My inner child showed up at the "Wacky Caterpillar"

This weekend is the annual Bite of Salem, and since the hubby had a booth for his foster parent recruitment set up at it, I thought I would take the kids and meet up with Papa and Mimi down there. I tweeted about wondering why they call it "Bite" (singular) when there's so many local restaurants serving up yummy smelling foods that rope you in to take many bites (plural...such a spelling and grammar expert, I am.). But Gretchen lovingly tweeted me that it's really the "bite" it takes out of the ole wallet-O that gives it it's name. So true. So true.



Anyway, on to the carnival part...


Give me a rip roarin' roller coaster any day. Those ones that are found at parks where it costs an arm and leg just to get in. But put me face to face with those small, tight, spin-around-in-a-hundred-circles-before-it-ends kind of carnival rides, and I start sweating (and not because it's hot), and getting clammy, and wishing I had the kid's trusty "barf bowl" on hand.


I tried not to deflect my fear of certain carnival rides, which shall remain nameless but which should be illegal in all 50 states,
on to my children, but thank goodness they were not yet tall enough to ride some of them without an adult. A consenting adult. Of which, I am not one.


However, being the, you know, "fun mom" (ahem) that I am, I decided to join the kids on a ride or two.


So there was the "Baja Buggy" ride,
the Super Slide,
the Thunder Bolt,
the Wacky Caterpillar (even though a mini-coaster, it still managed to bring out the cheezy grin in me),


and the good ole standby...the Tilt-a-Whirl. Which I refused to ride because of it's obvious spinnyness.


Then there was the Cliff Hanger...where I decide to really pull out my "Fun Mom" card. (Verbal stealage going on. Sorry Amber.)


Here's me. Having fun with my oldest. Smile on my face. Voice inside my head screaming, "What are you doing?!" (When you have to take your shoes off for ride, that right there should tell you something.)
Here's me. Still having fun. Actually wishing I could spend all day up there. It was that fun.
(Yes, that would be MY legs sticking out for all the world to see.)


Here's me. Still having the time of my life, if the kid-like look of glee (Yes, I said "glee".) on my face is any indication.

Here's me. Realizing that the people below quite possibly may be wearing my breakfast soon.


Sorry, no picture proof. My dad was done taking pictures by then, and upon being unlocked I was too busy talking myself out of sprinting for the nearest Honey Bucket. If only there had been another hard-core blogger there who would have known that was a photo op and a bloggy moment waiting to be documented......


Yup. I'm ashamed to admit the Cliff Hanger became the Stomach Turner. But it was fun while it lasted. Well, up until the eagle landed and began wishing for her glory years back, that is.


Next, I thought of getting some cotton candy for the kids, but decided that the mere presence of it might send my stomach over the edge.


"Fun Mom" exit stage left.


~The rides - Free. (We were given some unlimited ride wristbands.)
~The (highway robbery priced) pizza slices - $9 (It took all I had not to go an a tirade about what that $9 could have gotten me elsewhere.)
~The moment when you realize that it really sucks to get old. - Priceless. (Because no amount of carnival corn dogs or snow cones was going to talk my stomach out of it's imminent need to hurl.)



...although, now that I've been home for a little while and recovered, I think I hear the yakisoba, and local frenchtoast-on-a-stick calling my name. Leave it to me to gravitate towards the food.


And, maybe, just maybe I'll use the day's remaining "fun mom" card on that big, sticky bag of sugar air cotton candy....