31 Years and the “Worst Birthday Ever”

Let me regale you with the tale of my Worst Birthday Ever…

This has been a rough week. Nova is in a developmental leap and isn’t sleeping, while  Orson has regressed back into banshee shrieking. Nathan experienced an issue with days-worth of animation work getting mysteriously corrupted, and our family car started having seriously concerning electronics issues. On top of everything else, the migratory Saharan sands passing over Texas right now are making their annual attempt to kill me with the worst allergies ever.

At least we had my birthday to look forward to…

We had it all planned out. It wasn’t going to be anything wildly spectacular, just a nice way to spend the day that I thought the babies would enjoy. I’m not enthusiastic about my birthdays in general, but “31 Years: Fun in the Sun and Cheers” sounded nice and thematic. Beach trip, share some mimosas on the sand with my husband, play with the babies, then take them to Rainforest Cafe on the Riverwalk to get a sparkling volcano cake! It was going to be great.

Best Laid Plans

So we set out on our adventure early Saturday morning, June 17th. We grabbed a quick breakfast at Chick-Fil-A before hitting the road for the nearly 3 hour drive to Whitecap Beach in Corpus Christi. We stopped twice during the trip, once for diaper changes and leg-stretching, and once to pick up a beach parking pass at the Stripe station up the road from the shore. 

Ordinarily great road-trippers, the toddlers were restless and fussy and noisy for the drive there. Three hours of overstimulating grousing. Since we took the Prius (without Bluetooth), I also didn’t get to listen to my gentle parenting book like I’d planned. And when we stopped to grab the beach pass? Nathan discovered Chick-Fil-A had never given his credit card back to him. At least we had a back up. Disaster deferred. 

We drive up the road to the beach, and it is more packed than we’ve ever seen it. An unusual number of inconsiderate “sideways” parkers making space inaccessible and scarce. So we drive for a while. My anxiety is already pretty high just from the drive and the card issue, and now, after being in the car for three hours with cranky toddlers, we won’t even be able to find anywhere to park.

Like Sands Through the Hourglass…

Until, at last, there’s a space. We’re able to park the Prius in some loose sand, knowing we’d have to worry about that later. The tide is high. There’s so little usable space here on the beach because of how far the water is washing up on shore. For all the work I put in making the beach packing list for families, I didn’t account for issues like this. 

I watched as Nathan insistently attempted to erect the beach tent. It would’ve been fantastic, except for the water washing up against the supports. It’d collapse, some people nearby would chuckle. I’m trying to get the babies in their swimsuits and hats and keep them corralled in the car, so I can’t help. Some well-intentioned passerbys assisted Nathan in setting up the tent, then another wave would come in and knock it down. By this point, I’m frustrated, the babies are frustrated. Nathan is definitely frustrated…

We give up using the beach tent or blanket this time. (We actually used the collapsed tent in lieu of our beach blanket since the similar material dries and cleans so easily.) Already, I’m expecting we won’t be staying very long. It feels like this whole endeavor was a terrible idea.

I lightly smear some sunscreen quickly on the babies’ legs, neglecting my own, again assuming we won’t be staying long. Orson is spazzing about his feet touching sand. Nathan and I are frazzled. There are a bunch of jellyfish we spot just a few feet into the churned up, murky Gulf water. Nova is running around everywhere, care-free and wild…

Fun in the Sun and Cheers

I walked up to Nova and said “You are probably the only one having fun right now”. It was true. She was taking in everything, had a beach toy in each hand, charging boldly into the surf. She’d point out at the waves and exclaim or see a line of gracefully, flying-in-formation Pelicans gliding overhead that would catch her attention. 

Taking a deep breath, I decided to follow her lead. We waded out into the water a ways, playing in the breaking waves. The stress began to dissipate, Nathan and Orson joined us (once Orson had gotten his Ten Little sandals back on), and everyone started to enjoy themselves and relax. A cute, little girl came up smiling and waving at Orson, and all of a sudden, he bravely set his feet firmly into the sand and his whole body language shifted. We were all having a great time.

Nathan and I ultimately got to share our mimosas while the babies went to town on some white cheddar Cheetos and coconut water. Cheers! And not long after that, I was teaching Orson and Nova how to find and collect coquina clams like my grandparents taught me when I was little. At one point, I even caught a baby horseshoe crab in my hand! 

No one was stung by a jellyfish, a nearby 4-wheeler caught fire but no one got hurt, I got to spend a few minutes out in the ocean by myself while Nathan rinsed and changed the kids. Maybe in adopting Nova’s perspective, this wouldn’t be the “worst birthday ever”. There had been disappointments, but we were all adjusting, adapting, and ultimately enjoying ourselves. Things would probably turn out okay after all.

Reservations Without Reservations

We’re all loaded up in the car. Nathan had wisely positioned some driftwood under the Prius tires, and we were able to back out without difficulty. The babies were exhausted and happy, each with a Pumpkin Bite from a Stasher to munch on, and Nova dozed off quickly. We head back up to the Stripe, I run in to change clothes, while Nathan calls Rainforest Cafe for reservations.

It’s a holiday weekend. Father’s Day and Juneteenth. Rainforest Cafe isn’t accepting reservations, and based upon our ETA, they estimate it’ll be at least an hour wait, if not 2. So we’re presented with a choice. Rainforest Cafe on the Riverwalk doesn’t have the best Yelp reviews, so maybe we should just back out. But maybe the reviews are overblown. But with the holidays, we’ll probably run into the same issue anywhere else.

Not to mention, I had spent the week prepping Orson for the exciting “Volcano!!!” cake with the sparkler on top. He’d talk about it, then shout “Volcanooo!!!” with so much glee. Nope. He’ll be so bummed. We’re going to make this happen.

So, we drive the 2 hours to San Antonio. Nova’s nap was so short, so back to overstimulating fussing between the backseat whiners. We find parking, we walk through the overcrowded Riverwalk to get to the restaurant, and as luck would have it, it’s only going to be an hour-ish wait. Great.

We sit in some shade. I let the babies munch on some Goldfish crackers and watch Bluey and Silly Miss Lily to keep them occupied. I reminded Nathan about the food quality to expect. It’ll be like Chili’s or Applebee’s, we don’t have high expectations at all, quite the opposite. It’s more about the atmosphere and the cake. It’s for the kids. 

The Terrors of Tigers and Time

How was it possible to go in with the lowest expectations possible and still end up so brutally devastated by disappointment? By the time our table was ready, the kids were exhausted, overstimulated, dead weight. They were being patient and cuddly and sweet. We ascended the staircase to get to the 2nd floor of the restaurant where our table would be, and that’s when Orson saw it.

The animatronic tiger. He was enthralled. For a brief moment. I was watching him, he was watching the tiger. I only saw his reaction of pure, primal terror when this robotic stuffed animal unexpectedly moved to look toward him. He hid his face, dug his fingers into my back, clutching to me for dear life, screaming and crying. Fortunately for us, it’s a super loud restaurant, so he was drowned out. I took him behind a pillar out of the tiger’s line of sight and was able to calm him quickly.

Rainforest Café Review

Once we were seated, I kid you not, it took probably an additional 15 to 20 minutes (roughly 3 episodes of Bluey) before a server even greeted us. Once he finally came to take our drink order, we told him to go ahead and get our food orders in as well. The wait was insanely long for anything. Neither of us blame the server, though. Every staff member in that restaurant looked like deer in the headlights. It was chaos and disorder and disorganization.

When it’s inherent in all of the employees, it’s poor management at work. Don’t believe me? Look at all of the canned Yelp review responses from management, regardless of whether the review was positive or negative. They know this place is a tourist trap, they know the people will come. The service can be unacceptable, the food can be disappointing and insanely upcharged, there can even be reported health code violations, and they don’t have to care.

ZERO STARS.

The Spark is Gone

Nathan was determined to see this through for me. After a disappointing coconut shrimp meal that Red Lobster easily rivals (while not costing nearly as much), he ordered that dang volcano cake. I remember the experience of this cake as a kid.

I loved Rainforest Cafe in Grapevine, TX growing up. Going there was such a dream for my birthdays. The atmosphere, the animatronics, and that sparkling volcano cake…not to mention, I remember that location feeling more open and expansive. Riverwalk Rainforest Cafe is SUPER claustrophobic. 

Guys, when I saw the cake, I finally broke inside a little bit and lost the fight to hold back a couple tears. It had been a long day with a million tiny bad things snowballing into the “worst birthday ever”. But this was the absolute FINAL cherry on top. Not only is it like a $20 cake made with the iciest ice cream ever, there was no sparkler. It was a wooden skewer with shiny confetti frills on it.

And with it, any spark of hope of it not being the “worst birthday ever” was gone.

Orson saw it. It didn’t live up to the hype. He buried his head in my lap. Once the waiters stopped disingenuously singing Happy Birthday, he looked up at me, whimpered “Mwah!” to request a kiss, climbed into my lap, and melted against me. I told Orson that it was okay to feel disappointed, that Mama felt disappointed too. That things don’t always go according to our hopes and plans. He whimpered “All done”, and I agreed that I was “All done”, too. 

The Best “Worst Birthday Ever”

Still, looking across the table at Nova, sitting on Papa, dancing to the music and exclaiming at the janky, animatronic Pandas in the claustrophobic corner…she was on an epic adventure. She was up way past her bedtime and getting to eat special junk food after playing at the beach for hours. She was wired and giddy and overtired and loving life. 

The “worst birthday ever” wasn’t quite over yet. We had to make it back past the terrifying tiger, see some big Clydesdale horses that were also scary to Orson in his overtired, overstimulated state, and then deal with congestion once we got back to our paid parking lot. 

We’re learning to roll with things. You can always find reasons to be joyful, even in the midst of the “worst birthday ever”. We made good memories at the beach, even though I currently have the worst sunburn I’ve had in years. We made the round trip safely. I bonded with my baby boy through empathetic commiseration. My baby girl had a delightful day. And I ended up with a great story for the blog. Not to mention, now Orson can’t stop talking about the “Tiger! Horse! Rawr!”

For being the “worst birthday ever”, it certainly could have been worse.

Once we finally got home around 10pm, bathed the babies, and got them down to bed, we remembered that our neighbors had brought over some leftover Nothing Bundt Cake bundtlets that were in our fridge. I needed a candle to blow out on this “worst birthday ever”. Nathan made me a gin and tonic and sweetly sang Happy Birthday to me. It was the worst, but getting to spend my 31st (which Nathan says is just 13 backwards) with my wonderful little family was the best, no matter what.