Well it being fall break for me and the kids, I decided there was no reason not to take on some novelty. (Alert readers MAY detect some foreshadowing, here...) I loves me some novelty.
So Rose and I called up Einstein's Relative and we all headed down to a wildlife museum in a sort of Stepfordian suburb of Denver. We invited Andy and his buddy, but the buddy couldn't join us, so Andy elected to stay with him. We agreed to meet up later to go on a free Halloween-themed tour of a local candy factory. Because, why stop with just ONE novel event? I LOVES me some novelty!
It was an arduous drive, complicated by extreme hunger pangs and big traffic, plus the fact that I had failed to figure out in advance the location of the wildlife museum. I did cleverly print out a two-for-one admission coupon from the museum website; dang good thing, too, because we arrived there at around 3:45. Not a LOT of time to recoup any entrance fee investment.
On the way, we decided that we'd better stop and eat. Einstein knew of a restaurant that would assuredly have mac and cheese, so we popped right in. I had a patty melt- I LOVES me a patty melt- with REALLY GOOD fries and some REAL pickle slices. Also a big Dr. Pepper with cherries in it. Einstein had a french dip, same fries, same pickles, and a Coke. We both indulged in at least 1/3 cup of ketchup. Also, in spite of the obvious high sodium content already in our orders, we were very liberal with the salt shaker.
Rose ordered her mac and cheese, which came with some of the delicious fries, and a BIG! chocolate milk. She became strangely listless and barely ate anything. (Alert readers may be experiencing foreboding, foreshadowing, and the satisfaction of detecting someone else's maternal obliviousness.) She got a little crabby about my attempt to use some of her 1/3 cup of ketchup rather than replenish my own. She ate 1/2 bite of mac and cheese. Naurally, she drank the chocolate milk, though. She insisted on packing up her leftovers, which required two boxes, and we headed out.
At the museum, we checked out the grossology exhibit. Although she had a lot of fun, I think Rose completely failed to get the point of the exhibit- at least, she never recoiled, blanched or said "eeewwww!" Einstein and I did, though. Then we headed downstairs, checked out the obligatory gift shop and wandered into the toddler's room. This room had a big tree with all kinds of birds and arborial mammals in it, with a speaker that periodically provided forest noises. It had a rock "cave" in the middle, a toddler's corral with "grass" and soft stuffies, some miniature couches and chairs, rustic but miniature log benches and stools, and, best of all, a child-size puppet stage and at least 50 varieties of wildlife puppets.
Well the three of us had a laugh-riot as we put on puppet-shows for each other. Einstein extemporized a really lame but surprisingly well-rhymed rap, channeled by Leo the lion. I made my two puppets do the can-can, 'cause I just couldn't compete with Shakespeare. Rose's puppets played a lot of peek-a-boo with the camera, beat each other up, and then threw themselves off the cliff. She was starting to shriek (alert readers?), but her laughter is so danged infectious that we just kept it up, knowing that she was well-pottied. (maternal obliviousness)
We finally staggered out of there and took one more dip into the gift shop (DANGER! DANGER WILL ROBINSON!!!!!). Rose selected a tube of sea creatures, I paid, Einstein chose a praying mantis finger puppet, she paid, and Rose found a Magic School bus dvd that she wanted and I said no, explaining all of the several reasons why that wasn't going to be a second purchase, and Rose shut down, clutching the movie and starting up the tug of war, and I tried to wait her out, and the gift shop girl had already put away and shut down everything she could, and was waiting to pull down the security gate, and Einstein tried tickling and distracting and finally whisked the dvd out of Rose's hands, whereupon she collapsed and started screaming, and Einstein and I dragged her across the floor and out the exit door.
Einstein and I then settled in for a chat at one of the convenient outdoor tables, agreeing that we were dying of thirst (sodium, remember) and Rose sobbed and clawed at the museum windows and doors. This went on for, oh, maybe 20 minutes, in which time Einstein took pity on me and described the horrors of helping raise a different one of her honorary nieces, assuring me that this fecal seizure (just substitute a couple of single-syllable synonyms and you'll get it) was NOTHING.
Well Rose managed to pull herself together and took another few minutes to refine a face-saving act to pretend nothing had just happened. Einstein prepared to leave the two of us alone for a debriefing, which I skipped completely, because...? I was exhausted? I've learned that it accomplishes nothing? It's all situational, metabolic, sensory-input-dependent?
Then we made it to the car, agreeing en route that we were dying of thirst, and CONTINUED TO MAKE PLANS FOR THE CANDY TOUR!!!! Because I'm an idiot, and Einstein was fascinated and ready to keep watching this car-wreck.
Anyhoo, the LARGE drinks were procured, candy tour canceled, Rose and Einstein were deposited at their respective decompression chambers, and Andy and his buddy were taken to a movie instead.
3 comments:
I would like to say for the record that Laurie was more more horrified than I at Rose's meltdown in the store. I have seen far worse meltdowns.
2nd, Laurie did not do justice to the suffering we experienced due to beverage deprivation. While Rose gathered herself, we were forced to stare into a closed cafe with a Coke machine in sight. I think Laurie and I deserve credit for not clawing at those windows crying. That will not stop us from future trips to the salt lick, however.
Last, Laure was dead on at describing us as idiots for even thinking of going on another tour. In our defense, those ideas popped into our heads BEFORE we got our drinks. Once we sipped our beverages and let our heavy contented sighs, we dropped the tour idea.
Liz
xoxo
I understand all to well the inertia involved with the "best laid plans" and Rose: You want to do so much with her; you want to create great, memorable experiences; you want to bond with your child; and then she falls apart because the whole thing was too much. Still, you've made plans, and damn it, you're going to go through with them for all the reasons listed above. It doesn't matter that the memorable experience becomes something you wish to forget and that rather than a bond, there is now a gulf of white hot coals of resentment and anger, filled by both of you. Still, a plan is a plan, and a seven year old with sensory integration disorder should understand that.
Or I should.
Anyway, such has been my experience.
But you're a great mommy even if things don't always work out as planned. You do so much for her and she loves you so much!
Me too!
I am laughing out loud! I SOOOO relate. Just last week Hannah practically fell asleep on the two minute trip to my friend's house after school. Said friend offered to watch all three girls. During those two hours Hannah played catch and keep away with the dog--to exhaustion. I suddenly remembered that our church was having its annual fundraiser chili feed. Could I miss that? Evidently not. Hannah behaved beautifully, hugging people hello, talking, eating, acting happy...until I put her soup in a carry out container before she finished. You would think I had thrown it away. Of course, at that point nothing would "fix" it except leaving. When two entire tablesful of people turned to look at us, I simply smiled and waved. Katie escaped to the bathroom. After about ten minuted I finally herded Hannah out the door.
Sensory overload for one and all.
I've missed you.
xxxooo
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