Party pooper
This one will go down as one of those dreadful, shameful, completely unredeemable life events. I'm just sorry.
We learned a few years ago that the penultimate elementary school field trip at the boys' school is a roller coaster design contest along with a day at Kings Dominion, a big-deal amusement park about three hours from us. It's been in the back of my mind ever since then, that of all field trips to go on, this is the one.
My family went there many times as I was growing up, and always always had a great time.
Trey was iffy about going. He doesn't like rides beyond the ferris wheel, but he decided to go just for some time with his friends. So naturally I asked my ride buddy, my Dad, to come along and keep me company in those two-seater coaster cars.
Trey preferred to not acknowledge his built-in chaperones at the park, so we passed him off to a larger group and set off for fun. After backtracking several times and trying to figure out the map, we were told that one of our blasts from the past, The Grizzly, wasn't open yet for the day. Bummer. So we hopped in line for the next visible coaster, Twisted Timbers. Which turned out to be more stunt flight trainer than coaster. No hills to speak of, and instead just a banging back and forth with some complimentary rearrangement of your intestines.
We survived it.
Onto our Rebel Yell, which they've renamed for political reasons but it will always be the Rebel Yell, y'all. Now that is a roller coaster. Way up, fast down, through a tunnel, no whiplash or elbow bruises to be found.
At this point it was time to start heading back to the pavilion where the homemade roller coaster judging would occur. Along our path, we spotted the swings. You know, chained seats hanging in a circle, slowly going round and round. This used to be a favorite of mine because it made me feel like I was flying.
"Do you want to ride the swings?" I asked.
"I'm with you," Dad answered.
Brandon has this saying that every decision seems like a good one at the time.
Yeah.
Well, I knew about ten seconds into the swing ride that I had made a baaaaaad choice. I shut my eyes and prayed hard as the impending-vomit-tingle took over my body. Please don't let me throw up on all those poor people down there. Please make it be over soon. Please let there be a bathroom close by so I won't have to stick my head into that narrow trash can hole.
All prayers were answered, as my sweet Daddy pointed me to the bathrooms and waited the umpteen minutes it took for me to, well, pay for my mistake.
I felt decent enough after that and we slowly made our way to the pavilion.
The migraine hit fast and hard. I collapsed onto a table and sent Dad to check on Trey. Had to make a beeline for yet another bathroom, and at this point germaphobe exited the building and I went full sit on the not-so-clean floor, side of my face resting on the cool stall wall.
That over, I stumbled back to my table and instantly fell asleep. Who knows how long until I felt Trey wake me up and ask me why I was asleep.
"Trey, is there any way you would be willing to leave early? I'm sick and really need to go home."
"Yeah, we can leave early."
Oh my son, the sacrifice you were willing to make for me was the best Mother's Day or any day gift you could have ever given.
I thrust my phone into his hand and told him to find Poppop, then fell asleep again.
Woke up to walk to the exit and had to rush into another bathroom. While full-sitting on that not-so-clean floor, it occurred to me that we needed Trey's bag off the bus and the group wasn't meeting to go to the bus for a little while. Back outside, I found another shaded table and sent Trey and Dad to have a little more fun before we left.
Sleep came easy, at least until a park worker came over to me and asked if I wanted to go to first aid and lay down. Bless her heart, I know she thought I was drunk as I tried to explain what was going on, slurring, head bobbing, and unable to open my eyes more than a slit. Finally I asked her if I could just stay where I was for a few more minutes, and she left.
The guys came back and we made it to the car, where travel sleep began to heal me. Sleep is the only cure for my migraines.
I cannot describe how bad all around this felt. Sure, the migraine was awful. But far worse than the migraine was what I did to two of the most precious fellows in my life. Trey gave up over half of his biggest, funnest field trip ever and my dad gave up a day with hours and hours of driving, then following my green self around everywhere all because I made a dumb decision in complete denial that I'm not nearly as young as I used to be.
And we had such plans, too. Trey had agreed to spend some time after lunch with his Poppop and me, and we were picking out all the rides we thought he'd do with us. The ferris wheel, the go carts, bumper cars, the log flume. I so wanted these memories.
Dreadful.
Apologies just aren't enough, and I deserve every bit of the flack I've taken over this. Which is a bunch.
This is the only photo of the fun from the day, texted to me by a friend who hung with Trey while everyone else was on a ride. Dad and I are third back, getting jerked around by the Twisted Timbers.
Not to be forgotten, Trey and his team built a model roller coaster for the competition, and to our surprise, it had Bible verses all over it. Along with models of the three crosses. How bold a move, how faithful those boys are to put their time and thought into something like that, that would be put on display at a big public place for hundreds of people to see.
Trey Isaiah has my heart for sure.
We learned a few years ago that the penultimate elementary school field trip at the boys' school is a roller coaster design contest along with a day at Kings Dominion, a big-deal amusement park about three hours from us. It's been in the back of my mind ever since then, that of all field trips to go on, this is the one.
My family went there many times as I was growing up, and always always had a great time.
Trey was iffy about going. He doesn't like rides beyond the ferris wheel, but he decided to go just for some time with his friends. So naturally I asked my ride buddy, my Dad, to come along and keep me company in those two-seater coaster cars.
Trey preferred to not acknowledge his built-in chaperones at the park, so we passed him off to a larger group and set off for fun. After backtracking several times and trying to figure out the map, we were told that one of our blasts from the past, The Grizzly, wasn't open yet for the day. Bummer. So we hopped in line for the next visible coaster, Twisted Timbers. Which turned out to be more stunt flight trainer than coaster. No hills to speak of, and instead just a banging back and forth with some complimentary rearrangement of your intestines.
We survived it.
Onto our Rebel Yell, which they've renamed for political reasons but it will always be the Rebel Yell, y'all. Now that is a roller coaster. Way up, fast down, through a tunnel, no whiplash or elbow bruises to be found.
At this point it was time to start heading back to the pavilion where the homemade roller coaster judging would occur. Along our path, we spotted the swings. You know, chained seats hanging in a circle, slowly going round and round. This used to be a favorite of mine because it made me feel like I was flying.
"Do you want to ride the swings?" I asked.
"I'm with you," Dad answered.
Brandon has this saying that every decision seems like a good one at the time.
Yeah.
Well, I knew about ten seconds into the swing ride that I had made a baaaaaad choice. I shut my eyes and prayed hard as the impending-vomit-tingle took over my body. Please don't let me throw up on all those poor people down there. Please make it be over soon. Please let there be a bathroom close by so I won't have to stick my head into that narrow trash can hole.
All prayers were answered, as my sweet Daddy pointed me to the bathrooms and waited the umpteen minutes it took for me to, well, pay for my mistake.
I felt decent enough after that and we slowly made our way to the pavilion.
The migraine hit fast and hard. I collapsed onto a table and sent Dad to check on Trey. Had to make a beeline for yet another bathroom, and at this point germaphobe exited the building and I went full sit on the not-so-clean floor, side of my face resting on the cool stall wall.
That over, I stumbled back to my table and instantly fell asleep. Who knows how long until I felt Trey wake me up and ask me why I was asleep.
"Trey, is there any way you would be willing to leave early? I'm sick and really need to go home."
"Yeah, we can leave early."
Oh my son, the sacrifice you were willing to make for me was the best Mother's Day or any day gift you could have ever given.
I thrust my phone into his hand and told him to find Poppop, then fell asleep again.
Woke up to walk to the exit and had to rush into another bathroom. While full-sitting on that not-so-clean floor, it occurred to me that we needed Trey's bag off the bus and the group wasn't meeting to go to the bus for a little while. Back outside, I found another shaded table and sent Trey and Dad to have a little more fun before we left.
Sleep came easy, at least until a park worker came over to me and asked if I wanted to go to first aid and lay down. Bless her heart, I know she thought I was drunk as I tried to explain what was going on, slurring, head bobbing, and unable to open my eyes more than a slit. Finally I asked her if I could just stay where I was for a few more minutes, and she left.
The guys came back and we made it to the car, where travel sleep began to heal me. Sleep is the only cure for my migraines.
I cannot describe how bad all around this felt. Sure, the migraine was awful. But far worse than the migraine was what I did to two of the most precious fellows in my life. Trey gave up over half of his biggest, funnest field trip ever and my dad gave up a day with hours and hours of driving, then following my green self around everywhere all because I made a dumb decision in complete denial that I'm not nearly as young as I used to be.
And we had such plans, too. Trey had agreed to spend some time after lunch with his Poppop and me, and we were picking out all the rides we thought he'd do with us. The ferris wheel, the go carts, bumper cars, the log flume. I so wanted these memories.
Dreadful.
Apologies just aren't enough, and I deserve every bit of the flack I've taken over this. Which is a bunch.
This is the only photo of the fun from the day, texted to me by a friend who hung with Trey while everyone else was on a ride. Dad and I are third back, getting jerked around by the Twisted Timbers.
Not to be forgotten, Trey and his team built a model roller coaster for the competition, and to our surprise, it had Bible verses all over it. Along with models of the three crosses. How bold a move, how faithful those boys are to put their time and thought into something like that, that would be put on display at a big public place for hundreds of people to see.
Trey Isaiah has my heart for sure.
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