Teenage Girls

     There I was, being a good little mother, minding my own business, when all of a sudden all of my children decided that they wanted to be teenage girls. If you have a teenage girl, you already feel sorry for me. If you don’t, let me explain what the past week in our household has looked like.

The Indecisive Child:

Cameron (the 9-year-old)- “I want to play with play dough.”

Me- “Go ahead.”

C- “Ugh….. but I don’t really WANT to play with play dough… UGH!!!” (This was followed by 45 minutes of tears. I kid you not, my child sobbed when given his way.)

The Mood Swing Child:

Taylor (the 7-year-old)- “Thanks for having us do homework over the summer, Mom! I don’t wanna forget everything I’ve learned before 2nd grade even starts!”

(2 minutes later) “I forgot how to add. I FORGOT HOW TO ADD!!!” (Let the tears begin.)

(5 minutes later) “Oh, nevermind, I remember! Ha!” (Smiles of pride replace the tears.)

(3 minutes later) “I forgot it AGAIN!!!” (Tears resume.)

The Entitled Child:

C- “I think you should give me $10 every time I do yard work for you.”

Me- “Nice try. It’s called being part of a family. We work for free around here.”

C- “That’s not even fair!”

Me- “I think you should give me $10 every time I do your laundry. And cook you dinner. And flush the toilet for you. THAT would be fair.”

C- “You guys never give me anything!”

Me- “Shelter… food… clothes… swim lessons… any of these ringing a bell?”

C- “But I want money to buy things!”

Me- “So do I! Either get a job or get a more grateful heart, child, but either way, you’d better get out of arms reach if you’d like to continue living here rent-free.”

The Screaming Child:

Wyatt (14-months-old)-  Frustrated by his inability to articulate his needs, and the fact that he has FOUR TEETH COMING IN (including a molar), he has taken to screaming. Screaming during the day, screaming during the night, screaming when his screaming becomes too laborious for him, screaming when he’s bored…. He even screamed when I refused to let him stab me with a pen. Not kidding.

And the higher the pitch, the more delight he seems to get out of his new hobby. It’s awesome.

The Rude Child:

C- “Why don’t you EVER take us anywhere cool? You’re not any fun.”

Me- “Well, I thought the circus was fun… and the pool. And the amusement park, VBS, the library program, hiking, the park, out to eat….”

C- “McDonald’s is NOT out to eat.”

Me- “I’m sorry that McDonald’s is so beneath you. Your advanced pallet of hot dogs and ramen noodles obviously has you spoiled. Well, we certainly won’t be going there anymore if you can’t show a little appreciation for the things that we do. I’m sorry I can’t entertain you every second of every day, but you’re old enough to use your imagination and be creative. You can play and do some things on your own while I do work.”

T- “It’s not OUR fault you have to work though….” (Said with such attitude!)

And that’s when I took away all electronics, made them put on play clothes, and banished them outside. I told them they could come in when they were no longer teenage girls. They looked at me in confusion. I locked the door behind them.

And they tell me I’m not fun!

The Dramatic Child:

Isaac (2-year-old)- “I want a yogret.”

Me: “Ok, you can have a yogurt in a minute. Let me finish putting the dishes away, ok?”

 I-“I want a yogret now!!”

 Me: “Honey, hold on. Mama’s almost done.”

 I-throws himself down into a prone position, screams into the floor, kicks his legs, cries hysterically, spits all over the floor and rubs his face through it.

T- “Isaac, you wanna come play with the trains?”

I-“Yeah!!!” (Jumps up as if nothing’s happened.)

The Utter Ridiculous Child:

T- “Mom, please take me to the park to ride my bike!!”

Me- “Taylor, there are a lot of hills and it’s almost dark. We’d have to rush the entire time without any stops or they’ll shut the gates on us and we won’t be able to get back out. And you always need breaks, remember?”

T- “No I don’t, Mommy, please! I really, really, really want to ride my bike on the smooth roads!”

     I finally agreed because I wanted to get some exercise anyways. We arrived at the park and were a total of 30 feet into our 2.5 mile walk/bike ride.

T- “Mom, I HATE this! (sobs) I want to quit! (gasps) Will you push my bike and hold my helmet? (flops to ground in “agony”) PLEASE, Mom, I really, really, really want to go back home!”

Me- “Toughen up, cupcake. It’s gonna be a long ride.”

She sobbed for exactly 2.5 miles.

      My husband wants to send them all to the gynecologist to have their ovaries removed because he fears their menstrual cycles have all synced up. And I, the only one with actual working ovaries, am in full agreement. God help us if this summer doesn’t end quickly because these children… they’re flipping nuts.

     I feel the need to say that I love them… but those of you with adolescent girls already know that this is not a necessary clarification, so I’ll just let it go. Bless you, parents of teenagers. Bless you for your patience. Bless you for your strength to not smother them in their sleep. Just… bless you.

The 4th Of July In All It's Crazy Glory

            Holidays in our house are bonkers with a capital ‘B’. If you have a child, you’re nodding your head in agreement. If you have more than one child, you are still shaking from the amounts of coffee you drank to keep yourself standing until bedtime tonight. And if you have children with any sort of mental health diagnosis, you are most likely sitting in a corner coloring on the wall with markers and putting Cheerios up your nose. I know this because you have just endured a weekend of so much crazy that your brain has simply gone on vacation.

          Bubye, See ya later, Ciao.

          I, too, have regressed back to childhood for the day and have quite literally lost the will to go on as an adult. It was, in a nutshell, one of the craziest weekends of my life. There was no prep work needed like for Christmas or birthdays, there was no traveling out of state, no packing and unpacking of luggage. So why was this weekend so Bonkers (remember, capital ‘B’)? Because holidays, no matter what they entail, cause the people in my house to feel BIG feelings and act on these big feelings with all their might.

          There’s heightened anticipation, unrealistic expectations, always wanting more, More, MORE, struggles to cope with schedule changes, and, oh, let’s not forget about the sugar - the copious amounts of sugar and caffeinated beverages that are poured onto our children and their fragile little nervous systems from morning till night, keeping them up for hours past bedtime. Not that they would be able to sleep anyways, since fireworks are a nightly ritual for the entire 4th of July weekend apparently.

          My kids, for as far as they’ve come, they still have such a hard time just relaxing and having fun. The husband and I have answered no fewer than 50,000 questions this weekend. Questions about times, activities, who will be there, how do we get there, what will we eat, will it be time for bed when we get home, will they be allowed juice for the day, will the other kids like them, how long will the fireworks last, will the fireworks be loud, will bugs crawl on the blanket while we’re watching the fireworks, will we there be time to play the tablet when we get home, will we hold their coats/sweatshirts/sunglasses/flags/water bottles/shoes/bubbles/headbands/corndogs/napkins, etc., etc., etc.!

          Here’s an idea, kids. Pull your bottom lips up over the top of your heads and then swallow. For the love of all that is good and holy, can we just relax and have fun like all the other children? The adults will be the adults and we will take care of all the things that need attending to. All you have to do is play!

          Anyone else’s children end up in tears when they’re given money to spend at the Festival? If your kids are extra crunchy like mine, the answer is yes. Because they want to spend every last cent, but they can’t find anything worthy of using the money on, yet they want ALL the things they see. Even when the lovely booth owners bartered with my children, lowering the prices to a more affordable 7- and 9-year old range, my kids STILL walked away shaking their heads in disappointment - the stress of spending money simply too great for them.

          And then there’s the toddler. Dear, sweet Jesus. It was as if the Tantrum Monster had bitten him while he slept and turned my precious little boy into the Incredible Hulk, wreaking havoc and destruction on the world around him. He ran into people, jumped on expensive furniture, threw toys, dumped food all over, chucked rocks, hit, kicked, screamed, threw himself down, and all-out defied every little rule set before him. He was a human wrecking ball.

          So many fits, so few naps.

          I may have lost my mind and yelled a little this weekend. (Like what I did there? I made it sound like that was something out of the norm, and that yelling was all I did. Smooth, huh?) What I mean to say is, I DID lose my mind and I screamed, smacked, barked, and stomped my feet in all our rage this weekend. At all of them. And then, I scared them. I stood there and just started to cry. All these eyes just looked at me. They had expected groundings and executions, not befuddled tears and heaving sobs.

          I cried because I just couldn’t do holidays anymore. I couldn’t do tantrums, I couldn’t do repeating myself a trillion times, I couldn’t do reminders to flush toilets or change underwear daily or pick up their toys. I couldn’t do good Mommy things but I also couldn’t do mean Mommy things. I just couldn’t do ANY thing else but cry.

         It’s the worst feeling because I hate yelling at them. I hate scolding and feeling like I’m constantly showing them all the things they do wrong when I just want to be a normal family, enjoying a festive occasion, laughing and smiling and hugging and NOT doing all the crying.

          But I cry because I know they can’t help it, really. I know little man is acting out because he sees all sorts of things he shouldn’t during the time he’s away from us and he feels all sorts of things he shouldn’t – rejection and abandonment that we have to leave him after each visit, separation anxiety even when we leave the room to go to the bathroom, fear that every time we get in the car he has to go back, stress over sleeping and missing out on the limited time he has with us before he returns to his biological dad.

          How can you scold that and feel good about yourself? Especially when each tantrum is followed up by a sloppy kiss and an, “Aw, I just love you, Mama!” seconds after he hits you?

          Guys, this is why I’m crazy.  I told you, markers and Cheerios, in the corner. The roller coaster of emotions from all those small people and all those missed naps… The poor baby, he just road along in a stroller, tried to grab at the fireworks in the sky, and chewed (then promptly spit out) all the new foods I put in front of him this weekend. But his tiny little face was just the poster of the napless child… he looked confused and exhausted and ready to collapse the entire weekend. He just wanted his normal Mama time, complete with cuddles and rocking and playing with toys, doing his puzzles, and reading his books. In fact, he gave me I Love You, Stinky Face to read 4 times in a row… that means nothing to you, I know, but to me, it means he needed a break from chaos. It’s his markers and Cheerios.

          So after a late night of fireworks anticipation, fear of fireworks, and disappointment that fireworks were not all they had hoped for and more, I decided to let everyone sleep in. Obviously that meant that the littles were up at 6am. (Score.) The morning was filled with kisses and hugs and sweet, gentle words… until it was time to get ready to bring my toddler back home. And then came the hitting. Naturally, the screaming and throwing followed. I literally had to chase him through the yard while holding baby and slipping in the wet grass, just to get him into the mini-van. (Don’t worry, my neighbors know about the Bonkers thing already.)

          We drove him home. He kept asking me to turn around and go back to my house. He asked if we could run away. He said please. He meant it.

          As we pulled into his driveway, the tears began to flow freely from all of the kids. Isaac clung to me as his dad told him to stop being a baby. I set him down and he clawed my legs trying to keep his grasp, screaming until he could no longer breathe. I kissed him, told him I loved him, and reminded him that we’d see him soon. I tried not to look back as I walked away, but he was throwing his whole little body onto the screen door and screaming my name.

          It was more than I could handle. I turned and blew him a kiss as I choked on all the emotions that I was trying to keep from pouring out of my eyes. I wanted him to see me be brave. I wanted my other kids to see me be brave. I wanted to believe that I could be brave. I got in the car and a song came on the radio that brought the tears that I fought to keep in. I drove from the house and turned up the music to stop the screams from following me. And once my eyes were mostly dry, I let my gaze slip to the rearview mirror. My oldest’s eyes met mine.

          He gave me a knowing smile and nodded his head.

          My kids… they aren’t great for holidays. But they know. They feel the big feelings, too. They’re there to nod their heads and smile when they see bravery crumbling. They may not know how to meet new kids on the playground, but they help the little ones climb the stairs to the slide and chase a stray one that makes a run for the road. They get clingy and ask a billion questions and have unrealistic expectations, but they love.

All of us at the morning picnic... Isaac, naturally, wearing Sissy's sparkly shoes. 

Taylor and Wyatt watching the runners for the 10K.

Face-painting... some of us sat better for the make-up artist than others.

The Littles and Big Sissy

Enjoying some time on the historic train car

My little Beauty and her butterfly

Little Man enjoying his first gyro and trying to stay awake.

Chubby legs and electronics... whatever helps you unwind.

Happy 4th of July, everyone.

A Kitchen Set and Jesus

     Some might say that I’ve always been rather…particular. And they wouldn’t be wrong. I like to do things a certain way, to keep things organized and clean. When I married my hairy Italian, I noticed that he does not have a certain way of doing things - there is no compulsion to clean or organize. To be frank, he is Clutter and Crumbs on two legs. For many years, the very sight of sandwich crumbs on the counter would send me over the edge.

     And then we had kids.

     Now, I find myself living with Clutter and Crumbs, Breaks-A-Lot, Queen Dirty Clothes, Captain Chaos, and Sir Chucks-Everything. Do you want to know what I found on my kitchen counter the other day? No, not sandwich crumbs. Poop. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. I don’t know who. But someone put a quarter size poop chunk next to my sink. It looked like chocolate. (I didn’t taste it, against all impulses begging me to lick it up before someone else claimed it!)

     Not only is their poop on my counter, but there’s mud on my walls (every wall, to be exact), matchbox cars scattered across all the floors, crumbs, crusted/sour milk spills, boogers, jelly, ink, toothpaste, urine, sand from the sandbox, and a plethora of unidentified stains and crunchies giving our furniture the “textured” look you see on ceilings or on 1970’s wallpaper.

     Let me tell you, if sandwich crumbs set me on edge, do you have any idea what stepping in urine while wearing socks does to a particular person like myself? I have literally found myself shaking with frustration. Shaking. Sometimes there are no words that will come out. Just tremors and some dampness around my eyes.

     I wonder if this is how Jesus felt when he realized he’d chosen 12 rather flawed individuals to surround himself with for the duration of his ministry? I wonder if Simon Peter left the fish bones all over the boat floor, or if John pulled the same dirty robe out of his hamper each day to wear to the synagogue? Judas could’ve been breaking everything while James ran amok and Thomas just sat in the corner throwing everything he could get his hands on.

     Ok, so maybe their flaws were a bit different… but I’m guessing Jesus got pretty miffed at them for their ridiculous doubting and lying and cheating and questioning. I wonder, did Christ get to the point where he shook like me? In his human state and in an attempt not to smack them upside their heads, did he shake with frustration?

     Guys, these are the questions I have for my Lord when I get to Heaven. That, and why does poop have to look so much like chocolate…. You know, the deep things.

     Anyways, because these kids are practically giving me seizures these days, I’ve had to find some coping strategies to help me continue that strive for sanity:

1)      I organize the toy bins after everyone goes to sleep. Why? Who the heck knows. The bins will be in disarray the second little feet hit the floors in the morning, but I seem to rest better knowing that the bins are, for the moment, sorted.

2)      I throw their things into the yard. Why? Because I’m passive aggressive and Jesus hasn’t taken this particular wheel yet. And because it feels amazing. If you’ve been asked to clean it and don’t, then it is up to you to find it on our 40-acres come daylight. I don’t truly care which way this one falls most days, but throwing things is great therapy….. Oh my gosh, I just realized. The baby gets it from me! (Mind. Blown.)

3)      I clean the kitchen set and organize it like a real kitchen. Why? Because cleaning is my therapy. (No, I am not playing, I am coping!) And because it’s the only kitchen that I can manage to keep clean these days! So, I put all the non-perishable items in the shopping cart, the perishable items (plastic perishables??) in the bin like it’s a deep freezer, and the beverages and condiments go in the fridge.

But yesterday I opened the refrigerator door (the fake refrigerator door) and found a cell phone (a fake cell phone) and I literally bellowed, “Who in the WORLD puts a cell phone in the fridge??” before realizing that I had completely lost my marbles.

Moving on… I then organize the plates (stacking them in size order), cups, bowls, and silverware. I rearrange the tea pot, coffee pot, skillets, and pot holders. And then, for the final step, I pick out food items that would go together in a casserole or roast and put them in the slow cooker on the stove.

 I don’t know why. But it makes me happy.

I wonder if Jesus had a kitchen set to help him unwind?

 Another question for the Big Guy.

Life's A Circus

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     Yesterday was Father's Day. And as usual, we had no idea what to give my husband. The kids and I had racked our brains the entire week trying to figure out a good gift - something that would be thoughtful, useful, handy, funny, wanted. New dress shoes? Practical, yes, but not very desirable for the man that would rather wear a ratty t-shirt and cut up firewood in his spare time. A new ax? Desirable, yes, but he probably has at least 12 other axes lying around in the garage... and I don't know the first thing about ax purchases. Is there an ax store? Do they have more than one kind or can you just walk in and ask where they keep the ax? I don't know (I don't care). 

     We decided that it would be best (even if it lacked a little creativity on our end) to let Dad pick out his own gift. So he thoughtfully bought himself a new hard drive for his computer. (Why didn't I think of that? Um... because no one would.... ever.) He picked his own gift and we got to pick the activity we thought would best celebrate his special day.

     We chose the circus.

     When I broke the news to my husband, I think he thought I was kidding. He giggled and then asked, "Wait, are you serious?" I'm betting that visions of the two of us trying to keep the toddler from being eaten by a lion, the baby from chucking his cuppy at the row in front of us, and the older two from literally trying to join the circus... I'm sure these thoughts ran through his mind at least once before he agreed to the adventure. But for good measure, we invited his mom for reinforcement.

     We arrived at the circus and saw a sad looking tent surrounded by a few llamas, some skinny ponies, and an annoyed looking camel. There was one snack stand, two port-a-johns, and an even smaller tent where three tiny horses were hooked up to a metal spokes system, giving children rides. 

     Swell. The kids have never been to the circus before and I had talked it up as if we were going to see the Ringling Brothers.  It was apparent that I had spoken too soon. There would be no tigers, no rings of fire, no tight rope walkers. There would be an emaciated petting zoo and stinky toilets. 

     For this, we paid $45 and two babies missed their naps.

     Since we were already there, we tried to make the best of it. After all, it was only 300 degrees (in the shade) and all the attendees looked to be carnies, themselves. We made our way through the sea of bearded women and toothless men, over to the "petting zoo". I use this term loosely because the skinny animals did not seem to enjoy the whole "petting" part of the experience. Apparently the hungry little suckers thought that my kids’ fingers and limbs were carrots. At first, the toddler cried, stating that the horsey had bit him. Like any good mom, I assumed he was exaggerating. Surely the horse had licked him or given him a little nibble. A horsey kiss, perhaps.  

     But then, I watched (and photographed) as my youngest stood there, minding his own business while a particularly famished-looking pony attempted to eat him, starting with his fingers. My baby started to scream. I started to panic. I gave a gentle tug to see if I could get his finger loose, but no such luck. I didn’t know what else to do. So, I slapped the pony. I was just getting ready to give him a firm upper-cut when he finally released my child’s fingers.

     For the record, I will literally beat up any animal that tries to eat my children. Just in case anyone asks.

     I grabbed my children and we began to flee the petting zoo. And that’s when the camel turned and spit all over us. Apparently he was ticked off that I’d slapped his friend. Never in my life did I want to drop kick an entire lot of animals like I did in that moment. I dared the camel to take one step closer as I mentally threatened to turn him into a camel-burger. (Please don’t call PETA on me…. I’m the nice one here. These animals were jerks.)

     Next, we decided to make our way to the pony rides. (I know, right?) These guys looked less hungry and much more in control of themselves. So, we watched as our children awkwardly rode atop the slowest moving ponies that I’d ever seen. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe they’d lost their will to go on. Either way, my kids smiled and we took pictures.

     No sooner had the small people begun to pester me for money to jump in the bouncy house when it suddenly deflated. Parents ran to rescue their children from the collapsed vinyl as toddlers sobbed in fear. Yeah…. No.

     Finally, it was show time. We made our way into the Little Top tent and found seats near the front (which wasn’t hard to do, as all the seats were near the front…. It was a really, really Little Top). There we sat, huddled together on mud-covered bleachers with about a hundred other sweaty people and their equally sweaty children, not a breeze to be had beneath the shelter of the tent. We fanned the young ones with Father’s Day cards and poured water over all their heads as we awaited what would be the worst circus in circus history.

     And then, all of our dreams came true.

     The music began to thump. The ringleader began to announce. Jugglers juggled. Contortionists contorted. Acrobats acrobatted. Magicians did magic! There were stunts, clowns, incredible tricks, and death-defying acts (not kidding!). Even the camel and llamas made an appearance. But I didn’t clap for them. I was still bitter.

     For nearly two hours, four children and three adults sat enthralled with the show. At intermission, we attacked the snow-cone guy, shoveling the shaved ice into our mouths as fast as we could manage. But neither the heat nor the vexatious animals could spoil our fun.

     The circus was haphazard. It was unexpected. Unconventional. Amazing. It was just like our family. Now that I think about it, there could be no better way to spend Father’s Day. 

10 Reasons You Should Take Your Kids to an Amusement Park This Summer

          When weighing the pros and cons of yet another costly summer activity, we as adults tend to focus on the mature things.

          How much is this gonna cost? Can I get the time off work? Is it educational for the kids? Will this provide too much structure, not enough structure, build relationships, promote independence, increase physical exercise, allow for creativity, encourage teamwork, stimulate without over-stimulating, etc., etc., etc.

            But, what if we were to take a minute and allow ourselves to be immature…. Just for a moment. If we were to look deep down into the darkest crevices of our souls, we’d all come to the same conclusion.

            Amusement parks are for adults, not kids.

            Don’t believe me? Take a look at my top 10 reasons why YOU should go to an amusement park this summer and tell me this doesn’t sound like perfection?

10) Mandated weight loss-

Over this past weekend, my husband and I took our family to Kennywood, our local Pittsburgh amusement park. After realizing it would be nuts to wrangle 4 kids alone, we invited two more. And then we recruited husband’s mother and brother for help so that we returned home with the same number of kids that we left with. Not only did we sweat profusely in the 95 degree weather, but we walked a total of 9 miles each throughout the course of our 8-hour day.

We know this because 1) or clothes were drenched well before we ever hit the first water ride, and 2) my husband kept track of our steps with the handy-dandy step tracker on his iphone. Add in pushing two strollers loaded up with supplies, diaper bags, water bottles, umbrellas, towels, snacks, and two large toddlers, and I’m pretty sure we burned at least 73,000 calories each.

Pretty sure.

9) Delayed gratification-

We all want our kids to let go of the “Microwave Mentality”, don’t we? Many of the best things in life require time, energy, diligence. Very few things of worth are just granted to us with a simple push of a button on a tablet or by sending a text. What better way to teach our kids the importance of delayed gratification than having them stand in an amusement park line?

Want to buy a ticket? Get in line. Need a frozen lemonade? Take a number. Have to ride the fastest roller coaster in the park? That’ll be an hour…

at least.

Your child will walk away from this experience far more patient than they came. Either that or they will realize that some things are worth the wait while other things can be skipped without the world coming to a crashing halt. Either way, you win.

8) The Law of Natural Consequences-

Another fantastic lesson that an amusement park will teach your children for you is to listen to their mother.

How many times, Moms, do we say the same things over and over ad nauseum, only to be ignored? Let your local thrill joint take the pressure off. Say it once and let the Law of Natural Consequences take over.

Wear comfortable shoes, not pretty ones. Pee now because we won’t be hiking to another bathroom in 10 minutes for you. Carry your water bottle with you at all times. Space out the spinny rides!

Any of these sound familiar? If you’re anything like me, you’ve said these things a million times on a million different trips and your children continue to think you’re joking or something. But amusement parks are a great place to (pardon the overused phrase) let it go. Say it once and move on, Mamas. Blisters? Exploding bladders? Thirsty? Going to puke? Tell it to the Ticketmaster, kiddos, because Mama can’t hear you over the noise of the coasters, music, and the joy of natural consequences screaming “I told you so!”

7) You will feel better about your parenting-

This will happen, not because you’ve done such a remarkable job throughout those long winter months, but because of probablity. Statistically speaking, the odds of your child being the worst kid at the park are far less than when you make your usual Walmart run. In a sea of thousands of children, there’s even a decent chance that your kid will come out looking like an honorary saint, even after he races from his seat on the ride and pushes the big, red start button with his chubby little hand. Sure, the staff will scream and parents will run to save their children from impending doom….

But in 10 minutes, some other knuckleheaded child will do something even dumber, leaving you to look like an amazing parent. (Despite the 5 minute tantrum your child threw after being removed from the ride for his unsavory actions…. True story.)

6) Your children will grow closer to God-

Want your son or daughter to be more God-fearing? Let them face the possibility of death as they mount that first roller coaster hill. The “I’m gonna die!” and “Oh, dear GOD!!” phrases will pour forth like wild fire from their little lips. Prayers and promises to never lie again should all be recorded, so keep your phones handy on all rides.

5) Positive peer pressure-

Do you have a particularly wussy kid? Yeah, me too. Amusement parks allow a parent to let peer pressure work in their favor for once. Naturally there will always be those thrill-seekers that want to ride the biggest coaster- no screaming, eyes open, arms in the air. Will they poke fun at your weakling for peeing their pants a little while waiting in line? May they throw out names like “Sissy” and “Nancy Pants” to your kid? Is there a possibility that your child will ride the scariest coaster on the planet (or the Tilt-o-Whirl, whatever) and still come off hating coasters? Yep.

But there’s also the possibility that your wimpy child may face his fears and find that they actually like the ride! Even more possible is that they will enjoy telling everyone for the next 3 years about the time that they rode the biggest coaster in the world and how they lived to tell about it. War stories aren’t just for veterans, people.

4) Your kids will finally understand what your pregnancy was like-

When your precious little monster acts like a colossal brat, the first thing you want to tell them is just how long you carried them in your womb, what they did to your body, how you never ever slept again, and that you brought them into this world and have no problem taking them right back out! Mamas, let me introduce you to the world of Spinny Rides. Send your little nugget of joy on three spinnies in a row. (Just three now, no need to hospitalize the kid or anything.) And as they begin to turn green, ask them to remember this moment.

Remember the nausea, remember the dizziness, remember the need to lie down and close your eyes to stop the world from spinning. Feel like you’re going to die, sweetheart? Well, THAT is what I went through for 9 month!. Remember THAT the next time you want to throw a tantrum in the middle of Applebees, darling.

They will have a new appreciation for the sacrifice that you made for them. They may even rise up and call you blessed.

3) Teach them the value of money-

How many times do you walk through the store and get pestered incessantly about making extra purchases? You’ve heard how they neeeeeed Twinkies for their lunch boxes and how they have to have the Timberlands just like everyone else in their class. I can solve this problem for you within the first 20 minutes of being at the park. Tell your children that all of their meals and drinks have been packed for them because you are, in fact, a loving and organized mother.

And then tell them that you’ve brought their weekly allowance for them to use in the park if they feel they have to have extras. And then lay the final blow. Repeat these words verbatim to your children.

I have left my wallet and all monetary devices in the car.

There will definitely be gasps. There will probably be fainting. Some may require use of their inhalers. Do not panic. The over-priced snacks and ridiculously expensive arcades will be all your child needs to remind them that no one has ever, in fact, neeeeded a Twinky.

2) You’re allowed to laugh at your kids-

Oh, but I could never!

Yes. Yes you can. When your child is rubber-necking and taking it all in, causing him to walk straight into a large woman with bountiful cleavage, you most certainly are allowed to laugh. When your daughter death grips your arm on a KiddieLand roller coaster, you will and must laugh. When your toddler is rendered immobile as Dumbo flies from 1 foot off the ground to 2, you will giggle as tears stream down your face. Hey, you may even find yourself rocking the Ferris wheel cage a little, just to give yourself one more chuckle at your child’s expense before calling it a day.

1) They will sleep like logs-

There is literally nothing like a day of terror and over-stimulation to knock out even the biggest insomniac. After crashing from sugar rushes, coming off of coaster highs, and walking half a marathon, it is likely that your son or daughter will sleep the following morning away. You may feel the urge to check on them, just to make sure they’re fine. But trust me, Mama…. They’re good. They’re more than good. Because they got to spend an entire day with you – laughing, learning valuable lessons, and getting in some quality family time. Let this peaceful moment wash over you before they wake up and find something to complain about.

Why should you go to an amusement park this summer? Because You need to. There’s gonna be screaming and laughing and messes and lost sunglasses/hats/keys/phones. There will be junk food and incorrect head counts, chaos and missed naptimes. And it will be the best memory you have for years to come.