Disney Detox

I haven’t written for a bit.  That’s because a little over a week ago, we returned from a family trip to Disney World.  We were there for the World Dance Competition, which was simply amazing, but more on that later.  I want to discuss a radical proposal.  Now, I love me a Disney trip.  I am seduced by the attention to detail, the amazing customer service, and the familial joy.  Note, however, that I did not refer to said excursion as a “vacation.”

Family Vacation

“Family Vacation,” Normal Rockwell.  Yup, this is about right.

By the end of a Disney jaunt, I feel like a wrung out dishrag, and the faces of the parents at the Orlando departure gate would indicate that I’m not alone.  We all sat with a slightly glazed look while our children, high on sugary, sunburned energy buzzed around our aching feet.  Likewise, a number of the dance moms who’d gone on the trip posted celebratory couples only shots at Summerfest over the subsequent week, reveling in their alone time.  Please don’t get me wrong:  I realize how lucky my kids are to have gone to Disney more than once in their young lives.  Heck, my first trip there was in the fourth grade, via full-size van and involved running out of cash on the return trip and a drive straight-through back home.  I get that it’s a special treat.  But for the parental set, I’d like to suggest some modifications that will allow for the noun “Vacation” to apply.

A Radical Proposal:  Disney Re-Entry Experience, a.k.a. Disney Detox

This 1-2 day experience will be located well away from any tempting Disney-related attractions, lest you feel compelled to check off one more “most-do” item from the list.  I’m thinking a parking lot near the airport or a nondescript office park on the outskirts of Orlando.  It doesn’t have to be a glamorous location;  nobody will be going outside for any length of time during re-entry.  It just needs to be outside the sphere of Disney (and other theme park) influence.

I’ve drawn up some sample language for promotional literature.  Let me know what you think:

During the re-entry process, parents will be gently separated from their children.  We acknowledge that you love them, but during this re-entry period it is important for you to attend only to your own toileting / hunger / thirst / entertainment / impending meltdowns. Children will undergo their own re-entry experience in the care of qualified, boringly-dressed professionals who do not give out autographs or call anyone “princess.” Daily programming will include clearing one’s place at the table, unembellished sandwiches / cereal / casseroles for meals, being responsible for one’s own belongings, and long periods of boredom. Don’t worry, they’ll be fine without you for two days.  Besides, let’s be honest–they need a little time away from you as well, Ms. Sweaty Boob Crabby Pants.

book nook

The adults-only facility features muted color, dim lighting, soft music and staff without name tags.  The option for separate bedrooms is entirely up to you and your partner.  Trust me, we get it.  Daily programming consists of napping, reading, board games, spa time, TV watching, and yoga or light stretching.  You can go for a leisurely walk if you must.  There is no schedule, opening / closing times, or lockout period for any of these.  YOU CAN DO THINGS WHEN YOU WANT, THERE IS NO NEED FOR A FAST PASS.

In addition to our serene detox environment, we are proud to highlight the following:

 

  • An excess of bathrooms.  You will never have to hunt for them or pre-emptively empty your bladder in anticipation of a long line.
  • Set menus requiring no decisions and no discussion of allergens.
  • Common areas arranged kind of like study carrels in a library–cozy chairs arranged such that you can avoid eye contact and, as a result, forced chitchat with any other re-entry guests.  For those inexhaustible extroverts among us, there will be a dedicated chatting lounge.  It is in pristine shape as it has never been used.
  • A return to a cash economy.  You must be shaken awake from the ridiculous ease with you have moved to paying for things with your wrist.
  • Foot massages.
  • Evening sunset-viewing from our shaded deck with 2+ dedicated chairs for each guest to choose from.  There will be NO fireworks.
  • Did we mention the foot massages?
  • No ponchos.  Anywhere.

feet in bed

 

So who’s with me?  I figure all we need to do is line up a few investors, arrange for a drop off point for the Magical Express, garner the support of the legions of Disney Mom Bloggers, and we should be set!

“I Don’t Know How It Happened So Fast”

time

I always get a bit melancholy this time of year.  It’s ridiculous, because the changing Midwest landscape seems so exuberant and joyful, but there it is.  When I was a kid, sure I was happy that the school year was over and the summer stretched lazily out in front of me.  But the end of the year festivities always fell flat.  I think that part of this depressive tendency has something to do with the cumulative effects of six months of Wisconsin’s meager winter sunlight.  I suppose that biology played a role, but over time I realize that most of it is pure nostalgia. My response to this past weekend confirms that I just don’t handle the passage of time well at all.  All of spring’s celebrated milestones and kids moving on;  the reminders of the ephemeral nature of time are too much for my naturally angsty soul!  Here’s some of the most recent evidence (caveat:  I cry over well-written commercials, so take it with a grain of salt):

Things I cried about this weekend:

  1. Senior “memory posters” at the dance recital.  Every year, the graduating seniors get to put together a collage of dance memories and a few words.  I routinely stand in front of these posters dissolving into a weepy pile of mush.  The old shots of the round, awkward preschool versions in puffy tutus compared with the “now” shots of these lithe young women.  And I know that every girl’s parent says the same thing:  “I don’t know how it happened so fast.”
  2. Tiny confection-like dancers at the dance recital.  If the senior displays weren’t enough, I then am confronted by the puffy little preschool ballerinas being led clumsily onto the stage.  Their tutus as wide as they are tall, they routinely steal the show.  However, while the rest of the audience “Aaaaahs” over the cuteness and laughs at the one ham in the crowd, I’m left with tears silently streaming down my face.  In 15 years, the little bon bons’ parents won’t know how it happened . . .
  3. Graduation blessing at church.  I might have been able to handle this one, so staid and formal in nature, were it not for everyone whispering how they could “remember when they were just a little baby.”  Stop remembering that so easily!  It was years and years ago, that much time must have dulled your memories!  It couldn’t have just slipped by unnoticed like that!  Luckily, my choir robes are long-sleeved and highly absorbent of human tears.
  4. Facebook feed crammed with pictures of graduates.  These always do me in more than prom pictures.  The look has changed so little over time–gowns, mortar boards, awkward poses next to Sunday-best parents.  It’s easy to dredge of memories of all of those other graduation photos filed away.  I cans till remember the cheap feeling of my own high school graduation gown, how my high heels sunk into the football field over which a stage had been set up.  If I can remember THAT so clearly, it must have only been a few years ago, right?  Who are all these young whippersnappers messing with my sense of reality?  Cue waterworks.
  5. My girls’ birthday pictures.  So, I don’t know how to use technology.  I needed a tutorial over the weekend to figure out how to find pictures and export them to this blog.  It was ugly, and Jimmy has suggested that teaching my grandfather how to use the computer was easier than helping me.  Apparently I kept saying things like, “stop clicking so fast!” and “how’d you get there?”  It was not a pretty scene, but he was saved from utter spousal destruction by the discovery of girls’ birthday dress photo collection.  This is a little tradition we started of taking their picture in the same dress every year.  Please join me in rapturous weeping over the first and most recent editions of each:
  6. Free donut for National Donut Day.  I’m not even kidding.  Nobody be kind to me for the next couple of weeks, I seriously need to recalibrate.

And here’s the thing:  I know that all of these tearjerking examples have to do with kids getting older.  I’m not sad about that fact, not exactly.  I’m interested by them as they change.  I was never a huge fan of infancy to begin with.  I’m just petrified of the fact that it all goes so quickly.  I get sad every spring when the tulips drop their petals, every fall when the last leaf falls;  somehow I didn’t pay close enough attention.

How can we possibly pay close enough attention?