So, the 24th of July celebration (Pioneer Day in our religion, where we remember our ancestors that crossed the plains and started a life out west through many trials and hardship) didn't work out exactly how I thought it might. The parade was fun, and the weather was absolutely beautiful, which also meant a really big turn out. That was fun too, because everywhere I looked were people I recognized, but haven't seen for a very long time.
But that's kind of where the fun ended. Reilly wasn't feeling well and I had to take him home. So I did that for about 15 or 20 minutes and got him all set up and went back down to the celebration.
Where I proceeded to spend about 30 minutes in three different lines, with no food to show for it. They were running out of food (some of the meat hadn't cooked), or the line wasn't moving forever and ever, and Shawn was already past his bedtime and not interested in sitting there in the stroller. When the program was about to start, and none of the idealized stuff I had looked forward to had happened, I started losing it a little. And Shawn was losing it too, and we ended up heading home before they even turned the lights off. And I cried in the car and wondered what was wrong with me, and why I was so upset. My poor husband was trying everything he could to make it work out for me, and let me get what I wanted, but I didn't know what I wanted. I hate being a girl and being emotional and complicated! (And having idealized expectations sometimes still, even though I have 4 young children.)
The only thing that finally made me feel better is getting back to my mom's and talking to my sister. She, too, had some kind of idealized thought of how things were going to go. Her thoughts had included everyone sitting happily on a blanket together, eating watermelon, visiting with friends, and watching the fireworks together. Her reality didn't work out so well either, with 3 little boys at bedtime in a huge crowd. She, too, had cried a little bit on the way home.
I said, "Where did these expectations come from? Is that how it worked for us when we were little?" She thought for a moment and said, "actually, the only real memory I have of the 24th of July fireworks is mom trying to get dad to pull over in Safford so we could watch the fireworks, and he was saying, 'Look out the window. You can see them.'" And then we both laughed and laughed at our expectations and reality with small children. And then we felt better, and ate some of the ice cream my mom had brought home as a consolation prize, and mostly moved on. Maybe another time. :)
We did watch the fireworks from out front, and as I was waiting for them to start, I could just barely hear some of the program music. The faint strains of "Come, Come, Ye Saints" was familiar, and I tried to think about all my blessings, and to be grateful for my ancestors, who faced much harder trials than grumpy children and long lines for food. All so they could practice their religion without persecution, and bring up their children and grandchildren and great grandchildren in the Gospel. The fireworks were pretty, and the kids (up past their bedtime) oohed and ah-ed. We didn't have to fight traffic afterwards, and Shawn had been asleep for 30 minutes. Things didn't turn out like I hoped, but they turned out fine. Hopefully my kids will remember the parade, watermelon, ice cream and fireworks more than they remember their crazy mommy crying in the car...
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