Life is like a theme park – scream if you want to go faster…

I’m no adrenaline junkie. I’m the annoying one with a nervous disposition that is advised against going on high speed, boisterous rides at theme parks. I’m a self-diagnosed hypochondriac too, being anxious is part of my DNA. I guess you could say that it terrifies me to not be in control of my surroundings. That’s not to say I haven’t surprised myself. Giving birth is definitely my greatest physical achievement. Other than that, I’ve clung desperately to my much braver husband on a jet ski while he cruelly delighted in chasing wakes in San Diego. Against my better judgement, I’ve also paraglided, water-skied and floated in the salty sea in Spain (as a non-swimmer) and even went on a rollercoaster at Euro Disney. I had my eyes closed the entire time but at least I did it.

Like many other children, I loved ‘the amusements’ as they were so called in those halcyon days of childhood. I’d giddily jump from ride to ride with flushed cheeks, weak knees and a churning tummy. I threw up, of course, but that didn’t stop me. There were times I’d stagger of the ‘big’ rides and need to sit down, the colour drained from my face, and I’d have to wait until my heart stopped pounding and the world stopped spinning. This was all incredibly uncool, so I made a decision back then that fun fairs were probably not for me, not if I wanted to have any street cred at any rate.

However, at the weekend, I headed to Planet Fun with my husband, son and my brother, his wife and their little ones, one five months, one three and a half. I watched in awe as the older girl gleefully went from one ride to another with her dad. “Again!” she cried when she hopped off a ridiculously fast one, while her poor father was ashen-faced. As for me, I went on the Dodgems. For those three minutes, I felt like a child again and enjoyed the rush of simply just having fun. My adrenaline-junkie husband, who has jumped out of planes and bungee jumped decided to go on what could only be described as an instrument of torture. This monstrosity not only went upside down, but the car revolved manically whilst completing revolutions. Watching it was enough to make my insides churn. When he finally got off, my poor, green husband whispered, “that was not fun”. Will it stop him from getting on another terrifying ride in the future? Probably not.

In some ways, as you grow older, you feel less burdened by things that might have got to you a decade or two earlier. But in other ways, at least for me, you become more anxious about certain things. It’s good to know your limits, but like my little niece, it’s also brilliant to throw yourself at scary rides, and come out the other side, exhilarated and ready for more. In life, it’s OK to stick within your comfort zone, but it’s better to push yourself, go on the big scary ride. It might not be for you, but it will do your confidence the world of good. Adopt a child-like approach to life, feel the fear and do it anyway. I want my son to take chances, even if they don’t work out.  It’s the things you don’t do in life that you regret the most.

 

 

 

 

 

We are family… on holiday

There was a time when going away on holiday required me to plan my outfits in meticulous detail, pairing shoes and bags with jumpsuits and dresses was the biggest stressor. On a girl’s trip to Spain, I was almost charged for excess baggage – before the trip. Yes, as a woman, you have a lot of stuff. When you’re a mum, there’s a heck of a lot more stuff and none of it yours. Last week, our little family headed off to Ballycastle for a short break. Being organised is not an gift that comes easily to me. I have to work at it. So, naturally, I left packing for myself and Sonny until the morning of the trip, despite ridiculous ideas that we’d be set off ‘first thing’. Sigh. Aside from nappies, nappy sacks, bibs, soothers, steraliser, bottles, formula, there’s the outfits. At a tender three-months-of-age, Sonny has a better wardrobe than me. Cute dungarees, cardigans with ears (obviously) and dinosaur-emblazoned tops and trousers were packed, along with night suits, plus extras should he vomit or pee (or worse) during the night. As for me, my priority was my comfy Stan Smith’s, along with my favourite jeans – a reliable pair of boot- cut Levi’s and a few ‘dressy’ tops. Before Sonny, the thought of wearing trainers out to dinner was a major faux pas. Now, the thought of heels is frankly hilarious, why put yourself through it? It’s not to say I’ll never wear them again, obviously, I’ll dust off the Louboutin’s for a fancy shin dig, should I be invited to such an affair ever again. Another unthinkable thing is not having your hair done for going away. I haven’t had my unruly mane coloured in almost a year. In the last month, my ancient straighteners have given up the ghost and haven’t been replaced. These days, my hairstyle of choice is scraped back into a chignon, because it’s less boring than a bun, or if I can be bothered, a French plait. I’m not completely slumming it though, I did make an effort with my makeup. In my eyes, you can go from washed out to respectable with a good red lipstick.

While Sonny is still too little to properly engage with the world around him, he is certainly showing us glimpses of his sunny personality. It’s pretty intoxicating for your baby to squeal in delight when he sees you. Well that or the fact he was writhing on a sheepskin rug. The wee man is certainly taking after his parent when it comes to comfort!

Our holiday was lovely. As well as eating out, a fairly rare treat these days, we also took the ferry to Rathlin island. I’m not great on boats (not a surprise if you’ve read my previous post on theme parks) but I didn’t vomit despite the ferry being tossed about in pretty scary swells. I’m probably exaggerating but it wasn’t pleasant. Sonny, of course, slept through the entire 25-minute journey. However, on the way back, I have to say, I enjoyed it. My poor husband sat inside with the buggy while I sat on a seat, separated from the freezing Irish sea by a just a bar, squealing as the ferry rode the waves. OK, I had a glass of wine to calm my nerves, but I certainly surprised myself.

We made some special memories in Ballycastle. No longer are holidays about getting blocked. They are about making our little man smile as much as possible. My heart swells when I see my husband smile and blow raspberries at our son. Those are the things I’ll remember now, whereas pre-Sonny, most of the holiday would have been spent recovering from the night before.

I can’t wait for our next one…

 

Dx