The Guilt Trip of a Lifetime

"Every time you go away you take a piece of me with you." -Paul Young

"She's old enough," we said. That's how we justified it. She's old enough to be without us for a couple of weeks. Sure, she'll be aware that we're gone. She'll definitely miss us. But she'll be just fine. Most important, she'll still have a lot of fun. Without us.

There we are. Young and in love. Venice 2004.
(I still have that shirt.)

So My Director and I went ahead and followed through on a promise we made to each other on our honeymoon. Our favorite place on that whirlwind Italian odyssey was Venice. But we were there for just two days. "I wish we had more time here," we said at the time. So we promised each other we'd come back for our tenth anniversary. We even shook on it. Or pinky swore. I can't remember exactly. There was definitely a lot of wine involved.  Either way, it was clearly a binding agreement.

You never know where you're going to be ten years from now when you make promises like that with your spouse. Financially, physically, or professionally. You can never know. Peanut wasn't even a glint in our eyes when we made that promise to each other, and ourselves.  So as we sat on our couch shortly after New Year's this year, contemplating whether we should follow through, it was she who weighed mostly on our decision.

Every time I think about her, talk about her, choose to write about her, or do anything at all in fact, it is with Peanut in mind. And anytime I think, talk , write, or do, it dawns on me that she will be this age only once. I want to savor every last moment in time with her and of her. All through her life I've done this. Not so much lamenting. But enjoying. Documenting. Mentally, pictorially, and verbally. Beaming with pride and amazement. We recently watched some videos of her from when she was a baby. What a wonderfully magical yet simple time. How much joy she brought us. How truly blessed we are to have witnessed her discover this awesome world, and for us to rediscover it along with her. Reliving these memories didn't make me sad. It made me thankful. It also made me realize how many times I must have squealed a high-pitched, "yay!" during Peanut's babydom.

I am also thankful to have had those two weeks in Europe with My Director. From Venice we went on

Paris 2013. Still young. Still in love.
(I wear glasses now.)

to Geneva and then Paris. I like to think our marriage is strong, but I also believe all couples need time away. Alone. To reconnect, rekindle, and have an actual conversation during a meal without someone who is either complaining about their dinner or forgetting basic details of their day. All of that being said, I am sad to not have had those two weeks with Peanut. While in hindsight I do not think this trip was for her (a subject for another blog post), that doesn't mean we didn't think of her. Especially during down time and on travel days, we both found ourselves missing her a lot.

The one time we managed to connect via Skype a few days into our trip (communicating was much more difficult than we had anticipated), we could tell by the look on her face that she was so excited to see us. She was missing us, but putting up a strong front without us. That's my girl. She stayed with my sister and her family at what we called "Zia camp." (Zia is aunt in Italian.) Her second week was spent in Wildwood, NJ on vacation with my extended family. A vacation we normally attend. Besides that shaky Skype call that cut out after five minutes, her only true contact with us for two weeks was a daily letter we each wrote her, one for every day we were gone. We wrote them before we left. Some were funny. Some were informational. Some were sentimental. And some were accompanied by gifts inspired either by where in the world we were or she was. Turns out, this was a very good idea. Peanut loved her letter every day and looked forward to that little bit of interaction with us.

My sister said Peanut was very well-behaved. A pleasure. A true joy. This came as no surprise to us. She also adopted our policy of not saying no on vacation, so Peanut never had to wear what she didn't want to wear. Those dresses My Director packed for dinners out, for instance, stayed in the bag. (Peanut currently prefers an active chic look.)

Back-at-home-for-first-tim-together selfie

When we returned, Peanut looked so different from when we left her. Her hair was more blonde from the sun. She was tanned from her vacation. She looked older. Rarely one to be outwardly affectionate, she hugged us both very hard and buried her head into My Director's chest when we first saw her. And because she comes from a long line of guilt trippers, every time we asked her about her vacation she would say, "But you guys went on an adventure. I didn't get to go on an adventure." Way to lay it on thick, kid.

Later that weekend, Peanut and My Director baked a birthday cake for me. We had a belated celebration since we were in Paris on my actual birthday. Peanut knew exactly how she wanted to decorate it with icing in my favorite color - green. She wrote the names of my favorite sports teams on it and spelled "Happy Birthday Dad," too. When I blew out my candles, I told her I had made a good wish. In following tradition, I didn't tell her what I had wished for. But she was quick to tell us she also made a wish and that it was for "you to never break up our family again."

How cute is this cake she made for me?

Ouch, babe.

We had an amazing time in Europe. But I couldn't help but miss her, and I can't help but think of what I missed. And lament. She is at such a great age. An age of learning and understanding. Of critical thinking and reasoning. Of giggling and joking. Of exploring and discovering. And she's just so adorable. I feel this summer has come and gone like every other before it and all of the ones that are yet to be. Too quickly, yet jam-packed with great memories. We made the most of our time with Peanut. A lemonade stand. A dinosaur park. An amusement park. Camping in the backyard. But more often I feel her drifting away. Already.

At age six she has such a busy social life. Between after school activities and play dates, I could go days sometimes without quality Peanut time. There are days where I'll skip the gym to come home early if the weather is nice, only to find her at a friend's house or with a friend over at ours. It's our own little real-life "Cats in the Cradle." And then I lament some more. Then again, there are few sounds I enjoy more than Peanut and a friend giggling at each other in some far off corner of the house. Or even better, hearing her channel her mom's diplomacy and settle a difference of opinion without drama, making her guest feel at home.

As Peanut grows older I realize I want her involved in our once-in-a- lifetime memories from now on. Soon enough she will be making those memories on her own. Our choices cost me some of the best and most precious days of her lifetime. As much as we may try there is no getting them back. I realize this is a nice problem to have. That I am complaining about an otherwise awesome vacation with My Director. Still, no more leaving Peanut behind. I miss her too much. There will come a time where she'll leave us behind. I'll miss her then too. At least I won't have the guilt.

Oddly enough, last summer I wrote a post about being away from her for ONE NIGHT and missing her. You can read it HERE.

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We Took the Road Less Traveled

"Where troubles melt like lemon drops, high above the chimney tops. That's where you'll find me."- from Somewhere Over the Rainbow

I was tired, hot, cranky, and annoyed. (I'm sure this comes as no surprise.) This was not my idea of a vacation. This is not how we had said we would spend our 10th Anniversary celebration. My Director had totally hijacked our day and dedicated it to shopping. No...looking for the perfect gift to repay my sister and brother-in-law for watching Peanut for the two weeks we were away. This is one area where we, and I believe most men and women, differ. Shopping. I don't look for things. I think of what I want ahead of time and I set off to buy things. Or, I see something and impulsively say, "I'm going to buy that," finances willing. But I never say, "I want something like this so I'm going to go look for it." That's just a waste of time. Nonsense.

Yet, here we were. Immersed in nonsense.

This is 1 of nearly 6,000 identical stores.
But look at her in her cute hat. I can't stay mad at her.

We were on the island of Murano, the place in Venice famous for its hand-blown glass. And My Director had taken a one-way boat to Nutsville, obsessed with buying a set of glasses. We went into every store, on a mission. It was maddening because all of these stores are the same, except for infinitesimal differences in each figurine, light fixture, or piece of jewelry. I was stuck in Venetian Groundhog Day and I needed out. So I threw a bit of a tantrum. Albeit, a strategic, impassioned, but sympathetic tantrum. To my surprise, it actually worked.

Still, I was tired, hot, cranky, and annoyed as we boarded a boat to head back to mainland Venice, Piazza San Marco. First we had to make one last stop at "Murano Faro." This is the only place where you get a boat to the island of Burano. One of my wishes for our trip was to go to Burano, because it's little known, quiet, far away. But at this point, in the state I was in (the "done with shopping" state), I felt defeated and resigned to go back.

This selfie proves there were actually more happy
moments on Murano than not. (And that I am terribly bald.)

"Last chance," My Director called to me. "If you want Burano we have to get off here. Now."

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Par for the Course

Playing miniature golf with Peanut is finally fun. She's able to play on her own. She's not a sore loser. And she genuinely enjoys it. But she does have trouble counting strokes. 

Let the video replay provide the evidence. Count the strokes, then see how many Peanut says she did it in:

She clearly completed that hole in four strokes, with an impressive shot to finish it if I do say so myself. There are two other videos just like this one. And I only started recording her antics after she had done this on several previous holes. I'm not sure if summer has sapped her counting skills, or if she's a cunning cheater disguised as a diplomatic, for-love-of-the game little girl. Either way, My Director and I are now vigilant, watching her every move on the golf course. 

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Vacation All I Ever Wanted

This year has not gotten off to the start I had anticipated. January was a tougher-than-expected month. While I try to embrace a renewed sense of optimism that comes with New Year's Day, some forces took hold of me shortly thereafter. A combination of work stress, winter blahs, and frustration and boredom of the routine conspired to make that month not as productive, and unfortunately not as embraced, as I would have hoped.

Then February came. I was managing to shake free of those blahs. We even faced and conquered the blizzard that dumped more than a foot of snow on us. But soon thereafter, I was struck with Man Cold. This winter is kicking my a$$. (You may have also noticed I haven't been blogging as regularly as you've come to expect.) While I don't like to complain about the weather since we choose to live here in the northeast, this winter has been the clincher, convincing My Director and I to move someplace warmer when it's time to retire. We may even start taking warm-weather vacations starting next winter. And that got me thinking of warmer times in warmer climates:

Nearly a year ago, we went on our DKL Disney Adventure.

Last summer, Peanut declared one day in particular the Best Day Ever.

One of my favorite memories with Peanut was when we decided to  Go Fly a Kite.

A whirlwind, cross-continental, two-country trip taught me a very valuable lesson. It's What I Learned on My Summer Vacation.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Unused Tickets

"If you think summer next year will look like summer last year, it won't." NJ Gov. Chris Christie on Friday

Tomorrow is not guaranteed, let alone next summer. Gov. Christie's sobering reality check about the long road to rebuilding the shore is just the latest hit to life as we know it in New Jersey.

Every year for Easter, my mom gets each of her grandchildren a 100-pack of tickets for the rides on Casino Pier in Seaside Heights, NJ. The tickets go on sale early - for half price - in the spring. My mom, like me, can't pass up a bargain:

Notice the Easter Bunny on the ticket book.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Reaching New Heights

I am a feet-on-the-ground kind of guy. But when faced with a death-defying stunt that would force me to push my limits, overcome my fears, and teach my daughter something all at once, I was all-in. Ok I admit, I was a little in. You see, I am not one to back down from a challenge. So I'd be lying if I said this story doesn't start with some good-old fashioned hubris and machismo.

My Director, Peanut, and I spent  a long weekend in Lake George, NY with two other families over Columbus Day. One of the days we spent at Fright Fest at an amusement park called The Great Escape. Fright Fest is appropriate because after a few rides with the kids I found myself face to face with this:

Zoiks

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: One Last Summer As My Baby

I came down with a stubborn case of nostalgia this summer. Not helping matters, one night I was looking through baby pictures. (I needed one for a blog post. This post, as a matter of fact.) As I right-clicked my way through Peanut's baby years in a matter of minutes, it hit me. Where did the time go? Where did my baby go? I remember these times so vividly. I remember her so vividly. Baby Peanut. Toddler Peanut. Demon Tantrum Refuses-to-Potty-Train Peanut. Fond memories. Mostly. I tried not to break down. Like on the first day of school, I felt myself getting choked up. But I choked that shizz right back down again.

When Peanut graduated daycare, she looked so grown up standing on that stage receiving her fake diploma. As a result of that image, I decided to call the past few months "one last summer as my baby." I knew it's where I would witness some small steps, but giant leaps for Peanut-kind. And I wanted to make sure to remember them. But most important, enjoy them. I'm glad for these memories. For capturing these moments in time. And for having one last summer as my baby:

She went night swimming with her cousin and
thought it was the coolest thing ever.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: The Great Outdoors

On paper, or blog site, it sounds like a good idea. Make a lasting memory and have a little summer fun at a relatively low cost. I'm talking about going camping... in the backyard. Not this:

This looks horrible

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Our New Addition

"They want you to cook the dinner; at least they ought to let you shop for some of the groceries. " -Bill Parcells

That quote is from one of the best football coaches in my lifetime, explaining why he also wanted to be general manager of the team and pick the players he was coaching. "Shop for some of the groceries," if you will. That is why I do the food shopping in our house. I cook the meals, so it makes sense that I shop for the groceries.

I have it down to a science. I go alone. I am usually in and out in 45 minutes. (Remember: I don't lollygag. Ever.) I also do my own bagging and unloading. (The kitchen is my domain. And I'm a control freak.) I keep a running list of items we need on a pad of paper hanging on the refrigerator.

The quality of my penmanship is inversely
proportional to the urgency with which I am writing.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Winning the Big One

There are times when My Director will do something, pull of a feat, and I will be so proud, so full of love, so damn attracted to her. This is the story of one of those times.

We had taken Peanut to an amusement park during our beach vacation earlier this month. She's now reached the age where she gets excited for the rides and the games. And not just that silly pick-a-duck-and-win-a-prize-every-time game. Peanut needs to be challenged. Better yet, she needs me to be challenged. She also needs to be entertained. She needs to swing a mallet in an effort to send a plastic frog hurtling into a faux lilly pad.

That was her game of choice. Until she saw this guy:

"Daddy, I want to win a Minion." (Meaning, "Daddy, I want YOU to win me a Minion.")

"OK. Let's use up our tokens for the rides first, then we'll try to win you that Minion."

My Director, the realist trying not to get our daughter's hopes up told her, "I don't know sweetheart. That game is hard."

The game was this:

Can you believe I didn't get a picture of it?
So I got this one from here.

You had to throw oversized whiffle balls onto the table. Get it in the red circle in the middle, you get your choice of prize. Hit one of the blue ones, we're taking home that Minion. Not easy, mind you. But certainly nothing a world-class half-marathon-running, former backyard whiffle ball champion like myself can't handle.

The dreamer in me took over after declaring, "You can't win if you don't try, mommy."

"Yeah, mommy," Peanut chimed in. Boom.

So I ordered up the biggest bucket of whiffle balls they have. Nine for $5.

"That's a lot," was the best Mrs No-fun had to offer.

"More chances to win that Minion," I said confidently.

My first throw sank into the abyss of one of the white tubes. Then my second. Peanut failed to even reach the table. We kept asking for do-overs after her throws. The kids working the game graciously appeased us. At one point Peanut even hit a giant stuffed hot pepper that was wearing a fireman's helmet. We were, I must admit, pathetic. At this point. that Minion was a pipe dream.

"This is ridiculous," announced My Director, exasperated.

That's when she grabbed a ball and, barely looking, tossed it backhanded. Just guess where it landed. In the red hole in the middle. On the fly. ON THE FREAKIN FLY, for crying out loud. You can give me 50 balls and I probably wouldn't hit the red hole, let alone ON THE FREAKIN FLY.

My Director? First try. First toss. Barely looking. Backhanded. On the fly. Boom. I immediately started lobbying for the hot tamale with the fireman's hat. But Peanut settled for this ladybug pillow pet:

It did come in handy when we moved onto another beach house where pillows were lacking. Let me just say that thing is soft and cozy and I was as comfortable as could be in a beach house twin bed from the 1950s. Or, as Peanut said, quoting Despicable Me, "It's so fluffy I'm gonna die!"

"IT'S SO FLUFFY!"

But our story does not end there. Remember, we're here for a Minion. Peanut and I each take another turn, with no luck. That's when My Director, hot off her pillow-pet-clinching toss, grabbed another whiffle ball in her beautifully manicured hand, and gently tossed it over the rail, onto the table, where it promptly landed in a blue hole.

That Minion is ours:

Proud mom and daughter with their prize

Like I said, I was full of pride, love and a little turned on. "This may be the proudest I've ever been of you," I stated.

"Really?" She deadpanned.

"Well, besides giving birth, this is the most amazing thing I've ever seen you do."

"Yeah, mommy," said our happy little movie aficionado. "You're just like Gru:"

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The DKL #Disney Adventure

We had finally done it. We had finally bitten the bullet and given in. Not only did we take Peanut to Disney World, but we took her to celebrate her fifth birthday, no less. So much for not spoiling the kid. So much for being fiscally responsible. Circumstances made us realize life is short, that she's only this age once, and we should strike while she her princess-loving iron is still hot.

So, for five days, four nights, we basically tortured our child for her birthday:

She wouldn't wake up on morning #2

She slept any chance she got

Our first full day brought us to the Magic Kingdom. It was Peanut's actual birthday. So we booked a fun breakfast where we got to meet Winnie the Pooh and friends:

The least he could do is put on some pants

We made sure to hide the bacon
when Piglet came around

Full bellies didn't stop us from braving the rides. Shortly after breakfast, we learned that Peanut's favorite was - drum roll, please - Pirates of the Caribbean. Surprise, surprise:

We got caught in cannonball crossfire

Lammie got put in jail

As we left those scalawags behind and headed back out into the now-afternoon sun, My Director, eternal head of our itinerary, declared, "We're going to go spend some time in Fantasy Land now."

To which I responded, "Will you be changing into a plaid skirt and knee highs?" (Rawr.)

More than four months after our whirlwind Disney Adventure, we're still talking about it in the DKL household. Peanut still asks when we're going back. Good question, Peanut. How about getting a job and pitching in some coin? (We just keep saying "soon.") We'll see how long that works.

((DISCLAIMER: This is the third in my summer series of "retrospective" list posts. If you haven't guessed already, this week's topic is our trip to Disney World.))

The first thing you need to know about the trip is that I only agreed to go if we went with my in-laws. You read that right. And I insisted that we stay in the same room with them. You read that right too. I had good reasons, but still, "What the Hell Was I Thinking?"

That decision, you might imagine, left my mom excluded from the trip. Granted, I probably made some missteps in the execution of this very delicate part of our plan. Still, the ensuing conversations with her led me to dub my mom "Queen of the Guilt Trip."

Once in Disney our mission was clear: find and meet as many princesses as possible. But nothing could have prepared us for what we saw when we came face-to-face with Cinderella and her family. Prepare to laugh at "Castle Confidential."

I went to great lengths - literally - to make sure Peanut met her favorite princess. You can see more in "The Princesses and the Peanut Gallery."

The trip was not without its internal family drama. In fact, Peanut and I both had a meltdown at the same ride, at the same time. I call it "The Splash Mountain Double Meltdown."

When we got back home, Peanut and I were discussing which dinner show we liked the best. She seemed to have a selective memory about her enjoyment of one them, creating a "A Difference of Opinion."

Finally, I thought it was appropriate to put all of my advice into a rare "tips" post. But it still has the same humor and sentiment you've come to expect from DKL. Maybe I should do it more often, since this is one of my most popular posts ever. Here are my "20 Things I Wish I Knew Before I Went to Disney."

To catch up on my other summer Monday retrospective lists: this one is about Christmas and this one is about My Director.

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A Day Without Sunshine

"Sometimes it's so easy to let a day slip on by without even seeing each other at all." -Billy Joel

Things just aren't right. It's too quiet. I have too much time on my hands.

Not a creature was stirring

As I got ready for work one morning, the door to Peanut's room was wide open. I had no reason to go in there but I did anyway. There was her bed, empty. Perfectly made. Most of her stuffed animals that keep her company each night are gone too. They were all still down at the beach with my in-laws. Peanut and all of her friends.

You think you're going to enjoy this time alone, just the two of you. (Three, with Luna.) But the void could not be ignored. It hit us on our way to a friend's party that we stopped at on our way home the night we left Peanut at the beach with my in-laws. Everyone commenting on how nice it will be for us to have alone time; everyone joking that we'll have a second child nine months from now. (We won't. Trust me.)

Don't get me wrong, having a couple of days off is nice. There was no need to rush home for pickup or to make dinner. We ordered out and were able to do the daily chores: walk the dog, water the lawn, clean up the kitchen, guilt-free and hassle-free.

Still, we miss our crazy little Peanut. Not having her here is so foreign. But this is just the beginning, isn't it? Kindergarten in the fall. That's a whole new ballgame. Homework. Sleepovers I'm sure are not far behind. Maybe day camp next summer? At least a week or two with her grandparents. Maybe even my sister in Virginia. There she goes already. My little Peanut. Old enough to have an entire day or two without me, without us.

Not that she didn't miss us. When we talked to her on the phone that night, she informed us that she had told my in-laws that she missed us no less than five times that day. Not bad. If my math is correct, that's about once every two hours up to that point. So she's not going too far just yet.

I've reached the point in my life where I have lived away from my parents more than I have lived with them. When I visit their house, my old house, it seems foreign. When we visit I often feel like a stranger in my old neighborhood. Everything looks so different now. Or older. That tree is gone. That house is a different color. That storefront is empty.

Peanut has a while before she reaches that point. But it goes by so fast, doesn't it? My goodness I feel like it was just yesterday we were picking a town based on the schools. And now she's going to one of them in September.

One night at the beach, we went out for ice cream. We got caught in a torrential downpour. One of the fiercest thunderstorms I had ever seen. And the radar showed that it had apparently just hit the island we were on. So we waited in the swagger wagon for the storm to pass. Sheets of rain, strong wind, hail, flooding. You name it, this storm had it. All in a matter of a few minutes.

Peanut got scared. She started to cry. "I want to go home," she said through her tears. We thought she meant back to the beach house. "We can't, honey," I said. "The street is all flooded. Besides, the car is the safest place to be right now."

"No. I want to go back to OUR house." Back home. Where it's safe. Where she's loved. Where she's home.

Back where she belongs.

There's no place else she'd rather be. There's no place else we'd rather have her. That empty nest can wait.

Being away from Peanut reinforces our decision to go "hands-free" when we ARE with her. I wrote about that here.  (Full Disclosure: We've admittedly been slacking a bit lately.)

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Every Shell Tells a Story

Peanut and I were collecting shells on the beach earlier this month on her self-proclaimed "best day ever." As I picked up a shell I thought I'd attempt to get philosophical with my five year-old:

'"You know, Peanut. Every shell has a story to tell." 

What I meant was, they've been places and done things... in the past...

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Best Day Ever

We arrived for a brief beach vacation last Saturday afternoon. (Brief for me and My Director. We had to go back to work on July 5th while Peanut stayed with my in-laws.) Almost immediately, Peanut wanted to go to the beach. So after we unpacked, we suited up, lathered up, and headed up the block and over the dunes.

We played in the waves for more than an hour. Peanut was in her glory, but we had to get back to the house for dinner. So Peanut bid adieu to the beach for now by performing a "sand angel." A shower quickly followed.

The next day, bright and early, Peanut asked me every five minutes if we could go to the beach. A full day of fun in the sun was in order. Once I had eaten breakfast, inhaled coffee, and had my mandatory "reading time" in the bathroom, we left. We arrived so early, we had beaten the lifeguards. As the three of us waded in the crashing waters of the Atlantic Ocean, Peanut holding our hands either for support or to catapult herself higher over the waves, she boldly declared this "the best day ever." Already. It wasn't even 10am.

Here are some of the highlights.

Stars and stripes forever

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20 Things I Wish I Knew Before I Went to #Disney

It took our first family trip to Disney World for me to write a "tips" post. Enough people have asked me for advice since we've returned to convince me to put a bunch of the information in one place. As you may know, having gone to Disney once now makes me an expert on the subject. So don't fear, Disney rookie, you will soon be an expert just like me.

I took this picture. Not bad, eh?

We went for five days, four nights. We stayed at the Polynesian Resort and we saved a lot of money by staying in the same room with my in-laws. Yes, the same room. It actually wasn't nearly as bad as it sounds or as I feared. Except we did catch my mother-in-law snoring like Donald Duck one night. Other than that, the room was peachy.

So without further ado, here's what else I wish I knew before I went to Disney: (I linked all of the attractions I mention to the Disney site.)

1. Don't buy one of those how-to guide books. Have one of your wife's friends lend you one. Either way, use this one. My Director found it most helpful. What she didn't find most helpful was my not reading a single word of it despite her repeated requests. As great as it was for planning our activities and itineraries (it was the Bible, according to her), it addressed none of the rest of the things on my list.

2. At some point on your trip, you will feel like you are torturing your child(ren). He/she/they will be exhausted. You will keep pushing them. It's what we do to create those magical memories. Expect a meltdown or two. Or 37. YOU will also have a meltdown. Or two. Totally normal. Just make it quick, pull yourself together, and move on. 

3. Since utter exhaustion is a definite, and the amazing fireworks in the Magic Kingdom are a must, I would plan on seeing them early in the trip. First night. We went our last night. Peanut was as mad as she was mesmerized. I don't know how much sleep your kids want or need, but Peanut is a champion sleeper. Eleven hours at night. And she STILL takes a 2-3 hour nap some days. This trip, she got 8-9 hours per night max, with cat naps in the stroller here and there. She was excited to be there that first night. We should have struck while the iron was hot. Whenever you do go, the fireworks are a must. And they're free. (Or there's no extra charge wink wink.) Find a way to see them.

We were not alone in our
stroller dependency

4. The stroller. There are two very divided and very passionate camps: People who swear by it, and people who refuse to even consider it as an option. We swear by it (see #3). And because Peanut is sleepy and moody (see her dad), it was a lifesaver. As soon as she was tired or cranky, we'd stick her in there as we went from place to place. She'd snap out of it after about a half an hour. 

Snow White first thing
in the morning

5. On days you're going to be at the Magic Kingdom, get there when it opens. (Or before it opens if you're staying at a Disney resort.) Lines aren't that bad and the kids should be raring to go. It was great. You can hit up a character or two with very little wait because a bunch of them spread out on Main Street USA when you get there. We met Snow White like this one day and Pinocchio another.

Peanut & Pluto
at Epcot Character Spot

6. Speaking of characters, you don't have to spend a lot of time stalking them if you know where they are and when. For example, there is a Character Spot in Epcot where we met Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Goofy, and Pluto. All at once. We waited half an hour and got those five biggies banged out. (The time of day we went also helped - See #15 below.) You can really streamline your character stalking by hitting them up at set times and places. There is a daily schedule of which characters you can meet and where at the entrance to the parks. (This also helped us catch Tinker Bell, another Peanut favorite.)

Who's psyched for Tigger?

7. You can also bang out a lot of characters at meals. If you have character meals planned, you'll get a majority of your autographs and pictures then. If your kids like Winnie the Pooh, we did the breakfast at Crystal Palace in Magic Kingdom one morning. We met Pooh, Tigger, Eeyore, and Piglet. This was great. Food was good too.

The princess motherload

8. If you're stalking princesses like we were, you can hit the princess motherload like we did in Norway at Epcot. We had a meal at the Akurshus Royal Banquet Hall with Belle, Ariel, Aurora, Snow White, and Cinderella. (You can see pictures here.) This was very nicely done too. They do a similar one in the castle in Magic Kingdom. That one fills up quickly. So this one was our only choice, and it was not a disappointment. It also wasn't crowded. BONUS: There is a great little Viking boat ride called Maelstrom right outside of the restaurant. We lucked out. It was raining and there was no line. We rode it twice in a row. It was a Peanut favorite. (DOUBLE BONUS: That reminds me: Epcot is great if it's raining or really hot because you can spend big chunks of time indoors.)

9. For more princesses, we went to Cinderella's Happily Ever After Dinner at 1900 Park Fare at the Grand Floridian Hotel. Prince Charming and the wicked stepmother and stepsisters were also there. We weren't impressed with the food, and Peanut and My Director like to say Prince Charming was "not so charming." But what made this one worth it was the stepsisters. They were so funny and entertaining. Book these things way in advance.

10. Speaking of food, I would only plan a sit-down breakfast if characters are involved. And when I say "characters," I'm not talking about your in-laws. Eating a long breakfast isn't worth it to me. Grab a yogurt,  granola bar, and/or a piece of fruit, get to the park and get things done. Our meal plan allowed one sit-down, one "quick dining" meal (like fast food-type places), and one snack per day. This is plenty. Some days it's too much. I'm a hungry dude in general and I was fine on the days we followed this routine.

11. If you do a big breakfast, with characters for example, then don't do a sit-down dinner that night. It's just too much eating and sitting. It all depends on how long you're staying and whether you're on a meal plan and which one. But I'd rather eat on the go and have one sit-down meal each day. I don't like sitting around when there's stuff to do. Stopping to eat annoyed me. Peanut was fine with a quick breakfast and then mostly snacks. But I think the meal plan is worth the money for convenience, and for not having to pay when you're there.

12. Because I have very little patience, I was annoyed when we'd arrive 10 minutes early for our dinner reservations (because My Director and I are highly organized. See #1) and then end up getting seated 10-15 minutes later than our reservation. So DON'T be efficient like we were. Arrive on time and expect to wait a little. You'll be less annoyed.

13. Leave some nights open to walk around the park. We had a big dinner planned every night, whether it was at a restaurant or a show. While all of our dinners were enjoyable and/or entertaining, in hindsight I wouldn't do that. Grabbing a burger or whatever for a quick bite on one or two nights would have been fine with me. I didn't like being prisoner to a meal schedule every night. So next time, I won't book a dinner every night we're there.

14. Use fast pass when you can. You don't want to be waiting in line with young children for more than a half an hour. Fast pass eliminated that and makes excellent use of your time. And it's easy. Especially when Magic Kingdom gets busy. And get the fast pass for Soarin' in Epcot. It's amazing. Revolve your day around doing it. It's worth it. (40" minimum height)

15. We lucked out and went to Epcot in the early evening one day and it was dead. No lines. (See #6.) We hit Spaceship Earth, the Character Spot I mentioned above, a Nemo ride that Peanut loved, we talked to Crush the Turtle, and rode another ride in The Land. All in the three hours we had to kill before dinner. So consider that time of day for Epcot.

16. Animal Kingdom (if you're going) can also be done in a half a day. The Safari is great. The Everest coaster there is cool. (But Space Mountain is still better.) There's more to see than do. It's a good change-of-pace park. Especially if you have an animal lover like we do. BONUS: If you have a Nemo lover like we do, the Nemo musical in Animal Kingdom is a must. It's indoors so you can cool off and rest if your little one is getting grumpy.

17. Prepare for the pool at the hotel to be your kids' favorite thing. Every day around noon, Peanut would ask us if we could go back and swim in the pool. And by 3 or 4, we were swimming for an hour. Those swims were some of the most memorable parts of the trip for me. (And once again, they cost "nothing" wink wink.)

18. If you want to see and hear your child belly laugh, I mean really cackle, taken him/her to Monsters Inc. Laugh Floor in TomorrowLand.

19. If you're not following Daddy's in Charge, go do it. Then ask him any other questions you might have. He goes to Disney more than Super Bowl MVPs do. In fact, part of the expansion of FantasyLand includes a condo for him and his family. He is a great resource for anything and everything Disney. Post questions on his Facebook wall. Or tweet him. He will happily answer you. So will I.

20. Last but not least, you will NOT get to do everything on your list. Understand that before you get on that plane to Orlando. I thought I did. I obviously didn't. Trust me. And just know that if you don't get to something, it'll just give you a reason to go back.

Bonus: Prepare to spend more money than you would ever dream of spending on silly trinkets, unhealthy treats, and ridiculous souvenirs. For instance, I was in my right mind when I didn't hesitate to fork over $10 for a Mickey Mouse balloon as if it were my destiny. All to make Peanut smile after she had tripped and skinned her elbow.

Me, Peanut, and the $10 balloon
that just wouldn't die

That balloon lasted the entire trip. And to ensure we didn't waste it, we gave it to a family who was just arriving at our hotel as we were leaving for the airport.

One last thing: You're going to Disney World. You've invested thousands of dollars in this trip. Why say no? The word "no" is one thing we don't bring on vacation. It's very unlike us, but it's wonderful. That rule started on Peanut's first big trip, which I wrote about here.

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The Princesses and THE PEANUT GALLERY

About a week before her 5th birthday, Peanut told me she wanted to be a veterinarian when she grows up.  That was the first time she had ever answered that question with an actual profession. I was psyched. I was impressed. I thought it was so cool, in fact, that I mentioned it in the post I wrote for her 5th birthday.

Recently, I asked her the same question again. This time, she changed her answer... to princess. Now she wants to be a freakin' princess when she grows up?! "What happened to being a veterinarian?" I asked."

"Daddy, I just want to be a princess ok?"

Immediately, alarm bells went off in my head. But I bit my tongue. The Disney trip euphoria still runs through her veins. And My Director assured me not to worry... that it's ok to dream at her age. As usual, she's right. (Every time I write that she's right an angel gets its wings.)

I understand the arguments about the stereotypes, the negative messages, etc. And why some parents want to avoid exposing their daughters to the princesses at all cost. Not only do I hear you, I was with you. This whole princess thing just happened innately. We didn't buy her any doll, dress her in any costume, or show her any movie. But despite our best efforts, she gravitated towards them. It's in her DNA I guess. Fine.

So we are firmly entrenched in the "let her enjoy the fantasy until the cold hard truth of reality smacks her in the face" camp. That cold hard truth will come from us one day. We'll have to tell her that life isn't a fairy tale. That your prince may never come. And if he does, "happily ever after" is all relative.

But that can wait. So for now, Peanut is a princess. And that's not so bad. After all, every time she plays dress-up she makes me her king. Not too shabby for a guy who grew up in a middle-class blue-collar family. And there's no arguing with the look on Peanut's face when she met the princesses in Disney World:

Aurora

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The Splash Mountain Double Meltdown

"How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!" -William Shakespeare


These things happen. Tantrums. Moods. Or as I'm about to describe, meltdowns. They're part of parenting. Sometimes you can anticipate them, even prepare for them like an approaching thunderstorm. Then there are times when no amount of preparation can prevent the debacle that follows.

So close. Yet so far away.

What makes this double meltdown story ironic is it took place in the so-called "happiest place on earth." That's right: Walt Disney World. More specifically, The Magic Kingdom. Splash Mountain to be exact.

It was day four of our whirlwind Disney adventure. After three days of non-stop, drag-your-child-to-every-possible-attraction family fun, I somehow woke up rejuvenated that morning. This would be our last day in the Magic Kingdom. And even though My Director is the one who planned most of the itinerary before and during the trip, I had decided to flex a little muscle. What can I say? I was feeling ambitious.

I seized the map of the park like a greedy pirate of the Caribbean and checked to see which "grown-up" rides Peanut was tall enough to go on. And there it was. My buried treasure: Splash Mountain, in all of its 40" minimum height requirement glory. Peanut just met the requirement. My mission was clear: ride this ride with Peanut at any and all costs because a) she's going to love it and b) I remember riding it with my parents and loving it.

Best to keep a grumpy Peanut in a bubble.

But a funny thing happened on the way to Frontier Land... we decided to spend the morning in Tomorrow Land because a certain large child (me) wanted to ride Space Mountain before the line got too long. And that plan backfired because when it was my time to conquer Splash Mountain with Peanut, she had already begun a downward spiral like she did every day in the early afternoon. You see, a Walt Disney World vacation is equal parts torture and amusement for a child. You keep her up until way past her bedtime and then you wake her up after she's had a lot less sleep than she's used to. You finally get her dressed and fed but she's still wearing her cranky pants while you push her in the stroller. She loves the monorail so that starts to snap her out of it. Then you get her to the park and she's as ready as she'll ever be. For the rides and the heat and the shows and the walking and the characters. Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin. A picture with Chip and Dale. The Monster's Inc. Laugh Floor. (highly recommended.)

It's all my fault. I kept telling My Director that I wanted a memory with Peanut, just me and her. That's where I was treading in dangerous waters. Expectations can come back to bite you where the briar patch hurts the most. Besides, I was rolling the dice sending us to Tomorrow Land first. And they came up snake eyes.

We finally arrived at the foot of Splash Mountain.  The wait was just a half an hour. I had timed it perfectly. There would be no other time to do this given what we had planned the rest of the trip. Peanut, having come down from the euphoria of Tomorrow Land and having just met Tinker Bell, had entered moodyville. To make matters worse, My Director wasn't feeling well either. And Peanut is an "I want mommy to go on too" kind of girl. Still, I persisted. My Director insisted. Peanut resisted. Had Peanut just waited in line with me, she would have worked herself out of her mood by the time we boarded our log.

Instead, she cried because My Director couldn't go with us. Then she refused to listen when I tried to explain how much fun we'd have and how she'd love it just like she loved the Log Flume at Great Adventure last summer. Nope. All I got was a stone-cold, furrowed-browed, thumb-in-the-mouth refusal.

Since I took so many pictures of grumpy Peanut,
My Director took a picture of me every time I was grumpy.
This is me hours after "Splash Mountain," still not over it.

Disappointed, it was now time for my meltdown. And I was in rare form. This is what I was looking forward to all day. For two days in fact. And she ruined my good time, my moment, my memory. And I basically said as much loud enough for her to hear me in her stroller. When My Director tried to be the voice of reason, I shouted her down. I actually said, "No. I want her to feel guilty. I want her to know that I can't go on a ride because of her selfishness." Incidentally, I am still accepting letters of recommendation for my father of the year application, if you're so inclined.

Not my proudest moment as a parent, to say the least.

The day after we returned home, I drove Peanut to school. Her friends were so happy to see her after she had been away for five days. Some of them came rushing up to us. Knowing we were in Disney World, they immediately bombarded us with questions. The first - and last - one I fielded was from a classmate who had recently been to Disney with his family. He looked me right in the eyes with a big smile and said, "Did you go on Splash Mountain?!"

Still a little bitter from the double meltdown that occurred less than 48 hours earlier, my heart immediately sank, my smile suddenly faded, my mood totally changed, "No," I said coldly. "We didn't get to that one."

I'm over it now. Mostly. And if Peanut remembers this incident, she doesn't talk about it. She remembers the good times. That's perfect. At least we have a reason to go back.

I have more proof of Peanut only remembering the positive from our trip. You can read about it here.

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A Difference of Opinion

This is a recent conversation between me and Peanut while on one of our walks with Luna. We were discussing our favorite dinner show from our Disney trip:

"Daddy I like the Luau."

"Really? I thought you liked the Hoop-Dee-Doo Revue?"

"I like both."

"But if you had to choose one, which would you choose?"

"Both."

"I know you like both. But if you could only choose one, which one would it be?"

"Both, daddy."

"What if was our last night in Disney? And we could only go to one place for dinner?"

"I would go to both."

"But we can't go to two places for dinner if we only have one night left. So which one would you choose?"

"The Luau."

"Really? But you loved the Hoop-Dee-Doo. You were laughing the whole time."

"Daddy, I like the Luau."

"Well, I like the Hoop-Dee-Doo better. If I had to choose I'd choose that one."

"You don't like the Luau?"

"I like the Luau. I just I like the Hoop-Dee-Doo more. It's called an opinion. You like the Luau. That's your opinion. I like the Hoop-Dee-Doo. That's my opinion. We have different opinions. And that's ok."

Thus ending our first of what I am sure will be many discussions like this. For the record, here's what Peanut looked like when called up on stage to hula with all the kids at the Luau:

Not the least bit amused.

And here she is at the Hoop-Dee-Doo Revue:

Mildly amused (but she DID laugh a lot.)

This is not the first difference of opinion we've had, and certainly not the last. But I think she's decided she likes the Luau because I like the Hoop-Dee-Doo. She knows that sometimes I get irritated when she likes something I don't, like when she decided to cheer for a different football team than me. I also realize that because of this dynamic I may be in serious trouble in the future.

There is no debating we ALL had a good time eating at Cinderella's Royal Table, despite discovering the princess's shocking secret.

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