By TRINA SEVERSON
Guest Columnist
Years ago, a friend and I took our daughters to Holiday World and Splashin’ Safari theme park. The kids were still pretty small, so we skipped most of the thrill rides for tamer fun. About midday, we came to the flying carousel in the Halloween section – that popular carousel swing ride that people of all ages adore. Holiday World calls them Hallow Swings. I call them Swings of Terror.
Because I’m scared of heights and being airborne. My friend and our daughters all know this about me. But as we paused at the swing ride, the kids grabbed my hand and pulled me along. “Come with us, Mom!” my girls begged, staring up at me with hopeful little smiles. Ah, they were so cute. I agreed to go. I’d model how to be brave in the face of fear. Parenting experts would call it a “teachable moment.” I swallowed my panic and stepped forward.
My first mistake.
Trina Severson is a writer and mail carrier in Tell City, Ind. Last week, she read this piece at Scaramouch columnist Scott Saalman’s Will Read and Sing For Food benefit show in Jasper, Ind., which raised $2,900 for Anderson Woods Summer Camp for disabled children. (Photo provided)
“WHOA! Mom’s going too!” They shouted and pulled me toward the entrance gate. “I’m a fun mom,” I mused to myself. I waved bravely to my smarter, more self-aware friend who waited at the exit, her feet safely on terra firma.
As I buckled myself in, my courage wavered. I glanced around at my fellow riders – thrill-seekers of all ages. Preschoolers. Elderly people. Maybe even a couple centenarians, all chatting and smiling, swinging their feet in anticipation. We were all in this thrill together. Behind me, the girls waved and smiled. We exchanged a quick thumbs-up. I hoped my sunglasses hid the fear in my eyes.
The ride shuddered gently and came to life. The motor whirred. I felt my swing begin to rise and pick up speed. My sweaty hands gripped tighter. “Ohhhh … nonononono.” I shut my eyes and told myself, “You got this, mama.” Spoiler alert: I didn’t have this. I wasn’t even close to having this.
We’d made about three revolutions when my panic spiked and I looked down at my dangling feet.
My second mistake.
They looked like giant clown shoes hurling over little ants below. “Ohhhhhh!” I gulped air. It was hard to get enough oxygen at that height – we must have been 400 feet off the ground by now, spinning at 50 revolutions per minute.
I shut my eyes again. So. [nodding]. This is how it ends for me, I imagined my swing breaking free and catapulting off into the cosmic wilderness like Elon’s Tesla Roadster. What a way to go! But my poor kids and fellow riders. They’d be traumatized for life.
I snapped back to reality when I heard the panicked yelling. Someone was yelling to get off the ride. The woman in front of me? The child behind me?
Oh for cryin’ out loud, it was me! I was the maniac hollering for the ride to stop. “I NEED TO GET OFF! I NEED TO GET OFF! I NEED TO GET OFF!”
The ride’s young attendant remained calm and professional. He raised his hand up toward me in a soothing gesture. “Ok ma’am, I just need to slow it down first.” I nodded and tried to collect my wits. I felt the eyes of my bewildered fellow passengers on me. I couldn’t look. If my kids pretended not to know me ever again, I wouldn’t blame them. Probably for the best. The ride slowed and my swing sank back down to the ground. We stopped.
There was complete silence as I released my death grip on the chair’s ropes and did the only thing I could do. I freed myself from the swing, thanked the hero-attendant for his life-saving actions, and walked – shoulders back, chin up – to the exit. Behind me, the ride started up once again.
Overall, it was a really fun day! Any day you cheat death is a good day. And I do think it was a teachable moment. Kids are smart. I’m sure even with all my drama, my girls learned some valuable things:
- Like, life involves risk, so face your fears.
- Ask (or shout maniacally) for help when you need it, and then accept that help.
- Don’t take your up and down moments too seriously. You might lose, you might win. You won’t know unless you try.
- And most importantly: never go on a carnival ride with Mom.