Is it too much to ask to have one evening of fun with my family?
ONE. EVENING?!?
I didn't think so.
Until last Thursday.
There's a lot going on here.
With our business.
With our business transition.
With my husband's job.
Personally.
A. LOT.
So me - itinerary girl - thinks, "Hey, wouldn't it be nice to get out for an evening of family holiday fun for a change instead of eating fast food yet again while we snap at each other out of stress-overload-induced bitchiness?"
Let the planning begin.
I like light shows. Not the Pink Floyd psychedelic set-to-music kind. I mean the festival of holiday Christmas lights kind.
When we used to live on the East Coast (AKA Civilization), we would drive through this park every year that would set up a holiday light show - Christmas tree lights in different shapes and forms (like carolers, Rudolph, Santa, etc.). Some would move. Some were just really pretty. Anyway, I always really enjoyed it (shut up - it was simple and nice. Plus shiny things amuse me).
So this year I thought the 10 month old might really appreciate it (yeah, the baby, not me). So after much research (AND THEN MORE RESEARCH), I find a drive-through light show park about an hour from our house.
And not just any light show.
THE BIGGEST HOLIDAY LIGHT SHOW IN THE MIDWEST.
FOUR MILES.
ONE MILLION LIGHTS.
(ONE MILLION!)
WITH A DRIVE-THROUGH LED TUNNEL.
WITH MUSIC.
AND THE ABILITY TO VISIT SANTA AT THE END.
AND DRINK HOT CHOCOLATE.
I know. You can only imagine my squeal of glee.
(It was something like this: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!)
So I think (which may have been where the problems started): We'll go see Santa, have a nice family dinner (at a REAL, SIT-DOWN RESTAURANT!), and then drive on to the park with the lights.
It was a nice plan. Here's how the night really played out:
1. On the way to see Santa our friend calls to say the light show has been cancelled. (SURELY NOT!) I call the park? Yeah, "The only night we've ever been closed! We had flooding." Uh. OK. It's freezing out, there's no snow and hasn't been rain for weeks. BUT OK.
STRIKE ONE.
2. We get to the mall with *supposedly* 40 minutes to spare before Santa takes his break (I mean, he's SANTA. He works for ONE SEASON. He seriously deserves BREAKS?!?). We get there just as they are pulling the tether across the end of the line 40 MINUTES EARLY. We debate (as all the other parents watch) whether to go under the tether anyway (my conniving husband said YES, his honest wife said NO). So we have 2 hours to kill. At the mall. With a baby. In a mini-Mrs. Claus dress. And a headband.
(Did I mention I LOATHE malls?!?)
(Did I mention my daughter hates headbands over her swoopy hair?!?)
As you probably guessed, baby meltdown. Parent meltdown. Standing in line for another hour (we had *that kid* in line - the one where all the other parents watch in horror/amusement that it's not their kid? Yeah. That one.) STILL WAITING FOR SANTA WHO HAD THE NERVE TO BE 25 MINUTES LATE.
STRIKE TWO.
3. Defeated, exhausted, hungry, we drive to our *nice* family dinner. Where the baby promptly passes out in emotional and physical exhaustion (minus the headband) and we eat in an exhausted silence (so NOT the family time I envisioned).
STRIKE THREE.
After all that, there was one redeeming moment where the elves parted the clouds, the fairy dust sprinkled down, the candy canes danced and there was no Noggin Moose A. Moose singing anything for the thousandth time and we got this picture:
I know.
Who can believe.
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