Things I learned in California: Lesson 3

I'm married to Clark Griswold. The unrealistic expectations. The over-the-top plans.

Every night we had a version of this conversation when Brian got to the hotel room after work. Angie: What do you think we should do tonight? It's been a really long day for us. You know, we haven't been further than 3 feet away from each other all day. Plus they didn't nap and it's already their bedtime. What if we go to one of the Disney restaurants close by and then put the kids down early and we watch a movie? Brian: I was really wanting to check out Santa Monica Beach. They have a pier with carnival rides and it's supposed to be cool. Angie: You know that will take about an hour to get there and we'll probably hit traffic going through L.A. And it's getting cold outside. Brian: Ahh, we should do it. The kids will be fine!

We proceed to drive for 1.5 hours (while I hold my ears and go to my happy place because the kids are screaming and hungry) walk out on the chilly pier and look at the rides that are closed for the night.

 

When we were leaving Brian looked over the quarter mile of beach down to the water and said, "I've never walked on a beach at night, lets take the stroller down there." The cold wet wind hit my face and I watched him strain to push the double stroller 5 feet into the sand. I looked at how far he had to go and told him Clark, I mean Brian, turn the stroller around and come back to the car. It will take you all night to get to the water and the kids coughs are getting worse and Madison's eyes are frozen. I patted him on the back and promised him we'd see the beach at night another time.

The examples go on and on. Like another time when I tried to convince him that we should eat at the little diner out on the water instead of the nice Hawaiian restaurant on the beach with the valet service and people walking in wearing business clothes. But my Clarky wanted to try the Hawaiian food. I'm sure he had visions of us being serenaded by ukuleles, the children throwing their heads back in laughter as we fed each other food from our kabobs. Reality looked more like Madison throwing crayons at the table next to us, screaming from exhaustion, and covering herself with macaroni while I quietly played "I spy" with Silas and pretended I wasn't there.

But, when it was all said and done, we had some good laughs. And even though his thirst for adventure squelches all rational thought,
I love the man.