be dangerous. I was heavily pressured by all the people in my group to get on the bull. "How can you go back to California knowing you came to Tennessee and DIDN'T ride a mechanical bull?!?" Turns out it doesn't impress many people here. Everyone I have told assumed I was drunk and I wasn't. Although it does make me seem really bad-ass when people ask what happened to my wrist (which is in a splint because I sprained it riding the mechanical bull).
You don't touch a cowboy's hat. An acquaintance was wearing one and another guy took it and was basically acting like a douche and they got in a fight. I was in the bathroom and I missed a real cowboy brawl.
I was not aware that cooking terms were regionally interpreted. I thought grilled meant grilled. No grease involved. No pan. Just a cooking utensil of parallel bars on which food is exposed to heat. Do they not have Merriam-Webster in TN? Everywhere we went, grilled = pan fried. Grilled Chicken Medallions with Red Beans and Rice = chicken breast strips coated in seasoned salt and pan fried until crusty and rice topped with canned kidney beans and burnt pan scrapings from some other pan fried piece of meat. UGH! Chicken Marsala was Linguine in a pool of some type of oil topped with a pan fried breast of hard chicken. Are Californians that spoiled with our food quality?!? It was really bad. And the worst part was people were lined up around the block to get into the places serving this crap.
You have not experienced humidity until you've been to the South. I've been to Central America. I've been to Hawaii. Tropical humidity is nothing compared to the humidity we experienced in Tennessee. In the air conditioned hotel, anything made of paper was damp. Metal fixtures had condensation. The rug felt moist under your feet. I've never experienced a hot thundershower until Nashville.
But it wasn't all bad. I saw the most beautiful lightning. Nashville is the cleanest big city I've ever been to. People were power washing the sidewalks daily, and they had people whose job was to walk the streets and sweep up litter. It was just like Disneyland. Only they weren't called Cast Members. And there were no rides. Well I guess that's not true, there was the mechanical bull.
Monday, July 28, 2008
A letter to my cat
Dear FiFi,
As your leader, I would like to address a few complaints I have about your living arrangement.
1. I DO enjoy you sitting in my lap. I DO NOT enjoy you curling up to get comfortable on my chest and sticking your brown ass hole in my face. It makes me feel quite ill.
2. I appreciate your desire to get in the house at night. I will happily let you in when I call you at any of the regular ports. If you miss out, tough luck. Please don’t scratch my bedroom window with your claws to gain entry. It makes me think of scary clowns with long, glass-cutting nails.
3. I will not rescue you off the roof using a ladder that teeters on the porch. Well, I won’t ever do it again. You got up there, you get down.
4. On behalf of the dog: You are quite a small animal, and you do not need my entire bed to sleep on. I will gladly share with you, but you may not kick me off my own bed. You have no idea the fine line you walk. I could eat you in one bite, you furry little snack.
5. We bought you a scratching post. Use it. The carpet is not a scratching post.
6. I know catnip makes you really peppy, but please don’t show your zest for kitty life by sinking your fangs into my hand.
7. I brush you so you can come indoors. I know you don’t like it, but it is necessary. Ditto for baths.
8. I do enjoy your snuggles, but sprawling out on my back while I’m sleeping is a little much. Especially when you knead my skin with your claws because you are so comfortable.
9. Lastly, we humans have a saying. "Curiosity Killed the Cat." If you sneak up on the male leader and I while we’re gettin’ our naughty on and stick your whiskers near my ass again, you will find out what curiosity does to you.
That is all. Thank you in advance for your attention to these matters.
Your leader.
As your leader, I would like to address a few complaints I have about your living arrangement.
1. I DO enjoy you sitting in my lap. I DO NOT enjoy you curling up to get comfortable on my chest and sticking your brown ass hole in my face. It makes me feel quite ill.
2. I appreciate your desire to get in the house at night. I will happily let you in when I call you at any of the regular ports. If you miss out, tough luck. Please don’t scratch my bedroom window with your claws to gain entry. It makes me think of scary clowns with long, glass-cutting nails.
3. I will not rescue you off the roof using a ladder that teeters on the porch. Well, I won’t ever do it again. You got up there, you get down.
4. On behalf of the dog: You are quite a small animal, and you do not need my entire bed to sleep on. I will gladly share with you, but you may not kick me off my own bed. You have no idea the fine line you walk. I could eat you in one bite, you furry little snack.
5. We bought you a scratching post. Use it. The carpet is not a scratching post.
6. I know catnip makes you really peppy, but please don’t show your zest for kitty life by sinking your fangs into my hand.
7. I brush you so you can come indoors. I know you don’t like it, but it is necessary. Ditto for baths.
8. I do enjoy your snuggles, but sprawling out on my back while I’m sleeping is a little much. Especially when you knead my skin with your claws because you are so comfortable.
9. Lastly, we humans have a saying. "Curiosity Killed the Cat." If you sneak up on the male leader and I while we’re gettin’ our naughty on and stick your whiskers near my ass again, you will find out what curiosity does to you.
That is all. Thank you in advance for your attention to these matters.
Your leader.
Monday, July 21, 2008
The Hum Freak Out
Last month we went to Disneyland again. It has become a frequent affair this past year, we’ve been three times in 7 months. The thing is, each time we go back, one child or the other is tall enough to ride something they couldn’t ride before. So for me, one who doesn’t like to sit out on rides, it’s added incentive to get our tails back there. And I love Disneyland. I love it more than my kids love it. I know that makes me a little crazy to some people, but seriously, I can’t get enough of it.
I think I’ll download their “rider guide” and add the rides to the kids’ measuring stick. That way it will give them something to look forward to also.
In our family, the height restrictions are an obstacle. We’re of the mentality that if there were no height restrictions, our children would go on each and every ride until they puked out of sheer delight. Except the teacups, because then I’d be puking and it would not be for delight. See, we’re thrill seekers. We told Alex we were planning on going skydiving and the first thing he said was “Can I come?!?” It must be in their blood or something. Blame it on genetics.
Two trips ago, I convinced the kids to go on Tower of Terror. Madi finally met the height requirement, and in our house, that means you attempt the ride. Alex got all the way on the ride, got buckled in, then began shrieking like a damn banshee to let him off. His head even spun completely around. Twice. I couldn’t exactly push the issue, or I think everyone on the ride would have come after me with pitchforks and torches. And come to find out, it wasn’t the drop that scared him, it was the simulated lightning in the little waiting area with the TV. I couldn’t believe that was what was holding up the fun. So I basically gave Alex a lesson in peer pressure for 4 months until we went back and he swore he would go on it again. I felt a little bad, but after the episode last time, he HAD to redeem himself. I don’t care if he is only 5, that was embarrassing. Madi went on it every time the rest of us did, and she let Alex know about it.
June’s trip to Disneyland for a certain princess’ birthday is what brings me to write this post. The Hum Freak Out.
Space Mountain is an Alex favorite, but Madi was just under the height requirement in February so she didn’t get to go. In June, she was tall enough and was first in line to get on. Our friend T rode with her, since I get super dizzy and sick on Space Mountain. When they got off the ride, T told me about the Hum Freak Out. Madi had asked him to hold her tight while they rode, and that she’d do the Hum Freak Out. So he was like, “The what?” And Madi repeated “The Hum Freak Out. It’s what I do so I can enjoy the ride like I like it.” How wise of her to figure out how to suppress her fear so she could enjoy herself. During the ride, T put his head down and all he could hear was “Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!” The Hum Freak Out.
I’m not sure if I was most impressed by her coping mechanism or by the fact that she gave it a name. I mean she had just turned 4, and it seemed well beyond her years. I know some adults who could benefit from the Hum Freak Out. Maybe she should teach a class or something. Finding Your Own Hum Freak Out – Stress Management Techniques for Everyone. She’ll be a millionaire… Maybe even infomercials…
I think I’ll download their “rider guide” and add the rides to the kids’ measuring stick. That way it will give them something to look forward to also.
In our family, the height restrictions are an obstacle. We’re of the mentality that if there were no height restrictions, our children would go on each and every ride until they puked out of sheer delight. Except the teacups, because then I’d be puking and it would not be for delight. See, we’re thrill seekers. We told Alex we were planning on going skydiving and the first thing he said was “Can I come?!?” It must be in their blood or something. Blame it on genetics.
Two trips ago, I convinced the kids to go on Tower of Terror. Madi finally met the height requirement, and in our house, that means you attempt the ride. Alex got all the way on the ride, got buckled in, then began shrieking like a damn banshee to let him off. His head even spun completely around. Twice. I couldn’t exactly push the issue, or I think everyone on the ride would have come after me with pitchforks and torches. And come to find out, it wasn’t the drop that scared him, it was the simulated lightning in the little waiting area with the TV. I couldn’t believe that was what was holding up the fun. So I basically gave Alex a lesson in peer pressure for 4 months until we went back and he swore he would go on it again. I felt a little bad, but after the episode last time, he HAD to redeem himself. I don’t care if he is only 5, that was embarrassing. Madi went on it every time the rest of us did, and she let Alex know about it.
June’s trip to Disneyland for a certain princess’ birthday is what brings me to write this post. The Hum Freak Out.
Space Mountain is an Alex favorite, but Madi was just under the height requirement in February so she didn’t get to go. In June, she was tall enough and was first in line to get on. Our friend T rode with her, since I get super dizzy and sick on Space Mountain. When they got off the ride, T told me about the Hum Freak Out. Madi had asked him to hold her tight while they rode, and that she’d do the Hum Freak Out. So he was like, “The what?” And Madi repeated “The Hum Freak Out. It’s what I do so I can enjoy the ride like I like it.” How wise of her to figure out how to suppress her fear so she could enjoy herself. During the ride, T put his head down and all he could hear was “Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!” The Hum Freak Out.
I’m not sure if I was most impressed by her coping mechanism or by the fact that she gave it a name. I mean she had just turned 4, and it seemed well beyond her years. I know some adults who could benefit from the Hum Freak Out. Maybe she should teach a class or something. Finding Your Own Hum Freak Out – Stress Management Techniques for Everyone. She’ll be a millionaire… Maybe even infomercials…
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