Through a mother's eyes

It's amazing how being a mother changes your perspective. Yesterday we took our children, along with one of Kylie's friends, to a local amusement park. I have been to this park countless times as a child, teen, young adult, and even as a mother, but yesterday is the first day I really experienced it through "mother's eyes".

The first ride we went on was the "Sea Dragon". This is a large ship that swings like a pendulum, carrying you high up into the air then dropping you back down. The girls wanted to sit in the very back seat, so I sat in the middle with a little six year old on either side. My first thought when the safety bar lowered across our laps and my hands gripped the top of it was "hmmmm, this feels disgustingly sticky, I don't even want to know how many germs are using this rubber covered bar as a breeding ground", of course, this thought was quickly followed by "hmmmm, this bar really doesn't feel like it's locked in the down position, I hope it doesn't release mid-ride and send us all plunging to our deaths". Unfortunately that thought was taking place as the ride was making its first swing skyward. It was that thought that prompted me to move my hands from the bar and place them over each of the girls' hands, as if that alone could hold them in the ride in the event of a catastrophic event (much like my mother used to throw her arm across my chest when we would be riding in our family's old station wagon and she would stop fast - yes Mom, that would keep me from flying through the windshield in an accident). Thankfully the bar was locked, the ride was brief, and despite Kylie's insistence that she was going to throw up if they didn't stop the ride we all survived with no bodily fluids being expelled. (And the finger prints I left in each girls' hand had pretty much disappeared by the end of the day!)

Not to be deterred, we moved on to the big roller coaster. The girls insisted they wanted to sit in the front seat, and since there was only room for the two of them I sat in the seat behind them. The seat belt and "grip" bar in the roller coaster were also sticky and no doubt "germtastically" nasty. Any second thoughts I may have had over the girls choice of seats was confirmed when I heard a woman a few seats behind us say to her companion "look at how brave those little girls are, sitting right in the front seat!". No sooner did the words leave her mouth than the ride started. It was 1 minute and 40 seconds of stomach lurching, brain bouncing terror at speeds averaging 62 mph and numerous drops, the largest of which was 82 feet. My eyes were closed the entire time, except for every few seconds when I would pry them open to make sure there were still two little blond heads bobbing around in front of me. I resisted the urge to hold on to the pony tails in the front seat instead of the metal bar, but it was tempting.

After that ride Kylie decided she wasn't quite as brave as she had first thought. This would have been fine with me, I was finding that my enjoyment of thrill rides was not nearly as great as it used to be. Unfortunately this meant that Ky's friend Madi, who is a bit of a daredevil (and therefore a perfect match for Ky, or so we thought), had nobody to accompany her on the rides. Since we obviously couldn't let Madi go on the rides alone, and since dear hubby, having recently been diagnosed with arthritis in his knee is off the hook somewhat these days for things that place a lot of stress on said knee (for example, bending to get in and out of amusement park rides), I knew who Madi's co-rider would have to be.

It's surprising what thoughts run wild through your head as you are buckled, strapped, or otherwise restrained inside an amusement park ride. On "The Flying Trapeze" I wondered just exactly how (and how often) one checks rides for metal fatigue, how sturdy the chains holding the swing on which I was sailing high above the park at a dizzying speed were, should that bolt above my head really be that rusty, and if the shoes flew off the feet of the riders in front of me and smacked me in the head could that possibly kill me? On "Thunderbolt" I wondered why there was the need for a sign in the operator's booth that said "BE SURE RIDE COMES TO A COMPLETE STOP BEFORE PRESSING THE BACK BUTTON", and I wanted to point out to the young girl in the booth that we had really only come to a rolling stop as her finger reached for the button. Unfortunately before the words could form in my mouth we were zooming around backwards. I think it was at this point I found myself hoping that if I was indeed killed in some freak amusement park accident and headlined the local 6:00 news that my family would at least retain the very best attorney available and run the owners of said amusement park into the ground. Oh yes, I also spent a lot of time praying, which seemed appropriate since so many of the rides took me high up into the air and presumably closer to heaven.

Looking back on my experience yesterday I wondered when it all changed. When did the fun-filled amusement park of my youth become the bacteria filled petri dish complete with creaking, treacherous, "should it really be making that sound" attractions? It only took a minute for me to find the answer. It all changed at 2:59 am on Tuesday, October 13th, 1998 - the moment Kylie was born. Before we had children I worried about something happening to the people I loved, or how they would move on with their lives if something happened to me, but that was nothing compared to the anxiety that accompanies motherhood. Now I know why my mother always had that look on her face when we went to the amusement park when I was a child. It was a look of apprehension, mild disgust, slight fear, and fervent hope that in spite of everything her child would enjoy every minute. I suspect that's the look that was on my face yesterday, as I experienced the park through a mother's eyes.