The Big Lebowski
Please excuse me if I am a bit fuzzy or incoherent in this post. I think I am suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which according to wikipedia, is defined as "a severe anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to any event that results in psychological trauma."
Oh yes, there was definite psychological trauma today.
It all began a week or more ago when I got an invitation via Facebook for an Autism Family Bowling Adventure.
Though I am well aware of the heightened noise levels at bowling alleys and the scuzzy shoes one is required to don, though I know there are many flashing lights and annoying little tunes emanating from the little arcade, and though I am cognizant that my kids are not the only members of the Pancake clan to have serious sensory issues, I readily accepted the invitation on behalf of my entire family. I really don't know what came over me.
Everything else is a big blur.
I vaguely remember Danny crying about having to wear shoes other than his own, and Danny whining about having to wait so long for his turn, and Danny sniffling because there was no pizza as I said there would be. And Charlotte, not to be outdone by her brother, joined in and cried because....well, I am not sure why. Maybe to show solidarity?
The rest is a hazy kaleidoscope of bowling balls stuck in the lane and nacho cheese spilled in my purse and overstimulated kids running all over the place.
They promised us adventure, and we got no less.
If by adventure you mean levels of stress and sensory stimuli the likes of which would likely stupefy a Navy Seal.
Finally, Bil snapped out of his shell shock and realized that we could leave whenever we wanted. We were not, in fact, prisoners of war, though I was *this close* to curling up under the plastic seats in the fetal position and begging for my Mama.
Without much fanfare, we recovered our shoes and went AWOL, hightailing it to the nearest Subway, where we mostly recovered.
I, however, am still twitching.