What a Difference

What a difference a year makes.

Last year around this time I wrote a post about our younger daughter having a tough timegoing to her friend's birthday party. That party was at a jump house place and the second we walked in my daughter wanted to turn around and go home. Mostly because she's not crazy about big crowds or loud noises, and this place has both when you fill it with 20 little four year old kids and their parents.

Now flash forward to this year and this same friend has her party at the same place. Yes, the same place, much to her mother's chagrin. I told the mom that I'd do my best to talk it up and see if I could get my daughter to agree to go.

Apparently that worked because the week of the party she said she would give it a shot.

And then the day of the party came and she said she wouldn't give it a shot.

Nonetheless, since we were committed to it by that time, I said we were going. I made it clear that if she wasn't happy we always had the option to leave. Or to just wait it out for cake.

So we showed up and you'll never beleive what she said to me when we walked in to the place.

"I want to go home."

What?

You thought it was going to be that easy?

Not a chance.

In fact, it took much of my energy and creativity and positive thinking for about 20 minutes before we finally got to a place where she would go into a jumpy with me. And let me tell you that these days I don't have a lot of spare energy just sitting on a shelf ready to go when I want it. But for this occasion, it was worth it.

When I saw that there was no one in the jump house with the basketball hoop I almost had her in that one with me, until some girls came up and got in it right before us. So she renegged. And she LOVES basketball, so I knew it was going to take a little special effort on my part to make this happen.

Next I eyed the obstacle course and saw that at that moment no one was in it. So quick like a bunny I got her over there and in it before she could complain. I feined needing help, acting like a big goof ball that was stuck to the inflatable. I told her to hurry or else someone else would come. I tried a number of tricks but she wasn't budging much past the entry point.

Then I started acting like we were on a pirate ship and told her we had to climb up the hill before the sharks came. This made her laugh a little, but she still wasn't all in. Finally we got on top of the little hill and waited it out for a bit. From there we could sort of feel more like we were in charge. Or at least above all the chaos.

At that point we were caught on film actually enjoying ourselves. The shame of it all.

Before long a little boy came through that I recognized, who happened to be named Jack, so I started calling him Jack Sparrow in my best pirate's voice. Then he bought into our game and before long he was saying that the sharks were coming our way. This then turned into us running out the course and back around again chasing after him - or perhaps he was chasing us - and having a bit more fun than either of us had thought would happen.

Then it was time to enter the next room for more inflatable craziness. Although I think we entered a parallel world really, because at this point my daughter was up and running, exploring everything in the room.

We threw some balls, climbed a wall and went down a very steep slide many many times, and then ended up in the basketball inflatable. She was happy as a clam shooting hoops and jumping around. She would play with friends that came and joined us. And if too many came along I'd see her start to shut down a bit, so we'd move over to the other side where there was another hoop to play with.

All in all, a very successful outing. Things are definitely starting to look up for her.

Another remarkable difference recently was during our trip to Disneyland. Last time we were there, which was actually two years ago, the sound of all the fireworks made her cry and she really didn't enjoy the show, watching it the whole time with her ears covered by her hands which were then covered by my hands.

This year she was perfectly happy to take it all in.

It's worth saying again; what a difference a year makes.

Happy Happy Joy Joy

Last week my husband and I decided to surprise our kids with a trip to Disneyland during the Spring Break week.

And surprised they were.

"Oh my God!" our oldest kept saying. Even with our insisting she say "goodness", she was just too beside herself to adhere to the rules of etiquette. "I can't believe we are going to Disneyland tomorrow!" she exclaimed. And our younger daughter stated "that's the best surprise EVER."

Perhaps we should have just stayed in that blissful state and not actually gone on the trip.

Nah.

So we packed ourselves in the car and made the 8 hour trip down South. Of course not before some last minute panicking to move the trip departure up one day due to some expected rains in Anaheim. But we did make it out of the house at 8am and we were in the Disneyland park before 4pm.

Not bad for our brood.

That first afternoon was a little bit hellish. We were overwhelmed by it all and didn't know where to start. But after lots of sugar snacks and finally getting our oldest on a ride we were all off and running.

We hit as many rides and attractions as we could squeeze into 17 hours in that park. Our 2nd day was by far the most productive as we took on the "divide and conquer" approach and got our oldest on plenty of rides and roller coasters, while keeping the younger ones happy with repeat visits to Buzz Lightyear's ride.

So long as you don't mind eating fried, greasy, sugary or fatty foods and standing in line for about half of your allotted park time (with and without the kids, for your own sanity) then I think you could really spend more time at that park then we allowed. We didn't get to a lot of the rides that would have been fun to visit, but then again, there's always next time.

A couple of the wildest rides for our family took place after we left the park and went back to our hotel. Remember how I mentioned our last minute change to leave a day early? Well that led to us only being able to book a smoking room at our hotel, lest we stay at a different hotel or lose one night's deposit.

Mental note if that ever happens again: we'll just stay at a different hotel and/or lose the money.

Upon walking up to our room our oldest found the right number and said "There it is! But why does it say "smoking" under the number?" I then try to set realistic expectations and say "well it's a room where they allow people to smoke so it will probably smell a little bit..." and then my husband pipes in and says "now we don't know that it'll be bad so don't put that in their heads..." and then we open the door.

"Jesus Christ! That's disgusting!" my husband exclaims. Way to go daddy. Nice management of the expectations.

Immediately I plug in the air freshener that I brought and start burning candles. While we are all adjusting to the overpowering smell and trying to keep in mind that the room really is clean, even if it doesn't smell like it, our daughters start fighting about who gets the sofa bed. Even with a queen size hide-a-bed, the girls don't want to share. Our benevolent middle child volunteers to sleep on cushions on the floor. Meanwhile our son is doing the same thing in the bedroom where we will sleep.

After a brief episode of tears from our younger daughter, while she says over and over "I want to go home", we finally get them all to sleep.

Overtired is understated.

In the morning we all shower and get out of that stinky room as fast as possible. We pack up, leave our stuff at the front desk in anticipation of our non-smoking room for that night, and head to breakfast. As we are leaving the hotel I try to pump everyone into a good mood by saying "Okay guys, today is all about fun. Today is happy happy joy joy! Right!?" and a guy walking past us just smirks as he sees our small army make our way to the land of Mickey.

After a long day of crazy fun, our next wild ride was still ahead of us as we got back to the hotel that night. Again, it was a long, exhausting and overstimulating day, so we were really happy to enter our clean room, that even smelled clean this time.

We start to settle in and I decide to partake in the chocolate chip cookies that the hotel gave us when we checked in. My oldest grabs one and takes a bite, but then says "Yuck! It has nuts!" and puts it down. But my younger two and I decide that the nuts are okay and we munch away.

Almost immediately my son says his upper lip hurts. I figure he must have bit it and I pretty much blow it off, trying to offer him some juice to get his mind off it.

He then says "That doesn't help....see? {insert long sip here} It still hurts!"

Then he starts to really cry. I'm not real sure what's up with him, but I figure he must just be overtired.

Then I see that his upper lip is starting to swell. And the tears won't stop. Then the drool starts running down his chin. When I say "where does it hurt?" he just points to his throat.

Uh-oh.

I now alert the husband and we bring him into the bathroom where I can get a good look at him.

Since my son has so much saliva that's building up in his mouth because he's avoiding swallowing, he can't help but inhale some while he's crying. Which then brings on the gagging. And his upper lip is only getting bigger.

Now panic sets in. I tell my husband that I think he's having a reaction to something. He goes and gets the cookie wrapper and says there are walnuts in the cookies.

Now you should know that my son eats nuts all the time. His favorite drug snack mix has peanuts in it. He's addicted to the stuff.

But then I realize that I don't think he's ever had walnuts. We have a nut mix at home that he eats too, but he sticks to the cashews mostly. And that mix, to the best of my recollection, doesn't have walnuts.

My husband then says "I'm not messing around with this" and he picks up the phone and calls 9-1-1. He explains to the dispatch operator what's going on, making it clear that our son can breathe fine, as evidenced by the persistent crying. But since his lips are getting bigger and the gagging is also persisting, they send out the Calvary.

Then the manager of the hotel meanders up to our room, apparently alerted that we called 911. I tell him the scenario and together we walk down to the lobby with my son to meet the ambulance.

But much to my delight, we are greeted in the lobby by a full size fire truck. Lights spinning, sirens blaring.

By this time my son has calmed down and is in awe of the big fire truck. And I'm feeling a little silly for all of this fuss when he seems to now be getting better, not worse.

Three fire men and a medic come in and take a look at my son.

So you see, it's just another ordinary day for me, hanging out in the lobby of a hotel with a bunch of young fire men.

In the end, he was fine. Lungs were clear and no hives. Just seriously fat lips and a light rash on his face. And of course the throat thing, which seemed to subside pretty fast after he calmed down.

And while all this was going on I couldn't help but think that I always knew our first call to 911 would be because of our son. I just figured it would be because of something he did, not because of something we had any hand in.

The medic offered a shot of benedryll, but I remembered that we had some antihistamine in the room, so we just went back up and gave him some drugs.

It did take about 12 hours for his lips to go back to normal. But the next day, including the car ride home, was relatively uneventful.

And returning to our smoke-free, walnut-free, line-free, low-sugar, high-comfort home after all that craziness was what I would definitely call happy happy joy joy.