Disney World

Disney. 

 So many things come to mind when I hear that word.  Some good, some notsomuch, but one thing I know is that a three-year-old-princess-ballerina-adventurer would love Disney World.  So when my mom and I realized we had just enough time to squeeze in a visit (maybe our last chance before we move beyond driving distance) we went for it.  

 It was a pretty packed trip. 9 hours of driving to get in at 1am, hit the park at breakfast time on Miss's birthday and pack in a day of fast-pass park criss-crossing (we stayed until midnight) then a morning at the pool and another long drive late into the night.  Whew!

Was it worth it? Peanuts.  They don't call it the Magic Kingdom for nothing. 

Little One knew what the top priority was for Her as soon as we got past those castle gates.  

Meet. The. Princesses.  

She was completely star-struck.  She used Her best royal manners; offering Her hand and curtseying, "nice-a meet you!"  She was completely unamused by the overt spunkiness of the tinkerbell lot, but treated Minnie, Mickey, and Pinocchio like old friends.  

After having been introduced to all these VIPs, Little One deemed the trip a success! 

But there was more.  Dancing.  Singing. 

Possibly Her favorite part- "the singer-guys from the Music Man!"

  

Popsicle.  

Nice of Disney to give Little One a free popsicle for Her sister's birthday

And, oh yes.  Rides.  

Little One LOVED the rides.  She didn't even mind waiting in the incredible lines for the rides.  She asked for the kiddie-coaster ("Little too scary, Mama. But it's ok, we can tell Dada how I was so brave on there!") She was giddy over the teacups, She's still talking about the Pooh ride with Nana.  

Now.  

In case any of you felt like taking the word of a teenaged employee, having not been on the ride since loooong before Jack Sparrow swashbuckled, I am here to tell you.  

PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN IS TOO SCARY FOR 3-YEAR-OLDS.   Let alone one-year-olds.  The acrid smell of parental guilt and the thick smoke of impending doom as the boat departed into a dank tunnel ringing with the croak of "Deeaaaad Meeennn Teeelll Noooo Taaaaaaaalllleeeeesss!!" will unfortunately go down as a black spot on our cartoonishly happy Disney experience.  

As will the next six agonizing minutes of huddling together, trying to cover the disturbing soundtrack with my own cheery narrative- 

"Ha ha. Ha.  Look, that pirate has a pet pig.  Cute little piggy! Oooh, those ones are having a big campfire.  Maybe they are running to get marshmallows! Oh yes, silly doggy! Silly doggy tricked those funny pirates into getting in his cage! Look there, he's bringing back the keys! He was just pretending, good doggy! Ha. Haaa haa!  Such funny little pirates!"  Right. 

The physical trembling of my poor Little One (why don't those things have an emergency eject button?) made us a little wary of the next ride.

Especially since my parents are still telling the tale of how I was so horrified on it that I literally tried to jump overboard when I was Little One's age. 

But you all know Little One (aka Little-One-Lilly-Ti-ger!) and Her love of- Peter Pan. So we tried it. 

 

She LOVED it.  In fact, at the end She told every passer-by how UN-scared She was; how much fun it had been.  And how the fact that the croc was letting Hook dance on its head, and that Hook was so joyfully doing so, proved to Her that they were actually both friends. That they were nice, after all! 

If you say so, kid.

What surprised me most was how much Little Miss enjoyed the whole thing.  

She loved it! First of all, It's A Small World.  

"This trippy place is a-MAZ-ing!

 Ho. ly. cow. If I had left Her in there, She'd still be bopping around.  Dancing and grinning, giggling and clapping, waving and ooh-ing and aah-ing.  

A whole land of eternally happy, dancing, tiny people?!  

She found where She belongs, guys.  We went through twice. 

It IS a small world, after all!

Miss was also hugely into the parades, the carousel, and the multitudes of people to flirt with (the one person in Disney who actually likes long lines). Not to mention all the hanging out with Nana time while Little One and I hit the big(ish) kid rides. 

"why did we stop? I need some spurs fer this hoss."

"I get to ring this just 'cause it's my birthday?! You people rock."

We did just about everything there was to do, staying until the park closed.  Disney was even so kind as to provide the Littles with their all-time favorite dinner (salmon and broccoli).  And Nana was so kind as to provide Little One with the one object She had coveted all day long.  

 

It could not have been more magical.  

 

Despite the insanely long, overstimulating, and jam-packed day, despite the no-naps, the late dinner, and the long lines to get anywhere (including out of the park), I am happy to say that there were no tantrums, no cases of the gimmes, no complaints from my little princesses.  

Around 11pm- Little One a little disheveled but still having fun! Missy all magic-ed out.

The only tears shed all day were a few shimmering down Little One's cheek in the moonlight 

as we walked away.  

"Bye Disney wor-wold.  I just miss you so much.  I love you all the days."

At least it didn't break

First of all, today we went to church at the Basilica. It was our first time.  It is "passion Sunday" in lent; a particularly somber mass.  Nearing the end of the very deep (I'm sure, I couldn't really hear the priest, he was SO somber) of the homily, Little Miss- who I could have sworn was two millimeters from a deep sleep guys- suddenly took Her glass baby bottle and chucked it on the hardwood floor. 
BANG!
Ga-baang-baaang-baaaang-baaaaang...
As it rolled, echoing, beneath the sensibly-shoed parishioners of one...two....three rows of pews. 
Luckily She made up for it by waving and blowing kisses to all the people who turned to stare.
"Why hello! You finally all realized you should be paying attention to ME!"
Little One, for Her part, was a perfect angel all mass. Quiet as a ladybug, smiling sweetly and minding Her manners.  Of course, there was the part where we all walk down the aisle for communion.  
A long aisle, looking strikingly like some sort of catwalk. 
Don't worry.  She only took out about three elderly people by tripping, surprising, or slamming into them during Her seriously rockin' dance routine down the red carpet. 
Luckily She atoned for Her sins too, sweetly delivering a handmade masterpiece in crayon and stickers to the priest once we made our exit. 
We know how to make a first impression, don't we?  A lot of people came up to meet us afterwards. All fans, miraculously. 
Church is such a good place to pray, right?  I sent up an extra one.  Something about thank you.  For the lesson in humility, for the kindness of strangers, and for the sweet innocence of my smiling/waving, dancing children.  I couldn't hear what the priest was saying, but thanks to the Littles, I'm pretty sure I got the point. 

Ka-Pow

Sometimes when I have too much to say, I blow a fuse and say nothing at all.
There has been a lot happening around here! After my trip, Little Miss turned one.  That blew several fuses, actually.  We threw a party for Her, and the next day my mother and I (who share the crazy gene, obviously) capriciously decided to haul the kids off on a whirlwind road trip to Disney.  We got back, had to say goodbye to my mom, and had school, and parties, and playdates.  There was St Patrick's day in there too, and a Pristapulka for Miss who is WALKING among so many other things that the upcoming birthday post is going to require a lot more time to write than the current laundry situation can possibly allow.  But it will come, Peanuts, and pictures and all that too.  In the meantime, everyone is ok.  Especially me, because I bought a half-gallon of ice cream for the party, and never served it.  Sneaky.

Celebrating 30

On my first solo vacation in over four years, I expected it to be relaxing.
And it was! Sitting in an airport and having nothing else to do but sit there was pretty amazing, not to mention sitting in front of a fire with a glass of champagne! 
I expected it to be glamorous.
And sitting at the airport bar with my veggie burger and my Guinness (working with practically no interruptions whatsoever, leaving no extra tip out of guilt for floor debris around my spot) was glamorous.  Then we went out to fancy dinner, we went wine tasting...  woo hoo, Peanuts!
Like trying on a ballgown at a designer store I could never afford, I put on this un-mom lifestyle and turned this way and that way, feeling how light the fabric was, admiring the sparkle.
I expected it to the freeing. At 7am when I was still snug in bed, at 7pm when I didn't have to feed or bathe anybody, at the pool where I wasn't the slightest bit concerned that anyone might drown, I might as well have had actual wings.

Birthday Candles

Getting together with the girls I have shared over a decade of ups and downs and hysterical laughter with, I expected it to be fun.  I expected the joy and the gratitude for knowing such amazing people.
I was not disappointed.
But there were a few surprises.  The champagne and sweet note waiting for us in the room, sent by my thoughtful sister was a good one.  Being told by the "yoga" teacher to "grab onto our stomach flab, shake it like jelly, and laugh like this: 'ha-ha-ha-hee-hee-hee'" was certainly not expected.  Nor was finding myself locked into a "family" restroom, pumping milk at the Dallas airport.  (Well I didn't want to overdose on the glamor guys.  There must be balance, right?) 
But the thing that surprised me most about this trip was that while of course I also expected to miss my little family, I could never have guessed that I would miss them SO. Much.
It's Something, I think, that even though I truly had the most wonderful trip and birthday celebration possibly imaginable, I still missed my babies, my J, and my mom (at my house helping with the Littles) so very, very much.  So sharply, constantly much.
The truth is that traveling without the Littles is hugely easier and less exhausting. But airports and airplanes without them are so....boring.  For months I had looked forward to my three-hour layover on the way home from California.  I spent all of those three hours wishing I had my kids with me.
I need trips like this sometimes.  I need to break out of my routine, shake it free, dust off those little corners of Me shoved into storage 99% of the time.  A good spring cleaning.  Try on something new and different just to shake things up a little.
And also to remind me that while it's fun to try on the fancy-free ballgown sometimes, well it just doesn't suit me as well as the sundress with the spots of magic marker and babyfood at the hem.
To reiterate our collective birthday toast to ourselves: Here is to turning 30.  A happy day, a great day.  Because we all happen to be exactly who and where in life we want to be.  Can't beat that. 

 

All My Stuff Fits In One Carry-On

Remember how you felt the night before your first trip to summer camp? Or college?  Like all super excited but also a little nervous and homesick?
Tomorrow at the crack of dawn, I am heading for an airport.  It will be the first time in TWO YEARS that I will spend fully 24 hours away from my babies.  In fact, it will be nearly four times 24 hours, till I get back on Sunday night. 
I am going to miss the holy heck out of my kids and my J.  I have all kinds of guilt and sadness pangs over leaving Little Missy for the first time in Her adorable baby life.  I am not thrilled with the (TMI alert) pumping involved with a separation between mom and nursing child. 
But Peanuts.  I am going to have a three hour layover.  All. By. My. Self. 
I will read.  !!!  And sip something that would both stain and scald if spilled and I will sit. very. still. 
It will be glorious.  People my nails are painted.  Yup, all of them, and do you know what that means?! I will be actively engaged in practically zero menial labor for the next four days. That's what.    
I'm not going to vacuum an ever-loving thing. And I'm going to wear things that are dry clean only, and I am going to have a martini and I am going to do it with two of the best possible people out of six and some billion on the planet.
Two of my very best friends since high school and I are all about to take on a whole new decade in life.  So some time ago, we made a decision.  We are not going to bemoan the passing of this decade and the involuntary reassignment into a new census bracket, no.  We are not taking this getting older crap laying down! Nope, we're going to celebrate the awesome fantasticness of the next 10 years. 
So even if I did get a little teary-eyed putting the Littles to bed tonight, I know that with J and my mom here they are in good hands.  And, after a weekend of celebrating and relaxing with people who make my heart happy, when I get back I think they will be in better hands with me, too.  Happy hands. Zen hands.  Shiny, pink, nail-polished hands.