Family Health Marriage Travel

The Happiest Place On Earth

Last weekend, God once again ordered me to complete a three day community service stint at Disneyland as my penance for lighting fires and drowning kittens in a previous life.  Apparently I was a real bitch before I reincarnated into Erin-1979.  Fortunately, I have really turned things around in this life. 

The best Disney experience ever was when Mike, me, our three kids, my sister/soulmate and niece all stayed in one tiny hotel room for a week to save money.  Since Mike held the almighty credit card, he felt this gave him the unconstrained liberty to poop in our lone bathroom whenever he felt the need.  Thoughtfully, my sister and I would go to the hotel lobby to shit because we are ladies, that’s why.  Every day we would go to one of the parks, which are incidentally built directly on top of the equator since it is hotter than holy hell, split a valium and swathe our heads in t-shirts and pretend we were Muslims since Mike is hyper and always walks in front of us.

Anywho, during last week’s vaca, I concluded the most ill-fated inanimate object in the world is a motorized scooter in Disneyland.  At one point, I wanted to slap a churro out of a man’s hand and scream, “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP THE BLEEDING!!!”  I was a fucking nervous wreck the ENTIRE time because I was afraid someone would have a heart attack next to me and I would inevitably be the only one CPR Certified-compliments of the Red Cross babysitting class I took when I was twelve.  Predictably, the dying person would likely vomit in my mouth, exposing my discriminate palate to a regurgitated turkey leg and my life would be ruined but that is just the sort of selfless person I am.

Meanwhile, while I was harshly judging my fellow human beings despite knowing nothing about them (which incidentally always leaves me feeling hollow inside, don’t do it) I received two urgent messages on my cell phone.  My daughter’s blood results were in and her doctor had called to inform me that I was to remove all dairy, wheat, nuts and tomatoes from her diet effective immediately.  Affirmative: I totally shit myself.

For over six years now, my daughter has grappled off and on with bizarre illnesses.  Whenever she catches a cold she will often vomit for days.  A stomach bug usually means an IV if I miss the window to give her an anti-nausea suppository.  Last year we had her tonsils and adenoids removed and she became so dehydrated she was readmitted twice.  A couple times her knees have randomly swelled up for no apparent reason.  She misses an average of five days a school a month because she is absolutely lethargic following an episode and still nobody could tell me what was happening to her.

Finally my anxiety bitch slapped me and I found the doctor that could help my child.  He agreed with me that something was unusual and they ran numerous tests on her.  Turns out, that for most of her life I have unknowingly been feeding her foods she is highly allergic to causing her immune system to go all North Korea on her.  Annnnnd since you never leave a wounded soldier on the field, this past weekend our entire family became gluten, dairy and nut free (Mike gave up his a long time ago).  Annnnnd I have vacillated between sheer gratitude that my daughter will be eventually be healed, tremendous guilt as her mother for not knowing how to help her sooner and total depression because I fucking loved my coffee creamer.    

Once upon a time my therapist taught me the valuble coping mechanism of visualization. So whenever I am having a really bad day like when I find out I have been poisoning my daughter, or have to go to Disneyland, or have to give my expensive cat to my mom because people would judge me if I gave her my allergic kid instead… For the times I am invited to baby showers or accidentally leave a dead chicken in my car for three months, or when the neighbor kid leaves the hamster cage open and Aretha Franklin escapes for days and I forget to tell Mike because like hi, I am busy and then she runs up his leg and he totally overreacts instead of being happy like a normal person… I simply swallow an anti-anxiety pill, close my eyes and envision my afterlife.

I picture myself chilling (literally, because I am dead, get it?) on a plush lawn chair, at a tranquil beach, with no revolting insects, relaxing with all my friends and the few family members I liked, all of which are also conveniently dead.  Super hot dead cabana boys bring us an endless supply of nachos with fake cheese and beer since calories do not matter when you are dead.  We periodically tap our Corona bottles, laughing, reminiscing, until someone casually remarks, “Was life like the ultimate mind fuck or what?!”  And then I open my eyes and serenely return to the present moment to go clean up a pile of dog shit knowing that this will not last forever…XO


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