Busch Gardens Part 2

In honor of my dear friend, Marissa, on her birthday... I figured I should finally finish our Busch Gardens Story. If you haven't read part 1... I'll give you a few moments to catch up.

So now that you are caught up on the first hour of our infamous Busch Gardens trip... let's continue. I've successfully navigated the tourists, fountains, mascots and unruly children in Elmo's world... and managed to give myself a rather compelling pep talk.

"You've already made it through a screaming, hour long car ride, waited in 20 min. lines and wrestled your 2 year old back into her stroller. You're sweating like a pig and wearing uncomfortably tight jeans which, at this point, you can do absolutely nothing about. You can't waver now! Just go with. It really can't get much worse." I tell myself, trying not to appear panicky to my calm, cool and collected friend.

Marissa decides to take her kids to ride the Lochness Monster as I sit down to feed mine. I regather my senses after a few minutes, put the kids back in the stroller and get the heck out of Elmo's World.
Reaghan and I catch up with Marissa as she's waiting for her oldest kids, Byron and Jaelyn, to get off the roller coaster.

At some point, Marissa decides to come with me to take Evangeline and Paxton on the swings which is totally across the park in another country (each section of the amusement park is named after a European country). Reaghan offers to stay at the exit of the Lochness Monster and wait for the older kids as we made our way out of Scotland and through most of Europe in search of the kiddy swings.

So off we go, pushing our strollers side by side through the crowded paths in the mid-august heat. In true mommy fashion we jump straight into some deep life issues. You see, busy moms rarely have a minute to think, let alone talk, so we must seize and utilize every conversation-worthy moment.

"I just don't know what to do." she says to me, over the crowds.

(Evangeline let's out a blood curdling scream, just for fun)

"Well, I know it isn't easy... but you just have to be genuine and loving." I yell back to her with my last breath as I push my rickety, double stroller up the cobble stone path.

We pick up the speed as Evangeline and Paxton start screaming in unison, but don't miss a beat in our conversation. I can't remember the specifics of our conversation, but I do remember throwing out terms like 'that's what Jesus would do', 'fear of man' and random scripture references as we're bulldozing through Italy with our tantrum filled strollers.

We finally make it to the long awaited swings... which Paxton refuses to ride. Then we venture over to the airplanes with our two little rebels (p.s. Baby Brotha is still sitting angelically on his side of the stroller... blessed child of mine).
For heaven's sake... Marissa and I really just want to get a picture of the two kids on a ride together, but they refuse to cooperate as Evangeline panics last minute and has to get off the airplanes.
So here we are... Marissa at the airplanes and me at the swings. It's funny how so many moms go through painstaking efforts to do things together, yet still spend most of the time alone. I'm sure we both noticed the irony as we casually waved from our individual locations.

We finally decided to head back to Elmos' world since we hadn't heard from Reaghan and the older kids yet. As we're crossing the bridge back to Italy, Marissa gets 'the call'. I could see that she didn't recognize the number, but she went ahead and answered anyway. I could see slight panic mixed with nausea as she tried to listen, but just then Doodle decided to pitch a fit.

"Umm... where are you?" the stranger on the other line asks.

"Who is this?" poor Marissa asks, trying to mask her confusion.

"Uh... I have your kids." says the woman, they've been scared to death, running around the park looking for you.

I could see Marissa's heart hit the floor right as Doodle took her tantrum up an octave.

Marissa tried to stay calm as she thanked the lady for caring for her kids and arranged a place to meet. We called Reaghan, who was a nervous wreck herself, and made sure we were all on the same page. As we raced back through Italy, once again, I can just see my dear friend's blood pressure rising (it's totally hereditary). Her New York accent thickened as she went through every possible scenario of "What were they thinking?!"... "How long have my kids been wondering around Europe?!" "That lady must think I've lost my mind... as well as my kids."

We reunited with the kids... and Reaghan. After warm hugs and stern warnings, Marissa turns to me... "O.K. Where to next?"

"Next?!" I think.

 If it were up to me, I think a brief stop by Starbucks on the way to the nearest Psychiatric Institute would be the safest bet. But my dear friend was determined to stick it out in the august heat for a few more hours.

I tried to keep up with her. But it was no use. I lost all hope when nap time was suddenly upon us and Evangeline made me wait in line for the balloons only to throw a complete fit once the ride started. I quickly grab my child, while apologizing to the crowd who had now gathered to watch our spectacle. Then as we're walking off she has another meltdown begging to go back on the balloons.

After repeating this processes a few times, I decided to put my foot down. It's time to go home. I quickly bought Evangeline an over-priced 'Big-a-Bird' stuffed animal to commemorate this festive occasion, gave my friend a hug and wished her luck. She skipped off into the French Riviera with her naturally curly hair, cute kids and adorable, breezy skirt... while I trudged back to my car with my ill fitting jeans chaffing my inner thighs.

So this sums up our summer trip to Busch Gardens.... I'm glad I went, but I need about another year to regain my strength and motivation for the next time.

Note to Self: I know you hate buying super large shorts when you don't think you'll get much use out of them... but for heaven's sake... the chaffing... it just isn't worth it.