Thoughts on Disney

WE DID IT! We survived travel and three theme parks and more with three small children (who turned six, six, and four on our trip!).

It was expensive. It was magical. It was exhausting. (Although thankfully my Enneagram One moves to Seven in growth, so I ran on a crazy amount of adrenaline and let’s-do-all-the-things kind of vibe the whole time.)

You’ll wonder where the magic is as you push around a stroller or two and stand around in more lines than you thought possible. You’ll think of how much money you paid and seriously you’re spending like 50% or more of your time just waiting for things to happen and what even is this and was it a good idea? But then you get on a ride and it IS magical, it IS. And we don’t remember the lines now. I mean, we do, but it’s not what we’ve been talking about. When we talk about our trip we talk about the fireworks and the light show and wasn’t the Buzz Lightyear ride cool? And the safari ride where we got to see all the animals? And we remember the things we actually got to DO, and not the 45 minutes we waited.

And when you’re holding a kid as the fireworks begin and they say, “There’s real magic here” and another kid says “This is my magical day” as she swishes around in her ridiculous princess dress and another kid asks, “Can we come here again?” as the fireworks end, you get tears in your eyes and think, YES. Yes we can come here again. This was 1000% worth it.

The kids are back at school this week and it’s the first time I’ve really been without them in the past seven days and it’s AMAZING. I can think entire thoughts and my brain space is my own for at least a couple of kid-free hours and sweet Jesus, I kind of forgot what that was like. My body is still getting used to not being in a crush of people all the time and having almost an entire freaking house to myself right now feels like the ultimate luxury. I can take entire steps with my feet! And swing my arms around without hitting anyone! What a gift.

Random Thoughts:

I remember loving Animal Kingdom as a kid but there weren’t as many rides as I thought there would be. It was also stupid cold the day we visited, which put a bit of a damper on things. BUT. The three main things we did: The Festival of the Lion King, the Finding Nemo Musical, and the safari ride were AMAZING. The shows themselves were jam-packed full of some serious talent and seeing them was worth the admission price alone. And the kids are still talking about how we could have practically reached out and touched a rhinoceros on the safari.

Legoland was perfect for us - Caden and Brooklyn each say it was their favorite day there and Nolan lists meeting Emmett as his Favorite Thing From the Entire Trip. The wait times for the rides were minimal which made it feel like more of a break in our trip than a full-on theme park day. If they were a few years older I think they would have been bored, but ages four and six with a healthy (unhealthy?) amount of LEGO obsession made it ideal.

At some point your kids will say they want to leave and go home or that this is boring because kids are jerks and you’ll kind of hate them for it.

You can be a feminist and also spend way too much money living vicariously through your daughter as she gets all dooded up at the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique. As a girl, I played with trucks and never came in at night in the summertime without a healthy amount of sand in my hair and also the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique would have been my absolute favorite thing at Brooklyn’s age. The boys got made over into knights and they also loved it. You’re only this little at Disney once and, as far as I’m concerned, this experience was worth every penny.

Those FastPasses are amazing. We used them for both shows at Animal Kingdom and for some character meet-and-greets at Magic Kingdom. I highly recommend the Enchanted Tales with Belle experience - it was one of my absolute favorite things besides the light show.

Speaking of meet-and-greets...what is up with the lighting at these things? I’m surprised that in 2020, the age of Instagram, the lighting is really this terrible. Disney brings in millions of dollars each and every day...can we really not figure out how to get some natural light up in here? The grainy, gross lighting really takes away from some otherwise adorable photos.

Things I Used/Wore/Recommend:

These shoes held up to walking (15,000+ steps!) around Magic Kingdom and everywhere else. I had purchased them last summer so they were already broken in, though I haven’t worn them recently. No rubbing, no blisters, just comfort.

These sandals worked well for our Legoland day and bumming around elsewhere. Not sure I’d want to wear them for one of our long days (Legoland closed at 5:00 - we were at Magic Kingdom almost four hours longer!) but they held up for a more relaxing day. And by “more relaxing” I mean only 11,000 steps around the park.

This belt bag. I was between this and another one with a zipper, but the flap closure made it sooo easy to get in and out of. I fit a small wallet (below), my phone, a hair tie, and lip gloss in here with room to spare.

This card case. Held mine and the kid’s cash, my ID, my credit card, and mine and the kid’s FastPass cards. Loved how thin and portable this was.

This windbreaker was a lifesaver on our day at Animal Kingdom where it never felt warmer than 45 degrees. You can smoosh it up and cram it anywhere and it feels super flimsy and you’ll wonder if you spent money on something that actually doesn’t even do anything, but it WORKS. I never felt the wind (which was substantial!) the whole day.

Also:

I purchased carbon offsets for the flights for our trip here. We’re not a family who flies often - this is our second trip with the kids, and Tyson and I each fly maybe once or twice a year. I feel slightly guilty when we do, just knowing how negative the impact is on the environment.

I debated whether to buy offsets or not - as with most things on the Internet, you can find all sorts of articles telling you why you should, why you shouldn’t because it doesn’t matter, etc., but came to the conclusion that it certainly doesn’t hurt anything, and since it may even (hopefully!) help, then for all of $30 for our family of 5, I might as well. 

Just a friendly heads up that most product links above are affiliate links.

Because I Want To

It was the end of the bedtime marathon and I was ready to take my victory lap. My youngest was asleep, or nearly so, in his room. I’d changed his diaper, put on his jammies, read the requisite three books, sang a song, and rocked him almost to sleep before turning on the sound machine and turning out the light. Then, I’d moved on to the twins' room, across the hall, as they changed into their pajamas before I read their books and tucked their blankets in tight. 

When I was done, I walked out of their room and took a seat on the top step. I collapsed there, really, leaning against the banister in the dark of the early evening. It had been a long day, the kind of day where sitting feels like its own special sort of treat. A moment later, my oldest son emerged from his room and tiptoed to the bathroom. He went potty as I sat there in the dark, the light from the bathroom partially illuminating the hallway, wondering if he saw me. He finished and turned the bathroom light off.

“Mommy,” he asked, as he crept back to his bedroom (Busted, I thought.), “Can you stay upstairs with me?”

“Why?” I asked with a tired sigh. This was an unusual request from him. 

“Because,” he replied simply, “I want you to.”

+++++

This night was over two years ago. His response struck me immediately - I typed a note in my phone as I sat in the dark of his room, just like he asked me to, to remind myself what he had said. How often do I do something simply because they want me to? How often do I do something simply because I want to?

Too often, I feel the need to justify my actions. I make dinner because we need to eat and fold laundry because we need clean clothes where we can find them and write an essay because I have a deadline. I read this book because it’s due back at the library and bake muffins to teach my kids about cooking and walk around the park because it’s good for my body to move and eat a snack so my blood sugar doesn’t dip to the level of hangry. I feel as though my actions need a purpose, a reason: See? Look at what I am doing and why I am doing it!

It’s difficult for me to do something “just” because. If it’s not productive or required, it feels all too easy for me to write off.

But I’ve been thinking about that “because I want you to” comment off-and-on for the past couple of years. I think there’s a reason it’s stuck with me, without even having to refer to the note on my phone. I think he’s onto something.

Read more over on the Twin Cities Mom Collective.

The Spirited Child Chronicles

“But at least you aren’t trying to squash him down,” Mrs. Whatsit nodded her head vigorously. “You’re letting him be himself.” (A Wrinkle in Time, Madeline L’Engle)

I have what we’ll call a “spirited” child. 

At his preschool conference this fall, his teacher greeted my husband and me and asked, as we took a seat, “So how do you think the school year is going?”

I burst out laughing, “You tell me!” I said, “With my other two kids, I know exactly what the teacher is going to say. But not with this one. It’s either going to be one extreme or the other!”

It was the teacher’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, we never know which version we’re going to get each day,” she said, “Nolan is either a perfect angel or bursting with energy!”

It reminded me of a time a friend watched my kids for an afternoon. Her own were the same age as mine — almost four and almost two at the time. When I picked them up I asked, “So how did it go?”

“Oh, he was good,” she said in reference to Nolan, “I mean, he wasn’t bad at all." She fumbled for words. "He just has so much energy! I couldn’t stop for a second. You must be exhausted at the end of the day!”

I was. I am. Every day. Even once the sleepless nights of infancy abated we entered the toddler years and I felt more exhausted than ever. The amount of energy it took to follow him around the playground, to make sure he didn’t dash out into the street, to ensure he stayed in the children’s area at the library and that he didn’t intentionally knock over anyone’s block tower took every ounce of energy I had.

I collapsed at night, never fully able to recoup all the energy I’d put out that day, the energy I needed to get through the next one full of his need for stimulation and excitement and movement and discovery. 

I could have wept at my friend’s words. I’d wondered before if I was crazy. Maybe I was just burned out from raising his older brother and sister. Maybe everyone else felt this way. Maybe he wasn’t as energetic as I thought he was. Maybe I only thought I was the only one chasing after my toddler at the park, at the library, at the mall. But my friend had seen it, too, his unrelenting energy. I wasn’t crazy. 

He is just, by nature, a lot.

Photo credit: Prall Photography

Read the rest about my spirited child over on the Twin Cities Moms Collective.

On Repeat

“It's not that I don't want to, I just don't want to today
I'm not a fan of mornings and I love my chardonnay
No, I'm not saying never, I won't wish it all away
But my name can't be Mama today, oh no
My name can't be Mama today”

I’ve been feeling these lyrics from The Highwomen down to my bones. The problem is, I’m not sure what I want my name to be. I don’t want to be wife or chef or maker of the plans or keeper of the plans or volunteer or house cleaner or writer and definitely not mama. Being buried under the weight of expectations and obligations and the never-ending cycle of all the things has been exhausting. Debilitating.

Maybe it’s a case of the Januaries. Maybe it’s coming up on six years of motherhood. Maybe it’s the relentless to-do list and the house that devolves into chaos the second I’ve brought it to any sort of order. Maybe it’s the fact that the children have been louder than usual lately. (Kids: “Hey Google: volume eight.” Me: “Hey Google: absolutely NOT!”) Maybe it’s having things on our calendar every day of the week. Take your pick. But I’ve been feeling like I could crawl out of my skin.

These photos don’t do that feeling justice. In fact, upon reflection, as I sat down to edit, they look refreshing. That mid-afternoon winter light is a trickster. It makes even those loads of laundry look inviting.

Maybe that’s the lesson here, that there is beauty in the ordinary. Maybe even the tasks that are on repeat, that have been on repeat for years, are still beautiful. 

Maybe it’s a reminder that there is beauty in this place even when I don’t see it. Maybe there’s beauty even if I don’t feel like being Mama.

As the lyrics say, “I’m not saying never, I won’t wish it all away”.

There is beauty here. I see it. Even when I just can’t be Mama.

Photo credit @pheonixfeatherscalligraphy for C+C, 2020.

This post was written as part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to read the next post in this series “On Repeat”.

It’s my birthday. This is why I’m making my own cake.

I lug the oversized red mixer from the pantry to the counter, set the oven to preheat, and check the recipe to make sure I’ve added the right amount of brown sugar. I watch as the mixer stirs, as butter and sugar become impossibly light and creamy. Eggs next, scraping down the bowl after each one. Add cocoa powder, flour, sea salt, mix again. Butter the pan. Pour the batter in the pan, stick it in the oven, and set the timer.

It’s quiet now that the mixer is done, save the hushed sounds of Brandi Carlile coming from a speaker on the other side of the room. I rinse out the dirty dishes but don’t clean them. I sit down with a book instead.

It’s my birthday, after all.

+++++

On the surface, that scene could sound sad. The solitary making of my own birthday cake.

Except it wasn’t. I don’t mind baking; I enjoy it. (It’s doing the dishes I take offense to.) I’m the only one in my family who really bakes. I’d rather bake my own cake, one I’ll actually enjoy, than submit to the horror of a grocery store sugar bomb with 682 ingredients.

I would have done that in the past; pretended baking my own cake was a chore since everyone around me seemed to think so. I would have gone right along with a store-bought version, trying to hide the fact that I scraped all the over-sweetened icing off my plate and straight into the garbage.

Maybe baking my own birthday cake sounds cumbersome. But I’d rather take the time to create something I want, to make it on my own, than to compromise. In a small, sugared way, I see it as a rebellion. It’s an assertion of myself.

Read the rest about birthday cake and the process of becoming over on Motherwell.