I Owe My Mother an Apology
For many things
This time I’m saying sorry for all the lovely excursions my snotty attitude and sore feet ruined.
spring for the double stroller.
Before having children with snotty attitudes and sore feet of their own, I never realized what a miracle it was to ever leave the house. And to think my mother, that super goddess, did it with three children and no smartphone. How did she know when the museum opened on Tuesdays? If GPS didn’t tell her when to turn…How did we ever find anything?
Oh my God, we did things like taking trains! Which, of course, took too long and smelled. Why couldn’t we just drive? When we did drive we were thirsty, hungry, bored, car sick, and needing to pee. Even after we just stopped…to pee.
The thirst! You would have thought every outing took place in the Serengeti. I swore if ever my child asked for apple juice they would get apple juice. It would be overpriced and from a coffee shop. Not lukewarm in a box from the bottom of the snack bag. Which, by the way, is very heavy and took an hour to organize while we laid on the couch not putting our shoes and socks on.
And I’m really sorry I spent the day whining to go to the gift shop to spend the five dollars Grandma gave me and not standing in wonder, enchanted by whatever culturally educational once-in-a-lifetime experience she dragged me to.
I now know what it’s like to finish a hike with a teddy bear jammed in my pants. Sure, my five-year-old said he would carry it. Sure, I told him he better just leave it in the car. But in order for none of us alive or stuffed to perish on the side of the Santa Monica mountains, I dragged us all up the hill. At the end, did we enjoy the view? Of course not. Our backs were too sweaty. Why did we even have to go outside!?
Tommy and I recently took an adventure to the West Coast, which not only included almost dying while hiking the Santa Monica mountains … but …drum roll please … the happiest place on earth! Mother fricking Disney Land!
My generous sister-in-law bought us all Mickey ears. The cousins all had matching shirts and hats. We may have even tiptoed into the underbelly of tourist attractions and made arrangements to get to the front of the line at every ride. But I would never admit to that. But I will say it was expensive. But never happened.
And Tom’s favorite part of this amazing day? Playing by the garbage can at the Space Mountain Pizza Place. He cried when it was time to go and live out yet another magical experience. The parade? Dumb. We were out of popcorn. The roller coaster? Too short.
Not impressed on the “Finding Dory” ride.
I love Thomas so much, but as Goofy is my witness, I almost strangled him. We made it back in one piece. Sure, he says his favorite part of the whole trip was watching “Sing” and “Trolls” on the airplane, but I don’t believe him.
Thank God my mom continued to turn the TV off and drag us spoiled brats out of the house. She gave me a true sense of adventure. I will spend the next 18 years underwhelming my children with thoughtful, expensive excursions and look forward to their apology.
Oh, and Mom, I remember a lot of awesome stuff, too.