I can be talked into anything

On our second day, we went to California Adventure.

I really like that park, and while my heart beats for the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland (it's just not a trip to Disneyland for me until I ride that), I have favorites here too.

We rode the California Screamin' roller coaster, just me and the boys, as soon as we could get over to it.  I even got to sit one seat from the front, as Nolan and Ben took the seats right up front.  (Can I get a gold star for bravery here?  My babies, in the front seat?  Me right behind them?  OY.)  I left my eyes open, and was obnoxious enough to holler out, as I knew it was approaching, "Smile for the camera, boys!"

I ask you, why, why do they take pictures of people on the roller coaster?  I mean, this picture, was bad, but it was nothing compared to the one that was taken the next day at Space Mountain.   Who really wants to see their face, as it pulls 5 G's?   And is anything so flattering as the photo that looks as though a shoehorn was needed to scoot your mighty ass into the seat?

Next time, I'm skipping even a glance at them.  I'll save my pictorial trauma for when my Mom pulls out those pictures from high school.

The biggest problem, it turned out, was the little crying fit Audrey would have when she couldn't get on something due to her height.  She would just crumple, like it was a personal affront, and not a safety issue.  She just didn't get it, and Mr W would sigh, and I would sigh, then one of us would take her on something close by that she could get on.

Desperate for something for all of us to do, I suggested this giant Ferris Wheel even though I know I don't do well on those things.  I figured I could handle it, as I chose a stationery car, but man, I had to concentrate on my breathing just to make it through.  It didn't help that Ben kept standing up so he could see better, the wind moved the car ever so slightly, and the swinging car right above us made my stomach flip with each swing.  Yes.  I ride roller coasters, but I can't handle the sitting up high of a Ferris Wheel.  What a baby.

My stomach had barely recovered when Ben momentarily got separated from us.  I have no idea how he managed it, he was next to me, standing next to me, as I shouted to Mr W, Audrey, and Ryan (they were in line for a ride).  I turn to go, and Nolan follows, but no Ben. 

Icy panic grips my heart, because I have no idea which direction he went.  I take a deep breath, and search the crowd ahead, nearly turn back for Mr W, when Ben turns around, and we see each other.

I wanted to kill him.

I went and grabbed him close instead.  He was scared, I could see it on his face, and I didn't want to make it worse.

But I wanted to kill him.

I swear, leashes looked good to me at that point.  I'd resemble a dog walker with all of them, but at least I'd know where they were.

The funny thing is, I'd been grilling Ryan about "Where are we staying?  What's my name, what's your Dad's name?" and Ben is the one that took off.  

And it didn't deter him from getting away from me (in a line) at Disneyland the next night.

It's a good thing I colored my hair before the trip.  The highlights should hide the gray.

That evening, we--no, wait--Mr W succumbed to the "let's go swimming" request.  I was not pleased, not at all, because I knew it was gonna be cold.  "The pool's heated,"  he reassured me.

That one, it ranks right up there with "I'll only put it in for a just a second."

Just as gullible then as I am now, I said "Really?  Okay, just for a little while."  We suited everyone up, and down we went to the pool.  The air was bracing, but bearable as we made our way up the stairs.

And then I stepped in a puddle of water, and almost called the whole thing off.  But my jaw clamped shut in response to the freezing puddle, and I was pushed on by the little bodies behind me. 

I rushed to the poolside; eagerly, I got in, hoping that the water would be really warm.  It was.  Warm, but not that warm.  I think it was warm enough for steam to appear to be rising above it, and that's it.  Shivering, and silently wishing Mr W was freezing to the point of uncomfortable shrinkage, I dogpaddled around with Ryan, while Nolan and Ben started exploring the length of the pool.  

It wasn't sooo bad, I guess.  At least now I know that those men, those Polar Bear club members, are just totally insane.

"Mom, is that the hot tub over there?"  Nolan asked, "because I want to go get in it."

I wasn't wearing my glasses, it was dark, all I saw a was body of water, and some heads; I was about to say "sure" when Mr W nodded no.  "There's grown ups in there," he told Nolan. 

Nolan swam around some more, but you know, was persistent in his request, asking again.  And again.  Finally, I had to just lay it on the line for him, and tell him "Grown up people in the hot tub, doing grown up things." "Ohhh."  That was that.  (Nothing embarrasses a twelve year old like the mere hint of anything that might relate to sex.)  He didn't ask again.

At last, I was able to convince Mr W that my lips were not supposed to be turning quite this shade of blue, and we needed to head back as everyone had the chattering jaw look made so famous on Titanic.

It was every man for himself as we scrambled for towels on the table where we'd stacked some earlier.  Hands were slapped.  I'm sorry, but even in an airplane they tell you to put the oxygen mask on yourself before you help anyone else, so why make an exception now?  I'm not gonna be the "Here, let me wrap you in this warm towel" type when I'm doubled over from the cold and grateful no one but my family is there to witness it.

We make it back to our room, moving like a group, in a semi-waddle.  A family of penguins would have been proud.  Everyone has a bath, I grab my gear and am blissfully enjoying the shower with the magic massage showerhead when I hear Mr W talking to me.  "Are you okay in there?" 

You've got to be kidding me.  I'm on vacation.  I can't even shower on vacation without an interruption.  Sigh.

"I'll be right out."  Dammit.

"No, no, it's fine, I just was checking on you."

He pokes at the curtain.  He pokes at the curtain!

I locked that door.  Didn't I lock that door?? 

Apparently not. 

Can't keep track of kids, can't lock a door...

God, I'm such a dork.