jsmla
DIS Veteran
- Joined
- Mar 19, 2001
- Messages
- 4,498
Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family....in another city.
George Burns
Don't I have a nifty title? I'm not good at clever titles. I'm still a bit overwhelmed by what I just did. I went to Disneyworld ALL BY MYSELF!!!! I don't do things by myself, not ever. I went straight from the middle of my own family to my husband's, always surrounded by parents, brother, in-laws and kids. So what happened?
If you ask everyone around me what happened they'll say that I lost my mind. It wasn't my fault though (Is it ever?), my family drove me to it. My parents came over for Christmas laden with fat checks for the kids and plenty of diet/cooking/housekeeping/parenting advice for me. The scholarship people are not thrilled with DS Sam's grades. His facebook.com page features Sam sporting a kamikaze headband and chugging what appears to be a bottle of Windex. I think this explains a lot about Sam. (I don't look at facebook any more.) DD Lizzie has a new winter formal dress. It's very cute, all 12 inches of it. She's making all kinds of plans to go clubbin' on her 18th birthday. Haven't told DH about that yet. He's still recovering from dress-shock.
Not that he deserves any special consideration. He swore to love me in good times and bad. We do okay with the bad times, it's the good ones that are going to kill us. Scott was supposed to be taking me to Disney world at the end of January. That was the plan when I agreed to spend our anniversary in Bandera, Texas (Cowboy Capitol of the World for the less sophisticated among you). I go to Texas, he goes to Disney. Give and take, that's what marriage is about. Yup, that's what marriage is all about until your DH makes the finals (to be held smack in the middle of MY trip) of some stupid cowboy thing. Then marriage becomes all about making sacrifices and my Disney vacation headed straight for the funeral pyre. I could probably have forced Scott to go to Disney, but he would hate it. I could have been all noble and supportive and gone to his cowboy thing, but I would hate that. Scott is the only thing that I find even remotely attractive about cowboying. I can't for the life of me imagine why anyone would voluntarily spend their weekends breathing in dried cow manure and peeing in a horse trailer. For about a week I settled on a course of serious pouting. I lurked all over the DIS boards reading up on all of the fun everyone else was having (Hi, my name is Jennifer and I'm a trip report-aholic.) and noticed that some of these people were actually going to Disney alone. Alone, solo, unaccompanied, all by their lonesome. How crazy is that? Who goes on vacation by themselves? I thought about the Windex, the clubbin, the horse trailer/toilet and decided that I did.
To say my family took my news badly would be an understatement. Lizzie, the consummate social butterfly, thought it was just sad. Scott was worried about the car and my safety. My mother out-an-out forbade me to go. Sam was the only one without an opinion. Too busy keeping his own backside out of hot water is my guess. I decided not to worry about it because:
1.Lizzie will pity me no matter what I do.
2. I don't think that a man who regularly climbs up onto 750 lbs of heaving, over-excited horseflesh in order to chase wild cows around an arena has any business talking about safety to anyone.
3.In the immortal words of Ariel, I'm not a child anymore. I'm 45 years old, so there!
George Burns
Don't I have a nifty title? I'm not good at clever titles. I'm still a bit overwhelmed by what I just did. I went to Disneyworld ALL BY MYSELF!!!! I don't do things by myself, not ever. I went straight from the middle of my own family to my husband's, always surrounded by parents, brother, in-laws and kids. So what happened?
If you ask everyone around me what happened they'll say that I lost my mind. It wasn't my fault though (Is it ever?), my family drove me to it. My parents came over for Christmas laden with fat checks for the kids and plenty of diet/cooking/housekeeping/parenting advice for me. The scholarship people are not thrilled with DS Sam's grades. His facebook.com page features Sam sporting a kamikaze headband and chugging what appears to be a bottle of Windex. I think this explains a lot about Sam. (I don't look at facebook any more.) DD Lizzie has a new winter formal dress. It's very cute, all 12 inches of it. She's making all kinds of plans to go clubbin' on her 18th birthday. Haven't told DH about that yet. He's still recovering from dress-shock.
Not that he deserves any special consideration. He swore to love me in good times and bad. We do okay with the bad times, it's the good ones that are going to kill us. Scott was supposed to be taking me to Disney world at the end of January. That was the plan when I agreed to spend our anniversary in Bandera, Texas (Cowboy Capitol of the World for the less sophisticated among you). I go to Texas, he goes to Disney. Give and take, that's what marriage is about. Yup, that's what marriage is all about until your DH makes the finals (to be held smack in the middle of MY trip) of some stupid cowboy thing. Then marriage becomes all about making sacrifices and my Disney vacation headed straight for the funeral pyre. I could probably have forced Scott to go to Disney, but he would hate it. I could have been all noble and supportive and gone to his cowboy thing, but I would hate that. Scott is the only thing that I find even remotely attractive about cowboying. I can't for the life of me imagine why anyone would voluntarily spend their weekends breathing in dried cow manure and peeing in a horse trailer. For about a week I settled on a course of serious pouting. I lurked all over the DIS boards reading up on all of the fun everyone else was having (Hi, my name is Jennifer and I'm a trip report-aholic.) and noticed that some of these people were actually going to Disney alone. Alone, solo, unaccompanied, all by their lonesome. How crazy is that? Who goes on vacation by themselves? I thought about the Windex, the clubbin, the horse trailer/toilet and decided that I did.
To say my family took my news badly would be an understatement. Lizzie, the consummate social butterfly, thought it was just sad. Scott was worried about the car and my safety. My mother out-an-out forbade me to go. Sam was the only one without an opinion. Too busy keeping his own backside out of hot water is my guess. I decided not to worry about it because:
1.Lizzie will pity me no matter what I do.
2. I don't think that a man who regularly climbs up onto 750 lbs of heaving, over-excited horseflesh in order to chase wild cows around an arena has any business talking about safety to anyone.
3.In the immortal words of Ariel, I'm not a child anymore. I'm 45 years old, so there!
