20 days till Christmas...7 days till "Cousin's Christmas" which I volunteered to host...a television to run electrical to and mount above a fireplace...cookies to bake....presents to shop for...might as well go to Kalahari for the weekend.
A month ago, friends of ours asked if we were interested in sharing a suite at this indoor water park for a night and we knew the girls would love it, so we agreed.
Saturday morning, Scott got an oil change in his car, ran to Home Depot for electrical boxes and to Dick's for a new swim suit, because for some reason he didn't want to wear his triathlon Speedo around the park.
Meanwhile, I packed suitcases, cleaned up the house (although my dog-sitting brother could probably argue on the cleanliness factor), grabbed snacks from Walgreens and bought a Christmas tree.
Yes...bought a Christmas tree. I have to get that thing in the house by Wednesday to have it decorated in time.
So we managed to get on the road by 1:30 and Kalahari is about an hour away.
I had forgotten the girls' flip flops, so I forced them to put their shoes on with their bathing suits, because we had what felt like a mile walk to the actual water park portion of the hotel, including passing through a major Chuck E Cheese-type game area. Of course Morgan wasted no time pointing out all the other people walking through the hotel barefoot. I throw up a little in my mouth just thinking about that.
And I don't know why I was also so disturbed about the number of people walking through the hotel in nothing but a wet bathing suit, when on the other side of the doorway everyone was walking around in wet bathing suits, but I was.
(1) The eight of us may have been the only people in all of Kalahari that didn't have a single tattoo.
(2) I apparently do not need to be so self-conscious of my slightly squishy tummy. (But I will keep it safely tucked inside my completely average full-piece tank swimsuit, thankyouverymuch.)
I was actually a little worried about my rudeness rage, which is only slightly less sensitive than my road rage. I thought for sure I would be at my strangling-point by at least an hour in, but it never even bubbled.
I don't know if it was because all the parents were slightly buzzed with alcohol (although I only saw one lady visibly drunk and it was when we went back down to the game room after dinner) or everyone was just happy to let life guards watch their kids for a few hours.
A note on the life guards: None of them looked any older than 16 and at least 50% of them looked like they had no desire to jump in and save someone, and I am trusting them with my life?
Either way, everyone pretty much kept to themselves so I have no good blog fodder. Damnit.
Oh, except that Jen and I scared the crap out of ourselves on the slides. We had let the guys take control of all four kids while we tried a slide on our own. We decided on the enclosed pair of slides where we would each take off from a separate one and come out somewhat together. But neither of us had considered how fast, or how dark it was.
I think if it had lasted any longer I might have had an actual panic attack. Yes, I am a wimp. (Did I ever tell you my skiing story?)
Otherwise...completely uneventful...in a good way. I highly recommend it.
See, Jen, I made it the whole blog without mentioning how many times you fell and/or dropped your baby!
Washing your Mouth out with Soap
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