It took a trip to Disney World for me to realize I’m becoming more and more like my mother.
I haven’t been to Disney World in a few years, due to the increasing costs (that’s another story entirely) and the fact that life has just gotten busy. But on Thursday, I went back to visit a former roommate who is now in the Disney college program, and to spend time with a friend visiting from Indiana.
Returning to Disney reminded me of the days of my childhood when I rushed from ride to ride, trying to cram as many things in as I could. My parents walked at sonic speeds, so even with my eagerness, it was a struggle to keep up at times. My dad would accompany my sister and me on the rides, and sometimes my mom would have to sit the rides out because of her motion sickness. I always thought that was a bummer, and my thoughts went like this: “I’m glad I’m not like that.”
Later in the day, my mom would say: “Let’s see a show.” I dreaded those words. “A show? Why can’t we ride another ride?” I would mutter to myself.
One time it was the Carousel of Progress. Another time it was the Country Bear Jamboree. She pretty much dragged me to them. And they were alright, but I wanted to be on a ride even more.
Fast forward to last Thursday. My friends and I got on Space Mountain, perhaps the most intense roller coaster in the park. (If you’ve been to amusement parks, you know it’s rather mild compared to most coasters). I came off and felt a little dizzy.
I warded the dizziness off with a rootbeer float and Diet Coke, don’t worry. But when my friends suggested we go on Thunder Mountain (the second-most, sort-of-intense roller coaster in the park) I decided it wasn’t worth it. There was no use feeling nauseated for the rest of the evening.
Diet Coke in hand, I walked around the park, browsing the shops. When I arrived in front of the Hall of Presidents, I stopped.
The Hall of Presidents was a show I’d seen as a child, dragged in by my mother, of course. All the presidents from the history of the U.S. are made into life-size figures, and they talk to one another.
“I should go in,” I thought, curious to see how they portrayed Barack Obama.
I rolled my eyes and realized how full circle things had come. I’m becoming like my mother.
I don’t think we are “doomed” to become like our parents. There’s a lot about ourselves that we can change, and if we don’t like the way our parents did things, we can be different. But for many of us, we have great parents that we should emulate in many ways. And there are a few things that are just genetic.
I don’t enjoy developing my mother’s tendencies to feel dizzy after a ride, during a road trip or on an airplane. But my mother is an incredible woman. If becoming like her means I can’t ride roller coasters anymore, I think I’m OK with that.
