The Disney Driven Life

Community Blog for Neurotic Disney People

I am sure that many of you have stayed at Disney’s Pop Century Resort in the past.  However, upon my recent stay, I made the decision that since it was July, I would commit to coming back to the room for a rest during the day to avoid a complete meltdown by 4 p.m. (I say meltdown because it was in the mid-90s during this stay, but felt more like the mid-100s!).  So on the first day when I returned to the resort for my rest at about 2 p.m., I did as I usually do when returning to the resort at the end of the night and went to make a bee-line to my nice, clean air conditioned room (I knew they were air conditioned because of the retro sign as driving into the resort that announces, “Air Conditioning”!) when my son spotted the playground located outside of the Classic Hall and close to the 90’s parking lot.

This was the first time we had spotted this playground.  It is located down a small pathway and is a bit obscure, unless you know where it is and what you are looking for!  My son and I found this playground to be heavily treed which offered enough shade to reduce the heat of the day to a more manageable level.  My son, age 4, enjoyed the slides, bars and pebbles (Yes, I said pebbles.  He loves to dig!), while I enjoyed the seats that were along the parameter of the area.  I found that I felt that my son was safe there in that playground for the following reasons:

1.  Flooring was made of pebbles and large rubberized mats,

2.  Only one entrance/exit to the playground (unless a child could climb and make their way through the surrounding bushes and scrubs)

3. The area is so isolated that most children pass right by without even giving the area a glance leading to a hidden oasis for a kid!

4.  The playground has age restrictions of 2-12 year olds and

5.  All children must be supervised.

I found out that many of the Disney Resorts have playgrounds for the children!  It was so nice for my son to get to get up out of his stroller for a bit before going to our room for his nap.  It really helped him get good and extra tired so falling asleep was fast and easy!  This lead to a magical portion of the day when I got to enjoy a few moments of peace and quiet!  Now that is a hidden extra all within itself!

(Photo credit: T. Curth NDM#118)

Contributed by: Natalie H. Natalie is the Disney Driven Life’s resident resort expert.

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Every day, thousands of guests march through the turnstiles at Walt Disney World parks filled with great expectations of fun and excitement. This is where the magic is supposed to happen, and this is why Disney World is known as the happiest place on earth.

If that’s so, then why do I always see so many angry parents and crying children? I decided to take a look at this growing phenomenon I call “park rage.” What causes it and how to prevent it?

Some parents forgot the old saying “if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.” For the better part of the year Disney World is that kitchen. I can’t tell you how many parents insist on dragging their overtired children through the parks in the blazing heat and humidity because they have to see and do as much as possible, from the time the parks open until they close. Heaven help the child that has to go to the bathroom or the kid who gets hungry between meals. Younger children catch a break because their parents whisk them around the park in a stroller, so they might be able to catch a nap. For these parents, it’s keep your head low, elbows high, and keep moving.

This type of touring is known as “commando.”

Its now day two, and the children are even crankier than they were on day one! The parents are more irritable too; so much so that even the sweetest cast member can get on their nerves for having the decency to say to them, “Have a magical day!” It gets even worse on day three, and by day four they’re fuming and completely miserable. It’s no longer touring commando style, its park rage!

That brings to mind another saying: “less is more.” Taking your time touring through the parks. Taking a break from them will do wonders for the parents and children alike. It allows you to take notice of things you would otherwise rush by or through. The heat and sun can really wipe you out and drastically raise your stress level. Taking time away from the parks in the afternoon gives everyone a chance to stop, take a deep breath, and relax, so that you can continue on your merry way later in the day.

Remember, this is your vacation! It should be stress free, as well as the happiest time of your life in the happiest place on earth!

Contributed by: Stuart S. (NDD #47).  Stuart is our resident Disney geek and creator of Disney Geek Dad.

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I’ll bet after reading the title most of you are thinking I must have lost my mind that there are no advantages of driving to Walt Disney World with children. So, for those of you who think that let me just say, I beg to differ.

With my family driving to Walt Disney World this year my wife and I have been bracing ourselves not just for the long drive but for the expected fighting between our 17 year old son and 14 year old daughter. Separately, my children are wonderful angels, but put them together and you have Maleficent meets Jafar. The only reason we decided to embark on this long journey from Thunder Road and the Jersey Shore to the Sunshine State is a Bar Mitzvah we are attending in Charlotte, North Carolina. Since we planned on driving to the Bar Mitzvah we decided why not extend the journey to the land of hopes and dreams, Walt Disney World.

All my wife and I could think about was what a nightmarish drive this is going to be, even with a two night stay in Charlotte. We were making the classic mistake of thinking the worst about a drive we haven’t even started. So, rather than continue to look at it as the glass half empty, we decided to look at it as the glass half full. We started thinking about all the positives and advantages that come with such a long drive with our children. While it wasn’t easy, I came up with a top seven list of advantages to drive to Walt Disney World with your children.

1. If you’re flying you need to take precautions when packing everyone’s belongings. If you don’t properly secure liquids in your suitcase, you can ruin your clothes, or worse yet, your child’s favorite things, and then have to deal with their tantrums. Driving allows you to keep all liquids separated from the luggage and other valuable items.

2. When flying, your luggage can get misplaced or lost. If your child’s belongings happen to be in the missing suitcase, be prepared to console an upset crying child. Lost luggage will also cause you to arrive late for your date with Mickey and friends. By driving down, you can rest assure your luggage is safely secured for your arrival to the promised land, Walt Disney World.

3. An advantage of driving is that, eventually, the car will lose reception of your children’s favorite radio stations. Once you’ve entered radio nowhere, you’ll be able to listen to Disney podcasts from your ipod.

4. I don’t know what it is about flying on a plane, but for some reason the Stewards and Stewardesses think my kids are elephants. Half way through the flight they throw a small bag of peanuts at them. If you drive, you can load up your car with all sorts of goodies to eat along the way.

5. If your child has to relieve themselves on a plane, you’d better hope the “fasten your seatbelt” sign isn’t on and the bathroom line isn’t long. However, if you’re driving and the nearest rest stop is miles away, you can pull off to the road on to backstreets and improvise.

6. Driving with screaming children is like having a constant alarm on to keep you awake. Unless of course you hit your child’s snooze button!

7. If your child misbehaves on a plane, there is no place to give them a time out. However, when driving you can pull off the road, remove the child from said vehicle, and give the child a very long time out. Just remember the location of your child and don’t forget to pick your child up on the return trip home.

Disclaimer: The above statements are make believe and were written with the express intent to provide amusement and should not be tried at home or on the road.

Contributed by: Stuart S. (NDD #47).  Stuart is our resident Disney geek and creator of Disney Geek Dad.

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OUR KEY WEST KINDGOM

As we pull into our parking space, I look upon some of the most inviting condos I have ever laid eyes on.  Surrounded by tropical palm trees and lush shrubbery, three stories of pastel-painted units sit behind a section of white picket fence and a pleasant bench area.  I can hardly wait to find out which unit is ours.

I turn around to face the back seat of my van and capture the look on my cherubs’ faces when I am abruptly reminded of our incredible amount of luggage.  In the past we have never required this much stuff during our trips, but this time we needed to literally pack everything but the kitchen sink due to the childrens’ medical condition.  The thought of lugging all these boxes, coolers and suitcases through long, winding paths is a very unappealing one.  Even though we are now in the midst of Key West bliss, nothing can make that chore magical. 

“I hope our unit isn’t too far,” I slightly whine as I think of past escapades that involved walking endlessly to designated accommodations in Disney’s moderate resorts.  “It isn’t,” DH cheerfully remarks, “It is right in front of us.”  I say with surprise, “What?  I thought you said we have a water view.”  DH exclaims, “We do!”  “I don’t understand,” I reply with confusion, “Are you telling me that we have parking just outside of our unit and we still have a water view off of our balcony?  How can that be?  When we wanted a water view at Disney’s Coronado Springs, we had to walk at least five minutes around fountains and cacti, towing all our luggage, before we reached our room.” 

Apparently I had been too preoccupied with my DVC status inferiority complex during check-in, and I failed to hear the lovely hostess explain that all OKW units have parking directly outside their front doors.  I am completely tickled by this, for nothing gives you the feeling of “home” quite like your own parking space.  “Wow,” I exclaim, “unpacking the van is going to be a breeze compared to our past trips.” DH agrees. 

We excitedly jump out of the van and begin removing baggage and children from within.  I suggest that I start taking luggage up to our unit on the second floor while DH continues to unload the van’s contents.  Finding this to be a good idea, DH nods his head, tosses me a key card to our Key West Kingdom and tells me the number of our “home away from home.”

I carefully balance multiple bags from my neck and shoulders while I pull a rolling duffle bag with one hand and a tired two-year-old with the other.  It is an extremely awkward task, but since the door to my unit is so close I am not bothered.  It will be over soon.  Inching down the sidewalk, I pass some stairs on my left that lead directly to my unit’s front door.  However, with all this baggage, I am not about to take the stairs.  I walk further in order to find a nearby elevator. 

Ever so slowly, I progress down the cement walkway near the front doors of the first floor units. I pass a janitorial closet, a staff-only elevator, a couple designated smoke areas and beautiful landscaping.  Somehow, though, I fail to find the elevator.  “It must be here somewhere,” I mumble to myself.  “Mommy, where are we going,” DD2 asks in a voice that indicates her patience is wearing thin.  I respond, “Mommy is looking for the elevator.  If you see the elevator, tell Mommy.  OK?”  DD2 says in an irritated tone, “OK.”

After painstakingly walking the entire length of the condo complex, I am flustered with the fact that I must now walk all the way back and hope for better luck in spotting an elevator.  Centimeter by centimeter, DD2 and I trudge back towards our point of origin.  The luggage seems to be a lot heavier now, and it rythmically hits my ample rump while I walk.  A time or two bags slip from my shoulders, causing me to lose equilibrium and allow multiple sachels to fall in a pile on the sidewalk.  DD2’s tolerance for my misadventure grows thin and her fussing takes center stage.  I sigh heavily and long to have an elevator in my sight.

Eventually we come back to the foot of the stairs that lead to my second floor condo.  How could I miss the elevator for a second time?  At this point, I am too invested in the elevator hunt.  I cannot give up now.  “C’mon, DD2,” I prompt, “The elevator is here somewhere.  We’ll find it.”

Once again we begin a trek down the length of the building.  As I am about to pass the staff-elevator for a third time, I consider that the guest elevator must be in this vicinity.  Telling DD2 to wait with the luggage, I walk around the entire structure that houses the elevator shaft, looking for the hidden entrance to the luxury I long to find.  None is too be found.  “Pixie wings,” I expel in frustration, “Where could the dumb elevator be?”  I rejoin DD2 and my luggage on the path that lies between the staff-elevator and the front door of some DVC vacationer who is fortunate enough to have a unit on the ground floor.  Completely flabbergasted, I tell DD2 that the elevator must be camouflaged well.

Just then, the fortunate DVC Member with the ground floor unit emerges from his front door.  He obviously has some great vacation event to attend because he has a big smile on his face as he heads towards his car.  “Excuse me,” I yell as I quickly waddle in his direction with baggage and child trailing behind, “Can you tell me where the elevator is?  I have an incredible amount of luggage that I need to get up to the second level.”  The fortunate member’s big smile transforms into a sympathetic frown, “There isn’t an elevator for guests.  You’ll have to carry it up the steps.”  With that the pleasant member’s smile appears on his face again, and he says, “I hope you have a great vacation.”  Then he turns and continues on his way.

My jaw drops open at the words just spoken to me.  I have been up since one o’ clock this morning, driven nine hours in a crowded mini-van, listened to several hours of crying and complaining from bewildered children and suffered a severe blow to my self-esteem while waiting in the check-in line behind Botox Barbie.  Happily I withstood it all. But the injustice of enduring so much emotional pain and stress, clawing my way to get here, only to find that this deluxe resort property does not afford me the luxury of transporting my luggage from the ground floor to the second floor via a simple elevator overwhelms me.  The reality is too much for me to take.

As I hobble with my bags and daughter back to the foot of the stairs, I feel defeated.  I look up to the second level.  My door is almost directly above me.  It is so close, yet it is so far away.  Something in me gives way, and I feel a huge swell of exasperation overtake me.  I plop my sorry backside right on the bottom step and begin to sob.  It’s just too much, and my own personal meltdown begins.  DD2 has ceased to fuss and just stares at her NDM who has completely lost it.

“Love,” DH’s voice calls to me.  I look up and see DH looking strangely at me from the upper level where I want to be.  “Where have you been, and what are you doing?”  As I gasp for breath in between sobs, I try to relay the whole ordeal I just experienced.  But rather than a rational explanation, I am only able to spout nonsensical blubbering.

DH assesses the scenario and joins me at the bottom of the steps.  “Alright,” he says in a comforting tone, “It’s going to be OK.  I’ve already got all our stuff upstairs and in our condo.  I think you might need a nap.  Why don’t you go on up with DD2 and lie down.  I will bring the rest of these bags.  Can you do that?”  “Uh-huh,” I affirmatively answer through my sniffling, getting up and finally making my way to the front door and welcome mat that were meant for me.

 

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CRUEL AND UNUSUAL

It has been the longest morning of my life.  I have endured five hours of driving in a cramped van with argumentative and whiny children through a thunderstorm that was apocalyptic.  DD7 has refused to sleep since I woke her this morning at 2:30am, and it shows.  Her frazzled nerves have brought her to the brink of a meltdown.  Tears roll down her cheeks as she pleads for a rational explanation of the cruel and unusual punishment our mysterious “adventure” has inflicted upon her.

It occurs to me that stopping at Pop-Pop and B-moms home for a couple hours of rest was not worth the trouble.  Instead of being refreshed by that time off the highway, my World travelers have become resentful of our return to the road.  As a result, our current state of misery is intense.

We might have been better off had I activated my NDM superpower that enables me to drive without tiring when en route to Disney.  It is a type of mojo that most NDMs possess and provides more energy than a six-pack of Mountain Dew.  I am willing to bet my whiskers that simply staying the Disney course would have allowed for smoother travels.  The kids would have eventually slept due to exhaustion; they would not have been upset by grandparent withdrawal, and we would be at Disney already.  If we could just pull off this Disney surprise, though, it would be worth the trouble.

“We’re not going to make it,” I state to DH who is still diligently navigating our southbound trek.  “Maybe we will,” DH expresses positively, “”We passed the state line a little bit ago.  The weather has cleared.  The kids have been fed.  Perhaps they’ll settle.”  I look over my shoulder to observe DD7.  Rolling tears are quickly headed towards a “sobbing” classification.  I read frustration, anger and sorrow in her eyes.  The whole thrill of a surprise arrival at Walt Disney World is in grave danger.

“Nope,” I inform DH, “We are losing them.  We have to tell them.  Let’s pull over at the Welcome Center.  I’ll get out the camcorder, and we can film their reaction to our announcement.  It won’t be as good as letting them discover it when we get there.  However, they are too miserable to enjoy it at this stage anyway.”  DH agrees, and he pulls over when he sets eyes on the ramp.

I herd my cranky brood to the concrete curbside after releasing them from their backseat bondage.  Their irritated manners keep them blind to the fact that they are in front of the Florida Welcome Center.  This loathsome bunch squints in the bright sun, and DH and I state that we need to tell them something.  DD7 plops her bottom on the sidewalk, sighs, and rests her troubled head in her hands.  She is not even remotely interested in hearing anything we have to say.  The others follow her example.

I announce in the peppiest voice I possess, “We have figured out where we are going on our adventure.” DD2 (who is observing her new surroundings) screams, “Look! It’s a bird!” I try not to be discouraged by her short attention span even though I am about to make the announcement of her life.

DS5 decides to take a stab at guessing our destination.  “Pop-pop’s house,” he yells with enthusiasm.  DD2 tunes in at the mention of my dad and sweetly expresses, “I want to go to Pop-Pop’s.”  DD7 continues to scowl, for she knows that Pop-Pop’s home is not where we are headed. “No,” I explain, “We are on an adventure, remember?  We are not going to Pop-Pop’s house.”  DD2 tunes out once again and continues to observe the buzzards overhead.

I resume my attempt at unveiling our breaking news and give DH a chance to be involved in this special family moment by asking, “DH, where are we going on our adventure?” DH perks up at the opportunity to be the one to actually enlighten our mouseketeers. “Disney World,” he yells with enthusiasm.  The big announcement flops.  DD7 looks confused.  DS5 is distracted and looking off in the distance.  DD2’s blank expression betrays the fact that she has not understood anything we just said.

In order to teach our children the appropriate response to this fantastic revelation, DH and I jump around and holler in happiness.  Our children pay no mind to the spectacle we create in spite of the bewildered looks of others who observe us.  “Look at the trees,” DS5 exclaims and points at something he discovers to be of great interest. He is ignored, however, because DD7 skeptically interjects, “Is this a trick?”  In her eyes, our motivations are questionable because of her rough morning.  DS5 continues to look far off and insists, “Look at the trees!”  DD2’s blank stare remains.

I answer DD7’s inquiry, “No, do you know what state we are in?”  She shakes her head with a furrowed brow.  “Look at the trees,” DS5 demands and points again.  I continue to ignore DS5 and answer my own question, “FLORIDA!”  DD7 falls back into a horizontal position in the middle of the Welcome Center’s sidewalk.  The revelation of her arrival in Walt Disney World on this very day has overwhelmed her.

DS5 continues, “Look at the trees!” DD2 interrupts with a random comment.  As she presents hands that have been in contact with the walkway, she reports, “Mommy, my hands are dirty.”  I look over her messy limbs and begin to brush them off, but DS5 will not be put off any longer.  He emphatically hollers, “I WANT TO TALK NOW!  LOOK AT THE TREES!” 

I turn around to discover that DS5 has been intrigued by the unfamiliar appearance of palm trees.  I am thrilled that he has found something to help him grasp the concept of being in a new place.  “Yes, son,” I affirm, “Those are palm trees!  Palm trees grow in Florida!  We are in Florida!  Do you want to go to Disney World?”  DD2 has tuned in once again and declares with excitement, “I want to go to Disney World!” DS5—who has finally grasped the concept of our impending adventure–agrees with a definitive, “YES!”

The mouseketeers leap to their feet.  Cheers erupt from our group that has finally been united in the bliss of Walt Disney World anticipation.  Joining DH and me in our Disney hullabaloo, our little ones dance about.  We draw the stares of passers-by.  But as the children chant, “We are going to Disney World!  We are going to Disney World,” the observers nod their heads in understanding.

“Back to the van,” I instruct with glee.  Our entire family breaks out in a dead run except for DH who is happy but not happy enough to run.  All three children gladly submit to their backseat bondage this time, and the remaining four hours of driving are remarkably pleasant.

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LIVING THE NIGHTMARE

For a week and a half I have succeeded in keeping our check-in day a secret from my little Disney investigators.  It was not easy, but I cleverly avoided pointed questions from them by appearing momentarily preoccupied and unable to answer.  Surprisingly, Grammy did not become an obstacle either.  She did not make any attempts to foil my plans by revealing our arrival date to my mouseketeers, and—as far as I know—she did not discuss the trip at all with them.  This made it quite easy to pack and prepare for our vacation under the guise of “visiting Pop-Pop and B-Mom”. 

Since we did actually arrive at my dad and step-mother’s home late last night, the deception was readily accepted.  My children were enthralled to jump all over Pop-Pop and wrap B-Mom in hugs.  And even though we got there around 11 pm, energy was abundant.  It took me another couple hours to get the kids in bed, wrap up conversations with Pop-Pop and B-Mom, and settle myself down for a couple hours of rest.

It is now 2 am.  I stretch, yawn and shut off the alarm clock.  Check-in day is here, and there is not a moment to lose because we are still many states away from paradise.  I dress myself and begin repacking the few items that we schlepped into my parents’ home.  The responsibility of all this falls primarily to me because otherwise DH would be unwilling to leave at this hour.

After I have done all that I can possibly do on my own, I sigh and acknowledge it is time to awaken the family.  DH is irritable and difficult to arouse, but a wife knows a few tricks that will—without fail–bring her husband out of a dead sleep.  I am not beyond enlisting such manipulative trickery in times of Disney urgency, and DH pleasantly greets the day as a result.  Once I get DH up and resist further advances from him, I head downstairs to the sleeping quarters of my unsuspecting dreamers.  I am tickled as I anticipate driving into Walt Disney World’s gate, totally catching my kiddos off guard.  They are in for the best surprise that childhood can offer.

“Wake up.  It’s time to go,” I softly speak as I rub the arms of these precious ones.  “Where are we going,” DS5 questions.  “We are going on an adventure,” I answer.  “But, Mom, it is still the night,” DD7 assesses.  DD2 asks, “Where is the sun, Mommy.” I gently explain, “Yes, it is the night.  The sun is still sleeping, but we are going to get up and go exploring.” 

DD7 is not impressed.  “I don’t want to go exploring now,” she says, “I’m tired.  Besides, why aren’t we going to spend time with Pop-Pop and B-Mom?”  I honestly explain, “Pop-Pop and B-Mom have plans for the day.  So while they are out, we are going to have a family adventure.”  “But where are we going on our adventure,” DS5 persists. “Daddy and I thought we should just get in the van and drive until we find someplace that we would like to stop,” I propose.  DD7 is still not impressed.  “That is a terrible idea,” she declares.  “Yeah,” DS5 agrees.  I sit back and realize that this is going to be harder than I had anticipated.

I look at the clock.  There is no more time to be wasted.  I must get this wagon on the trail.  These “Grumpies” are going to get the best surprise of their childhood whether they like it or not.  “OK,” I firmly address, “I’m done being nice.  Get up out of bed.  Get dressed, and get in the van.”  “We haven’t eaten breakfast yet,” DS5 notes in a whiny voice. I sternly retort, “We will eat breakfast after we have driven for a little while.  Now move it.”

Reluctantly, my cranky sleepwalkers comply.  They are moving slower than a sloth submerged in a tank full of peanut butter and are full of complaints.  However, they are moving.  I am hopeful that they will fall asleep in the van and lose this unpleasant and argumentative demeanor.

My hopes are in vain.  As I securely buckle three scowling children into the backseat of our van, I suggest, “I think that everyone should just go back to sleep.  Daddy and I will wake you up when we have decided what we are going to do on our adventure.” “I am not going to sleep,” DD7 protests.  She is in a particularly difficult mind-set.  Being yanked away from loving grandparents at 3 am to pursue an undisclosed adventure after only a couple hours of sleep has rubbed her the wrong way.  It seems that at this point, she would oppose me no matter what I said; therefore, I am certain to not mention Disney.  “Suit yourself,” I resign, “The only one you will make miserable is yourself.”

I couldn’t be more wrong.  Hours pass, and DD7 has been sure to frustrate DH and me by regularly expelling her disapproving thoughts to us from the back of the van.  It has caused DD2 to suddenly awaken from her awkward position in the carseat a few times and realize she is incredibly uncomfortable.  Needless to say, we have endured a number of loud crying spells in addition to DD7’s scolding.  The magic that I hoped to build as we got closer to FL has dissolved instead.  Where did I go wrong?

As the sun rises, it is apparent that the weather has sided with DD7.  We are overcome by dark and heavy thunderstorms that make driving extremely difficult.  The rain pelts our van at a volume that makes sleep unattainable, so now there are three very irritable, uncomfortable and sleep-deprived kiddos at the opposite end of our vehicle.  The whining and crying escalate with every mile.  DH is tense.  I am certain that his nerves are raw from our children, but driving with such poor visibility makes him take on a crazed look.  I become concerned.

“Mom,” DD7 shouts above the deafening rain, “I think that we should turn around and go back.  This is getting ridiculous.  We cannot have an adventure in this rain.  Plus, we are very hungry.”  That’s right!  I realize that it is time to eat.  DH and I had planned to stop at a welcome center, set out the food we prepared the night before and enjoy a breakfast picnic.  This is not an option now. 

Due to the digestive condition that plagues my family, we cannot eat food from a restaurant.  We must eat the food we prepared, but how do I serve items like baked butternut squash, green beans and lamb while perched on top of the stacked coolers and luggage that cover every square inch of our mobile unit?  It is a question I don’t care to answer; nevertheless, I unbuckle myself and ungracefully climb over these piles to reach the back area of the van.

I provide some amusement for the three black rain clouds who watch me intently as I tip over a time or two, losing all manner of dignity.  I feel like I am performing a balancing act in Cirque du Soleil (albeit an unsuccessful one). I try to rearrange items from my unsafe position atop a shifting stack of boxes.  The task is laborious, but I finally access the needed cooler. 

I somehow manage to dish out the various items of our picnic menu.  Our family is a sight.  The children try to eat their “table service” meal in a “counter service” fashion.  I monitor the situation while continuing to perfect my balancing skills, and DH drives through the nearly hail-like storm as we slowly progress down the highway.

This was not what I had envisioned when I planned to present my kids with a semi-surprise trip to Disney.  The dream has taken a nasty turn and devolved into a nightmare.  As I teeter on my unstable tower of boxes, I can’t help but wonder if we will make it.  Will we arrive in Orlando as the united and enthusiastic family that I have worked so hard to attain?  I consider the question and hope for the best, but—in the back of my mind—I cannot shake the thought that this is a foreshadowing of things to come.

*for Disney road-trip tips, contact NDM#1 at ndm1@thedisneydrivenlife.com

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ON THE JOB TRAINING

The basic itinerary for our week has been set.  The few dining reservations that we needed have been made.  It is time for the task that all NDMs live for – designing a strategy for conquering the theme park.

I gather my three mouseketeers into our living room.  As a NDM, one of the responsibilities I hold is to teach my children the various facets of living The Disney Driven Life.  Among these, vacation planning is paramount, and this is a perfect opportunity to begin instruction in this crucial life-skill.

I line my troops up in military fashion for inspection.  They are a young bunch, but they come from good stock.  Being my own offspring, I know the Neurotic Disney gene is somewhere in their composition.  It is up to me to lay hold of whatever Disney instincts each child displays and nurture these inbred inclinations until they blossom into undeniable characteristics of Disney neurosis.

The little mouse that shows the most promise is Margeaux.  She is my mini-me.  From physical appearance to dramatic temperment, this one is almost a carbon copy of her NDM.  She already shows organizational abilities that should serve her well in vacation planning.  Her Disney trivia is nearing perfection due to regular pop-quizzes to which I subject her.  And–on occasion–she even mentions concepts for theme park rides.  As I look her over in my line-up, I surmise that she is definitely going places.  Margeaux is one to watch.

Next in line is Miller.  I suspect that this little guy will be my toughest case to crack.  As most little boys do, Miller holds his daddy in high regard and tries to imitate every move.  Since Joel, my husband, only shows an amused tolerance for Disney, this puts me at a slight disadvantage where Miller is concerned.  However, since I began my indoctrination early on with him, I have made impressive strides.  He has developed a solid interest in Buzz Lightyear and Captain Hook.  Plus, when Miller does get caught up in a moment of Disney whimsy, he has been known to gather the money he’s received for chores and present it to me in support of our Disney habits.  A tiny smirk appears on my face as I look Miller up and down.  He is not a lost cause, but there is work to be done.

Elle is last in my brood.  She cut her teeth on Disney due to the obsessive Disney nature of her NDM and influence of her siblings.  As a result she puts all topics of conversation within the context of Disney (whether it is their proper context or not).  It occasionally makes for amusing misunderstandings that always cause Joel to shake his head in dismay (such as referring to her immature breasts as “Minnies” rather than “ninnies”).  This reality is paired with the fact that she is the most dynamic personality of the group.  The fresh discovery of all things Disney along with her expressive nature is a powerful combination, and I find she has the ability to force all other family members to join her in uninhibited giddiness or despairing gloom as she learns the inner-workings of a NDM family.

“Well,” I begin my pep-talk as I pace back and forth in front of them, “as y’all know we are going to Walt Disney World.”  My composed infantry erupts into chaotic silliness, whooping and hollering while “getting jiggy with it.”  “ATTENTION!” I yell.  My undisciplined company looks at me quizzically, and they settle enough to allow me to continue.  “There will be a time for celebration, but this is not that time.  This is the time where we buckle down and get to work.  There is a lot of preparation that needs to happen before a family can go to WDW, and everyone has to do his or her part.  Today our job is to devise a plan of attack.  Can I count on you to make productive contributions?”

Margeaux looks slightly stressed by my battle cry, but she obediently salutes me and shouts, “Yes, m’am!”  Miller raises his eyebrows and looks at Margeaux with a confused expression.  He doesn’t quite understand the meaning of my speech or his sister’s response, but he figures he better comply.  His chubby little hand goes up to his forehead, and he says with some uncertainty, “Yes, m’am?”

All eyes turn to Elle.  Everything that just occurred has gone completely over her head, but she detects the serious tone of the moment.  Her little brow is wrinkled in determination.  She is going to participate like the big kids, and she’ll put all the pieces together later.  “Yes, m’am,” she bellows.  Then she slaps her forehead with her tiny palm in an attempt to salute.

“Let’s do this, ” I command.  I take my place on the couch with my map, notebook and pencil.  Then I motion that my little brigade should gather around my feet on the floor.  They position themselves appropriately and look to me for instruction.

“The first step in conquering a theme park is to define the attractions that you must see no matter what.  That way if something goes wrong and everything cannot get done, there are some priorities in place to help make wise decisions,” I begin.  “Do you understand?”  Margeaux nods her head, but Miller and Elle shake theirs in a negative response.  I try again, “Mommy just wants to know what you want to do most when we go to Walt Disney World.  OK?”  Everyone chimes in with, “OK.”

“Elle, we’ll start with you,” I initiate.  “What do you want to ride or see the most?”  She replies with absolute resolve, “Dumbo!”  I try to explain, “Oh honey, we can’t go see Dumbo.  Dumbo is in the Magic Kingdom.  We are going to Disney’s Hollywood Studios.  What would you like to do in Disney’s Hollywood Studios?”  “Dumbo,” she declares.

Clearly Elle has not grasped the concept of Walt Disney World being a segmented entity.  I realize that I must back up a little to address this misunderstanding.  “Elle,” I remark with a tender tone, “we are going to Walt Disney World, right?”  “YES,” she shouts.  I continue, “Well, did you know that Walt Disney World has a lot of different parts inside it?”  Her eyes grow wide, and she shakes her head.

It occurs to me that this concept begs for an illustration, so I send Miller to retrieve one of our Mickey Mouse plush dolls from the playroom.  Once Mickey plush is in hand, I start my object lesson.  “Here we have Mickey. Mickey has many parts, doesn’t he?  He has ears.  He has eyes.  He has pants.  He has a tail.  They are all parts of Mickey, and when we put them together we get one whole Mickey.  That is how it is is with Walt Disney World.  There are different parts like the Magic Kingdom, EPCOT and Disney’s Hollywood Studios, but all the parts make up the whole Walt Disney World.”  I continue, “Now there are certain things that only go with one part.  For example, we wouldn’t find a button on Mickey’s ear because buttons only go on his pants.  We wouldn’t find a shoe on Mickey’s nose because shoes only go on his feet.  It’s the same way with rides.  We can’t go on Dumbo The Flying Elephant because that belongs in the Magic Kingdom.  We are going to Disney’s Hollywood Studios.  In the Studios, they have Voyage of the Little Mermaid, Playhouse Disney — Live on Stage!, and the “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” Movie Set Adventure.  Why don’t you think about which one you like best.  Then you tell me your answer in a minute.”  “OK,” my sweet cherub agrees.

“Miller, what do . . . . Miller?”  I look to the spot where Miller was seated, but he is no longer there.  “Where is Miller?” I ask my daughters.  Margeaux points her finger in the direction of the playroom.  “Miller!” I holler, “Get in here right now, young man!”  Miller comes stomping into the room.  I reprimand, “What do you think you’re doing?”  “I’m bored,” Miller responds, “Well, if you don’t do your part today, you are going to be bored when we go to Walt Disney World.”  I am well aware that the statement I just made is not only inaccurate but an impossibility; however, there are times when a NDM will spew nonsense in order to enlist the cooperation that is needed.  “Please have a seat,” I request.  Miller plops on the floor, and I ask him, “Now what do you want to do most in Disney’s Hollywood Studios?”  “I don’t know,” he replies.  To help refresh Miller′s memory of some options,  I look at my theme park map.  “Some things that you might like are Indiana Jones Epic Stunt Spectacular!, Star Tours, Muppet Vision 3-D and Lights, Motors, Action! Extreme Stunt Show.  Do any of these appeal to you?”  My pencil is poised, and I’m ready to record his dictation.  But there is no response.  I look up from my notebook.  Miller is staring out the window.  “Miller,” I whine.  My cranky call pulls him out of his daydream state and back into our living room.  He displays a blank expression and says, “Huh?”  I heave a big sigh.  This is proving to be more difficult than I’d originally thought.

I turn back to Elle.  “Have you thought of what you want to do most,” I ask her.  She nods her head in affirmation.  “Mom,” Margeaux interupts.  “Yes,” I reply.  “Do I have to ride on the elevator ride?” Margeaux inquires.  “You mean The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror,” I correct, “If you are tall enough to ride it, then you have to ride it once.  If you don’t like it, then you don’t have to ride it again.”  Margeaux sits in silence and considers the words I’ve spoken, so I focus once again on Elle.  “Tell Mommy, Pumpkin, what did you decide is your favorite attraction.”  “Dumbo!” she proclaims.  I close my eyes and give a frustrated smile.  “OK.  Thank you,” I tell her.  “You may be excused.”

Elle toddles off to the playroom to play while I try to make some progress with my remaining planning partners.  “Miller, please stop pulling the threads out of the throw rug,” I fuss.  “Mom,” Margeaux interupts again, “I don’t want to ride The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror.  It looks scary on the DVD.”  I try to calm my irritated nerves and rationally explain, “Sweetheart, it’s not as scary as it seems on the DVD.  You are in a seat with a big seatbelt.  You’re perfectly safe.  Did you know that when I was a little girl, Pop-pop made me go on all the rides that scared me?  Because he did that, I got used to them.  Now I love them.  But I never would have liked them if I never tried them.”  Margeaux’s lower lip begins to quiver.

Oh dear!  This situation is deteriorating at an accelerated pace.  I look over at Miller.  He is picking at a scab.  “Oh!  Stop that, son!” I say in disgust.  “Stop that now!  Gross!  Yuck!  Eeew!  You may be excused!  Go play,” I exclaim.  Miller gets up and walks off to the playroom.

I am left with Margeaux who looks more depressed than Eeyore without his tail.  I know that some comfort is warranted as well as a talk to bolster her courage, but I am desperate at this point to accomplish something.  “Could you please tell me what you want to do most at Disney’s Hollywood Studios?” I beg.  With the dramatic flair that Margeaux is known for, she bursts into tears.  In between heavy sobs she manages to communicate, “I just can’t!  How can I possibly know what I want to do, when all I can think about is what I don’t want to do?”  With that she throws her sorrowful head in my lap and gives way to a pity party that is reminscent of Alice’s when she discovers her body is too big to pass through the locked door and into Wonderland.

With a sobbing child in my lap, I stroke her hair and wonder where I went wrong.  This was supposed to be a simple exercise in Disney vacation training that would help build excitement for our upcoming trip.  Instead it became a frustrating experience of torment for all involved.  “There must be a better way,” I think to myself.  I know I will find it, but in the meantime I think I will stick to designing park strategies on my own.

*for information about Disney theme park strategies contact NDM#1 at ndm1@thedisneydrivenlife.com

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