We now have family hangover and unfortunately, hubby has to work through it. The kids and I are sulking around the house, using our energy to stay positive and get what little accomplished that we can.
Family hangover, you ask? A hangover. Minus the alcohol. Same fatigue, same grogginess, same "wow-that-was-an-awesome-time-but-it-really-is-all-a-blur" feeling.
We do (fortunately) remember how we got home - and that was at 1 a.m. this morning after travelling back from Kings Island. The previous night was spent at a hotel, celebrating our son's birthday late into the evening with family after an emotionally-difficult day facing the illness of another family member on Sunday. We rode emotional roller-coasters followed by actual ones and have been left with a dizzy not-quite-there-yet after-effect.
It was beautiful day, a day of learning what an amusement park visit means on Family Time. We all had our moments. Towards the end of the day, we were almost ready to leave - prior to the park closing.
Certainly no one could have considered this a failure - the kids had hung in there, we had the chance to ride both kiddie rides and some adult ones, and the day had been full of fun and frivolity. But after one particularly stressful event, we decided to attempt a train ride (for a second time) that the birthday-boy wanted to do...and then call it a night.
We chose to stop fighting and just head the peaceful way. That truly made all of the difference. We stopped wondering if we should or shouldn't, raised our glasses to the evening, and just threw caution (and the possibility of a full night's sleep) to the wind. We all agree that the last hour or so was our favorite part of the day.
We chose to stop fighting lines, fighting to get things "accomplished", fighting to make sure we all found enjoyment, fighting to get everyone what they wanted or fighting to get just what one of us wanted. We had paced the entire day VERY slowly, yet we were still fighting - heat, fatigue, expectations.
We gave in...and let our hearts lead the way. We were rewarded.
We rode the train. Because we had nowhere else to be, we asked for a photo with the engineer after the ride. Not only was the birthday boy rewarded with a photo, but he got to climb up front AND ring the train bell six times.
We got ice cream. Because we had given up on trying to stay clean, we dribbled and delved into delectable deliciousness. (I was still frustrated at how quickly the ice cream was melting and how sticky everything was getting, but hey - can't let go of everything at once, eh?)
We leisurely strolled towards the park exit. Because we weren't in a rush to leave, we found a fascinating display of lights on the way out - set to alternate to music. The temps had cooled down and we strolled among a sensory buffet, watching automated flowers open and close, lights flicker, and the tower dance with color.
We allowed ourselves to get drunk.
We took in one experience after the other, releasing our minds from expectations, getting dizzy from sensual delights we imbibed.
We left after 10 p.m., kids falling asleep almost immediately, and pulled into our driveway at 1 a.m.
Yes, we are suffering from a hangover this morning. The kids go in and out of peacefulness and absolute break-downs. Hubby is suffering through the pain of standing all day at work, wanting nothing more than to sit or rest. I am doing all I can to not sleep through the day.
We will all rest well tonight, I'm sure. And after our rest, I plan for all of us to get drunk on life's offerings again as soon as possible.
You have to be always drunk.
That's all there is to it—it's the only way.
So as not to feel the horrible burden of time
that breaks your back
and bends you to the earth,
you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish.
But be drunk.
And if sometimes,
on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch,
in the mournful solitude of your room,
you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone,
ask the wind,
the wave, the star,
the bird, the clock,
everything that is flying,
everything that is groaning,
everything that is rolling,
everything that is singing,
everything that is speaking. . .
ask what time it is
and wind, wave,
clock will answer you:
"It is time to be drunk!
So as not to be the martyred slaves of time,
be drunk, be continually drunk!
On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."