DAY 1
ROAD TRIP

Two months ago, I scoured many Disney related websites in search of a list that would help me get ready for our trip. TheMouseForLess.com provided the most thorough guidance with its ULTIMATE DISNEY PACKING LIST. Since then I have acquired, organized and packed all the items that it said I must have.

The suitcases have been sitting in DS6's room for at least a month, waiting to be loaded into our minivan. I thought my diligent preparation would eliminate the frantic running-around that happens at the last minute. But here we are--the day we plan to leave--and there is still so much to be done!

My children have a medical condition that requires them to be on a restricted diet. This complicates our departure considerably. Since I can't risk getting to Orlando and not finding their approved foods, we have to gather our groceries prior to leaving. Unfortunately, almost everything my children eat is perishable, so virtually none of these food items can be purchased or packed ahead of time. This leaves much work for us to do on the last day.

My husband seems to be dragging his feet. I know that he is excited to take this trip, but his attitude can resemble Grumpy's when it is time to load the vehicle. I understand that it is particularly laborious, but I am so anxious to get going that his difficult manner is irritating me beyond description. Doesn't he know that going to Disney invokes blissful joy that overcomes all other dislikes? His apparent lack of understanding this basic principle somehow renders me incapable of entering this gleeful state myself. His contagious cranky spirit is stealing my happiness, and this irritates me further as I acknowledge the hypocrisy of being irritated by someone else's inability to overcome irritation. I find myself in a vicious downward spiral at this point that drags me into the dark recesses that hide in every NDM's mind.

Once packed, we have to make a 13-hour trip in one big drive straight through the night to reach our destination. I am a little anxious about having to make this drive because I know that DH will not be much help when I am ready to occupy the passenger seat. He is incapable of driving for more than an hour or two at a time. He gets road hypnosis or something and goes right to sleep, and it scares the snot out of me since he could kill us all. This obviously means that the brunt of the journey falls to me, and I find myself getting more irritated as I think about my impending duty as primary driver.

I was hoping to feed the kids, clean up from dinner and get on the road by 7 pm so that I could get a good portion of the trip covered by the time sleepiness hits me. But DH's horrid attitude is prolonging the process to an extent that makes me want to pull my hair out.

We finally get in the car about 9:30 pm and pull out of the driveway. DH then tells me we have to stop at Walmart to get some more last minute things. I am not amused. After our stop at Walmart, we finally begin our trip at 10:30 pm . . . 3 1/2 hours behind schedule! This is not a good start, and I empathize with Rabbit who is constantly unnerved when the other characters in The Hundred Acre Wood foil his best laid plans.

DH offers to start the drive. I turn him down because I know that I will have to take over for him within the hour, and that would only further frustrate me. Also, I know that my current inner-turmoil will serve us well as I tend to drive a little faster when I am cranky.

So off we go. I am conquering the road at an exciting pace. DH promptly falls asleep. DD8, DS6, and DD3 are squished but quiet and content as they watch a movie together from the lone, bench seat of our van.

DD8 is crammed up against the side of the van because the two car seats of her siblings occupy the vast majority of the bench seat. At one point DD8 whines a little about being uncomfortable. Even though her frustration is valid, she is barked at by her lunatic mom, who has not yet relinquished grudges against the vacation-menacing dad. "I don't want to hear one syllable of complaint," I exclaim. "I am working a job for the sole purpose of financing these wonderful Disney vacations, and being cramped in the car is the only way we can get there. If I hear even one whimper of complaining--so help me--the
complainer will not go on any Disney trips in future years. He or she will stay home with Grandma because only happy people are allowed in Disney World!" In my mind, I am fully aware that if this were entirely true, I would be the first one eliminated right now. But being the NDM that I am I tend to say these hypocritical and guilt-inducing things in times of high stress. My empty threat works, and there are no complaints henceforth.

Once the movie is over, it is time to turn off the TV and allow my sweet offspring to dream away the miles between our blissful Disney destination and us. Since the car's sound system is no longer occupied by the screen-play of "Treasure Planet," I put on music and keep blazing a trail on the interstate.

As I immerse myself in the consuming world of radio, I begin to sing away my frustration over the challenging start to our trip. Slowly, all becomes right again. With each note I gradually evolve into the compassionate, loving, comforting, fun-filled, doting wife and mother that I usually am. So I continue to sing with a smile as I think about my now inevitable arrival in Florida . . . if I can just get through this drive.

Apparently, I hit some kind of groove and find myself driving without the faintest sign of impending exhaustion. The states go by, and I am still going strong. Around 6:30 am, I begin to feel a slight inkling of reduction in energy and my vocal chords are hoarse from the relentless abuse of an eight-hour singing marathon.

I am truly pleased as I acknowledge my Walt Disney World driving record. I have taken us from central VA past the FL border and somehow shaved two hours off of our trip. With this badge of honor worn proudly on my sleeve, I relinquish the wheel to DH who awakes and is in awe of me. I smugly tell him that I can take the wheel back should he tire in an hour. He smirks at my snootiness and assures me that he is capable of handling the remainder of the drive.

As I snuggle into the passenger seat, my slight reduction of energy becomes complete exhaustion. I happily go comatose in an uncomfortable, upright position, knowing that in a few hours I will wake up at my friend's house in Kissimmee, and I will be only one day away from arriving at Walt Disney World.

DAY 2
THE POWER OF PIXIE DUST

I wake up somewhere in Kissimmee. My DH has miraculously driven more than two hours, and I find myself totally refreshed. The sun is bright; the air is hot, and I am rejuvenated as I imagine my pasty, white VA skin transforming into a beautiful FL tan. Life is good, and it is about to get better because we are staying overnight at the home of a friend that I haven't seen since high school. Upon arrival, the plan is to feed the children, recover from the drive, catch up on 14 years in 24 hours and get "insider tips" from my friend and her husband who both work at Disney.

Finally, the house is found. Map Quest has successfully led us to the front steps of my long-lost pal. DH and I get out of the van, stretch our legs, lovingly smile at each other and stroke our egos as we comment on a drive well done. The three restless children, who haven't moved in 11 hours, are freed from their back seat bondage. We freshen them up as best we can, considering that the conditions for freshening are 95° temps and blinding sunshine. As the humidity assaults their unaccustomed compositions, I can see them bite their tongues in an attempt to hold back objections to the weather. "After all," I remind them, "Disney World is the 'happiest place on Earth'. If they allowed cranky people to come, it wouldn't be the 'happiest place' anymore. So we need to be worthy of entrance."

I ring the doorbell with great anticipation. This was one of my best friends in high school. We recently reunited through e-mail, and I am very excited about our families meeting. We have discussed how wonderful it will be for our husbands to pal around and our children to play together, and now the day has finally come.

The door opens. We are greeted by my dear friend and her husband, who look as if they were the ones who just made the 11-hour trip. They excuse their appearance and explain that their daughter of 2 years has a flu bug and has been vomiting continuously all night.

I immediately see visions of my three beauties spending our precious days at Disney on the tile floor of our villa bathroom, taking turns puking in the commode. Is it too late to run? Can I somehow pretend that I am not actually the long-lost high school buddy that is expected but a look-alike that has mistakenly ended up on my girlfriend's front step and must be going now? Fourteen years of friendship does not compare in value to six blissful days of Disney, so I figure if she is really offended, the loss will be worth it.

But where will we go? Is it possible to get an instant 2nd mortgage on the house to buy more DVC points, giving us a chance to add today's occupancy of our villa to our reservation?

Quickly I realize that there is no backtracking. We must proceed into the germ-infested abode of my welcoming friend but not before I describe her daughter's condition to my little mouseketeers as something akin to the Bubonic Plague, and I warn them to stay on the opposite side of the house as the sweet, viral darling. I hold my breath, cross my fingers, heart, eyes, say seven Hail Mary's, rub my lucky rabbit's foot, sprinkle pixie dust over each family member and humbly pray to God for protection from viral infestation as we take our first steps inside the lovely, Kissimmee dwelling. Any prior dreams of seeing my children play with my friend's children will be put on hold for another year. We will refrain from any direct contact with the child who currently poses a risk to our greater purpose for this FL visit.

NDM, I love it!! Your writing is funny and entertaining. You and my niece have a talen I wished I possesed. visit her blog (adayinthelifeofacrazedmom.blogspot) In the archives of june and july 97 she has blogs about our trip to WDW.

I think I could be in your family. I love Disney and my friends tease me all the time about my Disney stuff in my house, my Disney jewelry, clothes, etc. Here is a picture of the skirts Mom made us for our last trip.

Hi Carriefunk. I so appreciate your encouragement. I am looking into some options for my writing as it is something I have found to be therapeutic. I will definitely visit your daughter's blogspot . . . us crazy moms have to stick together (lol).

After seeing your festive skirts, I know you could be in my family. Sometimes I swear I am a walking Disney billboard. And I, too, get teased about it. But I take it in stride. The truth is that I know I am ridiculous when it comes to Disney, but I just don't care. Disney puts a smile on my face, and there is nothing wrong with that. Right?