I am woman, hear me roar

Most women are brave. Single moms are braver. I’ve been both.

I’ve found my way without directions before GPS, entered a dark house alone, and opened unsolicited envelopes from the I.R.S. I’ve tasted milk from expired gallon jugs before serving it to my kids when they were small. (I have to admit when they turned into teens, I was tempted to try the aged milk on them first.)

But roller coaster rides! That’s another story.

Someone told me that if you held your breath while going down the slopes, you didn’t feel it. I almost swallowed my tongue on Disneyland’s Dumbo, the Flying Elephant ride. When I pushed the extra large joy stick down that naughty Dumbo plunged to earth.  I’m more of a Jungle Cruise type person where I can leave the driving to someone else.

Determined that my kids not have my same fears, I braved amusement parks over and over, doing my best to steer clear of the really scary rides. I would have turned in my lifetime allotment of E tickets after riding scream-less on the Pirates of the Caribbean Cruise. But, no. My kids pushed the envelope. Those upside down, twisty, turny ones that sounded like a herd of Dumbo rejects were more than I bargained for.

At Knott’s Berry Farm, Cheezy, my youngest, had bribed me to go on one with him. “I’ll be so good,” he said, “you’ll think you have four good kids.” I fell for it. They lowered a heavy duty harness. They should have put duct tape over my mouth. I had little kids crying before we even pushed off.

I can’t believe it. When did Disney start hiring sadists? They took already scary roller coasters and added big hairy monsters.  And those were just the guides keeping order in the lines.

But I’d do better with my grandchildren, I promised. Universal Studios would be my proving grounds. The Bug is timid on the rides like I am, so I had to be strong. I lied to told him about the blowing out as you free fall and feel like you’re dying move.

The GAP, the Bug, and I stood in line for Jurassic Park, the Adventure. Adventure, yeah, right.  I drew in a deep breath as we got to the final drop. The Bug held on as tight as he could. The fall began. Darkness overcame me. I had the weirdest sensation that my blouse had blown over my face. Okay, so not many people end up with the hat of the guy sitting in front you in their face.

Oddly, I felt brave, enough that I rode again. And so did the Bug. Oh, dear, from the looks of the photograph as took that final dive, I may have been a little premature in claiming such a high level of courage.

Do you think the hat was magic? From now on, whenever I go on a roller coaster, I’ll make sure a man wearing a hat sits in front of me.

Related posts:

1. Weekend at grandma’s
2. Let me introduce you to my family
3. Play ball
4. Family vacation Chevy Chase style
5. What’s in a name?