We stayed at the Fairfield Inn. I felt claustrophobic the moment I stepped in our room, but I got used to it eventually. It boosted a "heated" pool. I was expecting it to be bath water temperature and thought they might have been lying about the heated part when the husband told me that this temperature was heated. Oh. At least the kids enjoyed it while I huddled by myself near the edge shivering to death.
I hated Disneyland. Nor was it my son's favorite place. Disneyland is so not the place for an autistic child who cannot bear dark rides and loud music/talking. However, when I asked him what his favorite part was, he said digging. We sat momentarily after a ride, and he played in the dirt. Oh, and that ride? It was those cars that you drive that is on rails. I let my son sit in the driver's seat so he could steer and I'd just control the pedal. Well, the second I stepped on the pedal, it was too loud for him so covered his ears and I had to steer from the passenger's seat. My arm, butt and leg was hurting after that one. Not fun.
On the Dumbo ride. He covered his face with his pink blanket throughout most of the rides. However, this ride frightened me, too, when we went in the air and I started getting thrown to the side.
I also waited in this one stupid line for 2 hours with my daughter to meet and talk with princesses. I thought we'd get to see a whole bunch of them. We saw 3! And not even the good ones like Sleeping Beauty or Cinderalla. We saw Jasmine, Pocahontas and Ariel. And I was so peeved by the time we got inside that I didn't think to change the settings on my camera and wound up with a bunch of stupid blurry pictures.
I was bitching to the husband about the California Adventure tickets because I didn't want to go there. But I actually liked it better than Disneyland. There were more rides to my son's liking, and the lines were much shorter. I complained a lot to my husband during the whole trip there. That man must have some pretty rock solid discipline to not have beat me while we were down there.
Wednesday morning we went to Newport Beach with his mom. And I think that's the last time I saw my keys. The husband threw a silent tantrum because I didn't pack his shorts in with the kids' stuff. So he sulked on the towel for the most part instead of just walking the 3 minutes back to the car to retrieve his shorts.
My kids had the greatest time splashing in the water...until it knocked both of them over and I had to run in and pull both off them up because Mr.-I-have-no-shorts-so-I'm-not-going-near-the-water wasn't down there with us. My daughter still continued to play in the water. But my son would yell, "NO!" every time I tried to bring him back closer. I'm hoping my keys didn't fall out when I went in the water. That would suck.
Right before being eaten by the ocean:
I thought we were headed back home, but as I fell asleep in the car, the husband nudged me awake and asked if I wanted to go to the Getty museum. Hell yeah! I love art! However, it's so not a place to go when you're accompanied by little ones with very little art appreciation.
I packed a change of clothes for the kids when we went to Disneyland. I packed a change of clothes for the kids when we went to California Adventure. I packed a change of clothes for the kids when we went to the beach. I didn't even touch them at those places. So I figured I wouldn't need a change of clothes at the museum. Guess where my son threw up? Sigh. It took about 45 minutes to hop back on the tram, trek back to the car, change him, back on the tram, figure out the map and find the rest of the family.
Most of my time at the museum was spent holding my son's sweaty little hand and fretting over him getting away and knocking over some 200 year old marble bust. The Getty Museum had gorgeous views and I would really like to go back there...sans kids.
Anyway, we're back and I have no idea where my keys are.
Update
Apparently, the troll must have taken my keys. I checked the red backpack when we got home. They weren't in there. I checked the red backpack twice in the morning before I left for work. All I saw was the padlock the husband used at the gym. No keys. I asked the husband to check everything again for me while I was at work. Guess where he found the keys? In the red backpack right next to the padlock.
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