Kicking Off Fiesta!

In Dallas we grew up with the Fair, but living here in San Antonio, we have something much better: Fiesta! Who knew we would be celebrating the independence of Texas from Mexico's reign in 1836 with 10 days of fun in 2006? Gotta love it!
Each year since we've lived here we've taken Will to kick off Fiesta at St. Gregory's Fiesta De La Familia. My Aunt Melissa and Uncle Bob play a huge role in organizing and executing this activity and it is loads off good carnival fun! Dave likes to go for the Shiner and Corn on the Cob. I like the silent auction and cake decorating contest. Will loves the prizes and the rides. Each year he looks longingly at the Big Kid rides and stands tiptoe at the height scale. We've sent him on his merry way with your traditional Ferris wheel and Bounce House. Happily, this year he was ready for the real stuff.


He and I ventured over to this ride loaded with big kids swinging in their seats, flipping their whole carts in circles. Will is so excited he runs to a cart in need of a second brave soul. I handed 4 tickets to the middle age, missing teeth, weathered carnie (as Dave calls him). I step to the back to bask with my sister at my son who is growing up right before my eyes.

"Ma'am,” the man asks "You're not going to ride with your son?"

"No" I replied, "he's going to brave this one alone."

It's true, I was a little worried about Will and I would have liked to hold his hand, but going on the ride is asking a little too much...

"Well, Ma'am I'll let you on the ride for free."

And I'm thinking I must be a bad mother if this guy wants me to ride with Will so bad that he'll let me go free of charge. Blindly, I walk over to Will who has made a new and eager friend, and we head over to the last cart available.

We clamber in and to my horror there is remenents of vomit covering the side and toppling over the edge. I look up in disgust to see Will beaming with happiness. Oh man, I don't have the heart to tell him to abandon ship, that ride is unacceptable, that I would give him anything if he just opens the latched door.

I stay quiet; Will starts rocking in hopes of spinning our cart like the other big boys. I pray that the smell emitting from our cart is in my head and watch Will's hand carefully, ready to scream "Get your hand away from there!" because he is getting a little close to the undigested contents from someone else's sick tum-tum smearing the side. Without realizing the ride has started we transcend a few feet in the air, Will rocking, me worrying.

It's not pretty: my sister blurs past me. Instead of her gentle, reassuring face she looks a little worried and I'm starting to feel like I did after our 21st birthday. I can't even look up anymore, my eyes are shut so tightly I have to force them open to make sure Will is okay and clean of hand. The world is spinning and I am trying so hard to stop it. We continue to go faster and higher, and I know I must be in hell.

I peek at Will who has stopped rocking, he looks a little perplexed: "Are you okay, Mom?"

"Uh huh," I reply in a meek voice ... please, for the love of God, please stop this machine.

Minutes (years) later the ride slows. The carnival man runs over and grabs our cart to stop it. I look over at my sister, who is anxiously waiting. With tears in my eyes, the man engages in small talk, and I'll I can do is muster: "Thank you for the ride. That was truly awful." I tried my best to not sound ungrateful, that would just be rude. He takes my hand and helps me out. I step out, with a shaky flip flop, over the pile of freshly laid puke (not mine) careful to make sure Will doesn't land in it, too.
"Come visit me again!" The carnival man says.
No... Not likely.

I'm so sick; we have to sit down a few feet away. Dave and Avery, both fresh from the Face Painting Booth with glittering dragonflies on their cheeks, look at me a little pained. Will who bravely made it out unscathed, is holding my hand. My dear, sweet sister who takes my defense in any circumstance starts in on the fact that the ride WAS going on too long.

Defeated, I break it to Will that I will not be riding anymore rides - we have to go home. Amy, with Avery in hand, helps me to the car. Will and Dave get their cotton candy to go. I climb into the passenger seat, put my head on the dash, and pray Dave takes the turns slowly.

I felt so guitly we had to leave, but Will isn’t disappointed. Instead he’s worried and asks me if I’m okay. He keeps my heart full while my stomach lurches: he is a compassionate boy and that is all I could ask for. :-)