We went to California Adventures and Disneyland while we were in California. They have this two-for-one deal for southern California residents (which my sister is), so we spent one day at each.
But unfortunately, everytime I leave the state, my kids get sick. Susannah and I decided it's because our kids aren't "immune" to the specific germs at a specific place. So exactly three days after we arrived in California, both Bianca and Portia ended up with a cough. What's worse is that Portia was running a fever as well. But we forged on and went to the "happiest place[s] on earth" anyway.
However, it's not quite as happy when the kids are sick. It was a great week to go. Hardly any lines. We zipped through everything. On Monday, we started out at A Bug's Life at California Adventures. Portia really loved Heimlich's Chew Chew Train (I liked it too). And I loved that she could ride a lot of those rides. Around lunch time, we decided to split up. Bianca wanted to do Ariel's Grotto again (which is the restaurant where five princesses come to your table while you're eating and you can talk to them and have pictures taken). Last time, Susannah was with me and the princesses all tried to kiss Ethan on the cheek and he hated it. Never wanted to go back. The food is mediocre and costs an adult $27.99 and a child $15.99. But it was important to Bianca, so we went.
Unfortunately, Portia's fever started escalating as we sat at the table. And she sat there crying (the only time the crying stopped was when she was yawning). And everytime a princess came too close to us, Portia screamed uncontrollably. She wouldn't even eat the mashed potatoes she normally loves. After thirty minutes, I sat there in a daze and wondered exactly why I came here. My food was cold because I was agitated with all the crying. The music in the background was forcing Zippity Do Da into our ears, fighting against Portia's crying. (Portia: I'm not Happy. Music: You are Happy. Back and forth, back and forth, and so on.)
Finally, I got Portia to stop crying, she was lying against me and nearly falling asleep, when the server came up and asked me if we were ready for our dessert. I asked, Can I just hang out for a bit? I finally got my baby to stop crying. She responded, you have an 80-minute limit to this table. I sent her away. We weren't even close to our 80 minutes. I was ready to scream.
As everyone else was filing out, they stopped by, saying obvious things like, your baby hasn't stopped crying this entire time. I nodded my head, yes, and let them go on with their happiest day at the happiest place on earth. I paid for our mediocre food and was never so happy to be out of that "happy" place. Bianca said she never wanted to go back to the restaurant again either.
Portia was sick on and off until yesterday when I finally decided enough was enough. I packed my car and took off after a 20-minute stint at the beach. I drove straight through. The poor baby was feverish and uncomfortable and unhappy. I pulled in to my garage at 12:30 and took Portia's temperature. She was still teetering around 102 degrees. I've accepted that Disneyland will use whatever motto they need to make people believe they're happiest there, but I've never been so happy to sink into my husband's arms in my own bed at home, my happiest place on earth.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Monday, March 3, 2008
Just a little drive . . .
with a six-year-old and a ten-month-old that lasted for ten hours straight. Okay, I did finally make it to California at midnight on Friday night, but it wasn't easy.
The first three and a half hours were nice, until we reached St. George where we stopped at Red Lobster for dinner. Only then did I realize that using the restroom was going to be a problem. How was I going to hold the baby (who screams if I step two feet away from her) and use the bathroom? Yes, I finally decided the only way was to have Bianca hold her. She sat on the floor (yuck!) and held her, and Portia still cried the entire time. I had to do it again at a gas station in Las Vegas (after getting stuck in horrible traffic that set me back an hour), but this time I would not let Bianca sit on the floor and the baby nearly slid out of her arms.
It was a scary gas station. When I walked in, a homeless man was yelling at the cashier about something being illegal (I never figured out what that was as Bianca was doing the pee-dance and really had to get in there). But I locked the doors of my car while we went in, got in the car, locked up immediately and then drove off. As we were waiting at the stop light to get onto the freeway, I realized one of the lights in the car was on. I had Bianca open and shut her door three times, but that clearly wasn't it. I had to get on the freeway, then exit again and pull off onto the side of the road. As I was going around the back of the car, I realized the back light was shining on. So, I opened the back quickly, shut it hard, then saw that the light went out. I got back onto the freeway again and started thinking--how did my back door get dislodged? I hadn't opened it when I stopped in St. George or at the gas station. Then I started to panic that someone had tried to break in. It wasn't until I called Eric and he sufficiently freaked me out by asking if I checked closely enough to make sure someone hadn't hidden in the back of the car. The next exit was Stateline where I pulled off yet AGAIN and parked in the lightest part of a casino parking lot, opened the trunk and found to my relief that it was packed with nothing more than the bags I put in there. I double checked both the girls who were sleeping soundly in the back seat to make sure they were okay. By now I was completely paranoid.
As I hung up the phone and felt completely alone, I realized how much I missed my dad. The last time I had driven to California was with him a year and a half ago. Not only that, but taking road trips with my dad is one of my favorite memories of him. He always used to fly out and drive with me when I'd drive home for summers in college. When we went to California two summers ago, he had flown out to Utah because I was planning on taking a road trip on my own. He was always so good about offering to come along on my road trips.
As I passed into California from Nevada, I looked into the empty passenger seat, my hands still trembling from fright, and asked if he was here with me. That gave me a little comfort. For surely he was.
I made it okay finally and am I glad to be here! But I'm not looking forward to the drive back.
The first three and a half hours were nice, until we reached St. George where we stopped at Red Lobster for dinner. Only then did I realize that using the restroom was going to be a problem. How was I going to hold the baby (who screams if I step two feet away from her) and use the bathroom? Yes, I finally decided the only way was to have Bianca hold her. She sat on the floor (yuck!) and held her, and Portia still cried the entire time. I had to do it again at a gas station in Las Vegas (after getting stuck in horrible traffic that set me back an hour), but this time I would not let Bianca sit on the floor and the baby nearly slid out of her arms.
It was a scary gas station. When I walked in, a homeless man was yelling at the cashier about something being illegal (I never figured out what that was as Bianca was doing the pee-dance and really had to get in there). But I locked the doors of my car while we went in, got in the car, locked up immediately and then drove off. As we were waiting at the stop light to get onto the freeway, I realized one of the lights in the car was on. I had Bianca open and shut her door three times, but that clearly wasn't it. I had to get on the freeway, then exit again and pull off onto the side of the road. As I was going around the back of the car, I realized the back light was shining on. So, I opened the back quickly, shut it hard, then saw that the light went out. I got back onto the freeway again and started thinking--how did my back door get dislodged? I hadn't opened it when I stopped in St. George or at the gas station. Then I started to panic that someone had tried to break in. It wasn't until I called Eric and he sufficiently freaked me out by asking if I checked closely enough to make sure someone hadn't hidden in the back of the car. The next exit was Stateline where I pulled off yet AGAIN and parked in the lightest part of a casino parking lot, opened the trunk and found to my relief that it was packed with nothing more than the bags I put in there. I double checked both the girls who were sleeping soundly in the back seat to make sure they were okay. By now I was completely paranoid.
As I hung up the phone and felt completely alone, I realized how much I missed my dad. The last time I had driven to California was with him a year and a half ago. Not only that, but taking road trips with my dad is one of my favorite memories of him. He always used to fly out and drive with me when I'd drive home for summers in college. When we went to California two summers ago, he had flown out to Utah because I was planning on taking a road trip on my own. He was always so good about offering to come along on my road trips.
As I passed into California from Nevada, I looked into the empty passenger seat, my hands still trembling from fright, and asked if he was here with me. That gave me a little comfort. For surely he was.
I made it okay finally and am I glad to be here! But I'm not looking forward to the drive back.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
