The Happiest Place on Earth

No. 2 is a good kid. She is helpful and clean, friendly and hardworking. She is pretty, athletic and gets decent grades. How lucky Emily is, you may think with a twinge of jealousy as you read my blog, to have such a perfect child. But let me tell you, every girl must go through the awkward, horrible, traumatizing pre-teen years and I have been through them three times. (Four times if I count myself, which I don't because my preteen years were not at all the armpit of my life. Nope. Not at all.)

All my girls were unbearable in their own way between the ages of 12 and 14 - just recently we have been able to withstand prolonged periods of exposure to No. 3 - but No. 2, wow, her pre-teen years were rough. See, where No. 1 cried and No. 3 chattered and shrieked like a rabid squirrel on a sugar high, No. 2 was angry. Really, really angry.

We were worried about her. We met with doctors, teachers, even a psychiatrist. ADHD, they all said. She is just angry because she can't concentrate. Lets put her on Adderall and she will be able to focus.

She was able to focus, all right. Adderall gave her the ability to focus, with laser beam intensity, on her rage. She kicked, bit, clawed, and punched; threw temper tantrums for hours at a time; and peeled off the outer layer of finish on the bathtub with her bare hands just for spite. She was an absolute nightmare.

Right around this time the family was taking a trip to Disneyland for Spring Break. Husband and I debated amongst ourselves about even taking her on the trip with the way she was behaving, but ultimately decided if we didn't. we would always be the parents who left her home and took everyone else to see Mickey Mouse. Off to California we went, to Disneyland, California Adventure, and the beach. Everyone had the time of their lives.

Everyone except No. 2.

She was absolutely miserable. She hurled insults at the Pacific Ocean like a Republican at a Healthcare Reform Support Rally*. She growled at Jasmine, sneered at Snow White, and stared down the deformed bird-things from Chicken Little until they slowly backed away. She screamed and sobbed as we, the most horrible parents on planet earth, made her ride through the Haunted Mansion. She laid down on the ground inside the entrance to Monsters Inc, rolled her way through the line, and didn't get up until we physically picked her up and stuffed her in a seat. She screeched, "I HATE MONSTERS, INC!!!" for the entire ride. As any one of you who has gone to a Disney park can attest, there are more temper tantrums per capita than mouse ears, but very few of them are thrown by 12-year-old girls. Needless to say, it was a little embarrassing.

Husband and I eventually figured out that the medication was making her worse and took her off it. She was still mad, but we no longer feared that she would kill us in our sleep or poison our mouthwash. And we have four rolls of photos from our family trip to Disneyland to help us remember the good times that were had by all. Well maybe not "all"... See, No. 2 was so toxic she spread misery to all the passengers on board The Columbia. I like to call this one, "Take the &#$#@ picture already!"

My original intent was for this to be a picture essay - there are plenty of hilarious pictures from this trip - but I realized that it would be a little unfair to post dozens of embarrassing pictures of No. 2 when I haven't posted any of the other two. So you will have to settle for just this one.

* Happy Election Day! Go Vote!