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| Parent IQ |  |
It’s true. There’s something about sharing your living space with juveniles that saps the brain cells from your head leaving you to wander your home trying to remember why you wanted to be in that particular room. It’s chronic. It’s incurable. There are no research grants, no telethons and absolutely no hope. How else do you explain making jet airplane noises while doing wild loop-de-loops with a spoonful of mashed peas, doing frantic dances and pantomimes in front of the world at large in order to finish a restaurant meal or pretending to like broccoli? Or how about these intellectual gems: What do you have to say for yourself? Don’t you interrupt me! Do you even know the color of the carpeting in your room? You’ll like these kids. They’re your age. Put on a jacket. I’m freezing. Well, add the events of a recent late December morning when Beloved Spouse and I took our daughter and two of her friends to the tubing park at Mt. Bachelor. We volunteered to do so. On purpose. Just know that, okay? The weather and certain inexperienced winter drivers (and you know who you are) turned a normal 30-minute drive to over an hour and even though we were going an average of 15 mph, I got carsick. How, I do not know. But I was definitely green about the gills by the time we got to the parking lot at the base. We arrived at our local winter wonderland o’ joy and exited the car only to be slapped upside our collective heads with a raging blizzard. The news that evening said the wind gusts were estimated to be about 60 mph but they couldn’t be sure because the wind gauge froze. Really. We considered roping our group of five together but declined and bravely set off for our first destination: the ticket booth. Or at least Beloved Spouse did. I made a beeline for the bathroom. My Frosted Cheerios came out much faster than they went in and when I was preparing to heave again, the lights went out. I am SO not kidding. There I am, in a foreign bathroom stall, in the absolute darkest dark with no clue as to how I can get out. But I did and I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for all unintentional groping that was committed by my person. Then, onward we trekked through the whirling winds and sandblasting snow that gave everyone a facial whether they wanted it or not and made it to the tubing park only to find the tow ropes had frozen. We chose to wait it out in the ski shop and I sought out the nearest facilities because apparently, I still had some Frosted Cheerios that wanted out. I had no sooner locked my stall door when the lights went out again. At this point, I knew without a doubt, that God, in His infinite wisdom, was having a mighty good laugh at my expense. Ha, HA, God! Ha, ha. Power was restored to the ski lifts and we stomped out to tube because, by golly, we were going to have fun even if it killed us. I was much further along in the process than the others but then, you probably already knew that by now. I did three runs before I conceded. Alone, I stumbled out to the car, which was parked approximately 50 miles away, or so it seemed, only to find the car doors had frozen shut. I dug deep and found the strength and resolve to chip away the ice armed only with my gloved hands and an abundance of profanity. Looking at myself in the car mirror, I saw a grim picture. You could not tell where my hair ended and the earmuffs began. My entire head was covered in several layers of ice that gave me a similar appearance to Cher when she wore those Bob Mackie tinfoil wigs on The Sonny and Cher Show. It was not a good look for me. Or Cher. The lower half of my face was covered in frozen nasal lava, my eyes were bloodshot and I knew, without a doubt, I was going to vomit again. The rest of my crew returned to the car a while later and when I heard my daughter laughing with her friends over the great time they had had, my first thought was: “Maybe we should go again tomorrow.” Because I’m a parent. And I’m stupid. |
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