Yea Tho I Walk Through the Shadow of the Valley of Fair

I'm pretty certain that my best friend and I share the same mother. Or at least the same prototype of Mom. You'd swear with the guilt trips they make they were Jewish, but no - just really good at booking their daughters on the one-way ticket to "My Daughter Stabs Out My Heart Just by Her Very existence"

Our moms have never really met, and yet they hold out hope that by us hanging out together we might venture back to a Kingdom Hall. If this weren't a blog you'd hear my gales of "fat fuggin chance" laughter.

Neither of us have escaped without a few chilling stories that could rival Mommy Dearest. Our mom's mean well, and they do love us, but our relationships are far from the Lifetime Movie network material.

However, we get the brilliant notion that we should have a mother/daughter day at Valleyfair. Let the Joan Crawford-lites meet, get to know each other, and exchange exasperated glances at their "crazy" daughters who really should pray more.

Valleyfair. If any place can bring to disfunctional mother/daughter groups together - they can. The lap belts alone force close proximity during a near death experience.

It starts the night before. I've been checking on my mom for the past couple of weeks to make sure she's on the same page. Brings the right gear for "good times", and general chatter. My mom hasn't been to Valleyfair in a good 15 years. I think the last time she went I was five. All of my trips had to be taken with my father. I was pretty surprised she even agreed to come in the first place.

"I've got sunscreen."

"I've got some too. And bring a towel and your swimsuit. Becky's mom wants to for sure hit the water park."

"Ok"

It's odd that some how the role of mother and child has flipped. I'm the one making sure she's bringing the right stuff. I imagine it's only going to amplify from here on out. One day you call to make sure your mom is on time for a family rendevouz, next your asking if she's eating her veggies. Then it's just one more stop before you're changing her diapers. The circle of life I guess.

"Oh hey - since you're the walking pharmacy and herbal medicine guru, do you happen to have any ginger root? Last time I went on some spinny rides I got a little sick - *chuckle* - guess I am getting old"

"That's because you don't eat good."

"Oh really?" I'm pretty sure she can hear me arch my eyebrow over the phone.

"Yes - extra weight will make you more dizzy."

Apparently everything wrong in my life is because I am over weight. I get sick on spinny rides because I am over weight. I have soft fingernails because I am over weight. My socks don't match my shoes because I am over weight. My cats breath smells like cat food because I am overweight. It might surprise you all to know, but the hole in the ozone layer is directly related to my love-affair with pizza rolls.

The day starts sublimely enough a light breeze, sunshine, a communal rub down with sunscreen, and with a spin on the carousel. Nevermind we lost my mom within five minutes of getting on the carousel - but lucky for us we found her afterwards.

It was then on to the Scrambler - or as Becky and I discovered - "Happy Magic Chiropractor." As we wait in line, or Mom's opt for the more traditonal "Happy Magic Shady Bench". We rush to the front of the line excited that we will be the first on the next ride and have our pick of cart. The ride operator is a pretty young blonde who turns to open the gate for us and says "Are you riding, or waiting for someone?"
Yes that's us - the crazy old ladies, with the imaginary children.

While we spin and laugh, whizzing past the crowd again and again, Becky asks, "Will we be this fun when we are 50?"

ZOOM - WHIZZ "God I hope so!"

Next was Power Tower. Becky's mom was sure it would cause her to have a heart attack or mini-stroke. We promised her that if she did, we'd never make her ride on it again.

I think we squeezed on a trip on Wildthing, before having lunch and then making our way to the water park.

The lazy river is the highlight of the park for me. Bobbing on an extremely fake powder blue river is the height of relaxation for me. Sure your kicked in the head by some five year old who refuses to stay on his tube. And the human log jam can be a little daunting the germ-a-phobe, but it's still a slice of watery heaven when it's 80 degrees and you're baking slowly in your black swimsuit.

However we weren't getting wet enough for my taste. Mind you I didn't want to get too wet, (thus the ponytail - hello) but I wasn't happy with a wet butt and mostly dry suit. So on to the RAGIN' RAPIDS! Oh and Ragin' they were! I was doing fine and laughing as I was whipped about and tossed around, until the watefall blinded me. Then a second waterfall tried to drown me, and while sputtering like the drown rat I am I slammed into a fake rock. Fake rocks mind you hurt just as bad as real ones, and I do believe if it were a honda civic that rear-ended me insted of a concreate rock at a water park I'd be calling Geoff Gempler and collecting a nice little personal injury check. Ahh whiplash. The lovely throbbing caress that let's you know you're alive - even if you wish you weren't.

But if that wasn't enough excitement it was on to Hurricane Falls! Oooh! It's a giant rubber disc that hurtles you down a giant water slide. We knew we were in trouble when the slide worker slide our raft into the current and we heard the "wrrrrrrr" of rubber dragging. We were a bit heavy. And then we knew it'd be ever more fun when we wedged at the top of the slide.

Hark is that the sound of a dying sea-lion? No - it's four chubbies in a rubber raft, dragging bottom on the fiberglass slide!

After wiggling loose we began our decent. It wasn't so much a decent as hurtling toward breaking the sound barrier in a rubber raft. And with the fun curvey sides you really whip close to the edge of death. Picturing yourself hurtling out of the raft, flying over the sides, and crush a pack of Asian children is a good way to create family memories. We all laughed hysterically when the ride was over, but I think that's because we realize we cheated death.

We thought to try the waterslides - after taking a snoot full of cholrinated human soup water and simulataneously doing the splits - I think I knew then I was done with water parks.

Nothing else really eventful happened after our near death water park adventure. High Roller, Corkscrew, Northern Lights, Wildthing Part II, Scrambler Part II, and a Ferris Wheel ride. Oh and one round on the bumper cars that would make Doctor Phill proud. Our day of bonding was done.

Considering that only once did our mothers engage in "Jehovah has really blessed us, and we can feel his presence" speech, I think we did pretty good.

I think spending a day where we all got to act like crazy kids brought us a little closer together. The moments where we are definately the kids and they are definately the adults are becoming more rare. Through all their quirks I know our mom's do love us. They just have a really messed up way of expressing it. Then again - it's all the know. It's all we can do to put up with them, and all they can do to love us warts and all.