Griswalds Are Back | Final Chapter, I Promise

Everyone has their “issues”. I’ll go first. I am a little OCD when it comes to my house being tidy. I like pillows in the place, toys in baskets, laundry put away. I am also extremely afraid of heights. Like if I am dangling mid air I will literally panic. Not ‘Oh Golly, this is high’ but ‘Oh freaking’ #$%^& what the $%^&8 was I thinking?’.
Here’s an example. At the Colorado Springs Zoo I thought it would be a grand idea to purchase tickets for the ‘sky ride’ to the top of the mountain (it’s the only zoo in the US on a mountain). Knowing I was a little weary of heights, I assumed a children’s zoo would be safe, non-scary and I could conquer my fear appropriately and head on.
Wrong. So stinking wrong.
I realize now that true fear presents itself both psychologically and physically. As the ground got smaller, and smaller beneath my feet my hands began to sweat. How can I grasp the handle bar holding us in with sweaty palms? What if I accidentally slip out? What if Kenley, sitting beside me, slips out? I had to close my eyes and couldn’t look for fear I would freak and fall out of the tiny little ski lift. My armpits began sweating- I didn’t know I could soak a shirt so fast, my heart began beating rapidly, and I felt like I might just fall out of my body {and the lift}, plummeting to the grounds below.
Looking ahead at Mike, Britton and Britty’s new friend she made at the resort, they seemed to be riding comfortably at ease in their small, swaying ski lift. Do they realize they are swaying? 

Even Kenley, my child, was taking in the scenery and seemed perfectly at ease. Did she not realize how high up we were?

I had Britton’s new said friend’s grandmother in the lift with me and Kenley, and I was utterly embarrassed as she rambled on about the charities she volunteers for as I kept responding with “uh huh’s” and “oh really’s” all the while with my eyes tightly shut, unable to look beneath me.

We finally reached the top, sweaty striped shirt, light headed and all. Conquered fear. Check.

I all too quickly come to the realization that what goes up, must go….
oh crap.  Sweet husband, that doesn’t want to be widowed just yet, quickly begs the man operating the lift to find an alternate way down for his ‘wife that has a fear of heights’. At first the man tells me I have to ride the lift back down the mountain and there is no other way. Surely he is kidding? Mike finally convinces the nice man that, me riding down, is not an option.

Talk about embarrassing. The girls asked to ride down the lift with said sweet 70 year old grandmother, whose name now escapes me, while I waited 20 minutes for a golf cart to pick me and Mike up, and ride down the mountain, with wheels on the ground. I won’t bore you with the details of how I was also worried about riding a golf cart down a mountain.

Just when I am bumping along the winding road in the little golf cart, with my tail between my legs feeling sorry for my frightened little self, there is a boy, about 18 or so, in a wheelchair who was both physically and mentally disabled, getting his ride down the mountain with us as well (we were facing backwards). My little embarrassing pity party comes to an abrupt end reminding me, once again, to be thankful for my body that functions as it was designed, and for my mind- which functions, well, that is debatable.

I’ve come to the realization that some fears get progressively worse as we get older. Last time, about 17 years ago, I was on a ski lift it malfunctioned and I dangled in mid air for about 20 minutes until the operating got the contraption running again. While it was scary, I managed to stay calm during the wait. Thinking that I would only be better equipped mentally, I opted to climb aboard, once more, a stinkin’ ski lift. Obviously, the fear has grown exorbitantly.
Same with the cleaning thing. It used to be that things had to be in their place at night before I go to bed, and that was enough. It’s gone beyond that now to where everything has to not only be in its place (dirty dishes, laundry, couch pillows), but everything has to be clean as well (floors, counter tops, glass top tables, etc.). Its my way of controlling my environment when I feel like everything around me is out of control (my father’s death triggered this and and real life followed suit).  Classic psychology 101. The whole height thing? I am guessing it is because I have more at stake now with a family of my own, children that depend on me. Doesn’t look like I will be bungee jumping or sky diving any time soon. And Mike, you can forget scuba diving together.

But, we’re back safe and sound. We finished out the tour of the animals. With all the CO photos, I am beginning to feel a bit like the old man that invites friends over to see his slide show of vacation photos. I promise this is the last of it.

If only these Hippos had on pink tutus.

Mike did return to out little cabin on the mountain for a day of guided fly fishing. My outdoorsy husband had a blast and caught and released over 20 trout in the Winding River.  It’s like seeing a fast forward photo of Raynes in about 35 years.

And that’s all the slide show we have, folks.  Seeing that we essentially paid for two vacations in one week (the cabin plus the Broadmoor) it may be a while before the Robinson family packs up and heads out again. In the meantime, we will be filling back packs with new boxes of No. 2 pencils, wide Crayola markers and three ring binders for school which starts next week.

So long summer, you were good!


Lovely comments

  1. 1'Anonymous says

    OMGah! My palms started sweating just reading that. I cannot even watch heights in a movie without sweating. Ban thinks it is hilarious and would have prob made me go down the mountain. Then again, we both know I don’t fair well in golf carts either so the down the mountain route may have worked better for me. Hope y’all are having fun!