Lessons from Disney for Life: Eat, Sleep, & Pace Yourself

It's been said that a vacation is a crucible of family life. When a family takes a vacation, all the good things about that family are better; they glow golden. And the not-so-good things? The flaws? The places we need to improve? They stand in stark relief against the very good.

I hope to spend a few days making observations and passing along some ideas fresh from our extended vacation. I hit a few of the biggies here (in a now-expanded, complete with pictures post). Today, I'm going to take on the not-so-good, the bumps in the road where I wish we could have a do-over. There are just two nuggets here.

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Eat, Sleep, and Pace Yourself. The meltdown started on Disney Day 7. We had wonderful lunch in a super-fun place. Spirits were high despite the poor weather. We had made a decision--because of the weather--to go to the Disney Store (the biggest one in the whole world) and allow the children to spend the Christmas money Grandpa and Barbara had designated for Disney World. Everyone else went to the Disney Store that day, too. It was big and noisy and overwhelming. Sarah and Karoline wanted to hold everything they saw while they tried to make decisions. Mike and I were being pulled in six directions and we were trying so hard to please. Some of us were so overwhelmed that we couldn't make a clear-headed decision and left with nothing.

We left Downtown Disney and decided to take the rest of the afternoon and do short return trip to Epcot. After a quick trip back at the hotel to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner, we were off. Mike took the big kids in one direction. I took the littles in another. While standing in line for Nemo inside the aquarium building, I looked at my phone to see what time it was. I noticed I'd missed a text. I read a heartbreaking message from Colleen. Trapped with my little girls in line and no cell service, I swallowed, blinked back tears, and prayed. When I connected with Mike, he took everyone back inside and I went out to make a phone call.

After the call, I tried to pull myself together, but my heart wasn't in it. All the fatigue of the previous week started to gather momentum. The kids were getting increasingly cranky and we decided to eat dinner. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. One of the adults doesn't eat wheat and had neglected to pack anything of substance without it. One of the adults doesn't like jelly with his peanut butter. I've known this fact for about 30 years.  In my efficient assembly line sandwich-making, I'd forgotten. Two hungry and tired adults. Wet, tired, hungry kids. We called it a day and went back to the room. 

I might have dissolved into a sobbing heap. We might have made up and slept hard that night.

Overslept. 

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We needed to hustle to pack up the van and get out of the hotel. Since it had rained the previous day, we'd left Animal Kingdom for the last day. I buckled an exhuasted Sarah back into the Ergo. It was the warmest day we'd had. Not hot, but more uncomfortable than not with a three-year-old strapped in an infant carrier. Everyone was tired. And everyone was sad. We were leaving. Oh, and I had skipped breakfast to pack the van.

My aunt tells me that my cousin has had a meldown in front of the Tree of Life on two separate trips. She's the mom of four little ones. There must be something about mothers of many at Animal Kingdom. The park is designed around this huge (fake) tree. There are spokes to amusements all branching from that tree. If you walk too far, missing the sign telling you your intended destination is down a particular path, it is highly likely you will walk a long way. Indeed, walk a long way very quickly, so as not to miss the FastPass window. Over and over again. Carrying the preschooler. You might be tired. You might miscommunicate with the person you love most in the whole world. And you might keep up the family tradition of falling apart in Animal Kingdom. And then you will be very sad because it was not The Perfect Trip.

I wasn't the only one struggling. I've never been one to tell tales on my family members here, so we'll leave it at that. We'd all had enough. We were all hungry and tired. Too tired. In hindsight, we should have taken the previous day to just eat a good meal  and hang out in the hotel. I think there is a tendency at Disney World to forget that the hotel is a part of the experience. If we'd soaked up a little more hotel and a little less crowded-noisy-crazy, we might have saved the last day from despair. But there is a corollary that is probably even more important for me.

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Lessons from Disney for Life: It Doesn't Have to Be Perfect to Be Very Good

I have tendency to see things in black and white and to be incredibly hard on myself. Either it was the perfect trip or it wasn't. I beat myself up over jelly on peanut butter and miscommunication. I took too personally the expressions of other people's fatigue and hunger. I focused on the imperfections and I might have missed the fact that this trip was very, very good. We returned to my mom's house that night utterly exhausted. We slept. We awoke to a relaxed day and an evening of good food and laughter at my aunt's house. Perspective restored, we drove all the way home the next day, proud that we'd done really good things. 

It might seem strange to begin a series of vacation posts with the end of the trip and the only negatives, but I wanted to make it clear right from the get-go that we are real people with real frailties. I have a couple of close friends who have compared notes with me over the years on the "vacation fight." It happens almost universally (but I'm still shooting for the vacation without one). We've mutually agreed that if any of us texts another with the message "St. Joseph prayers needed now, please" from a family vacation, we are to pray hard. No questions asked. No details necessary. And none given. Stuff happens. Strong families survive and thrive despite the stuff. They might even improve because of the stuff.

We took eight children from 3-19 to Disney World, traveling from DC to Orlando in a big, rented van. It wasn't perfect. But it was good.

Very good.

Bring a Little Magic Home

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I wrote a column while I was in Disney World. I had lots and lots of thoughts about the "magic" and what it means for our everyday lives. I hope to have some time soon to get more of them written so I don't forget. For now, though, there are these few. And for those of you who have commented on the height difference between Mike and me, I'm 5'2". If you read the column, you can do math and know just how far up I gaze;-). 

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Updated to included the full text and some more pictures here:-)

I’m writing this column from Disney World. My husband and I have been here for nearly a week with eight of our children. We have had a truly wonderful time. Some would call it “magical.” Surely, it seems magical, but I know that, despite all evidence to the contrary, there is no magic. There is something else at work here. Since we arrived, I’ve been trying to pin down exactly what forces are at play to create Disney Magic. Although I’m certain that volumes could be written about the topic, I’d like to toss out just three ways that the magic makes our days here incredibly joyous, three things we can take home when we want to bottle it up and bring it north.

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Embrace a passion for creativity and hard work. The parks are sparkling clean and every detail is thoughtfully appointed. It’s more than just good organizational management. It’s a philosophy of creativity, cheerfulness, and work ethic. Every single person who works here knows his or her job and does it cheerfully, with excellence. Disney Magic is what happens when creativity meets diligent hard work in a well-supervised environment.  When confronted with a bump in the road, there isn’t any whining or temper-flaring on the part of the Disney cast. Instead, they work to find a pleasant answer—it’s obvious that they are thinking creatively and it’s obvious that they are putting forth their best efforts to make “magic.” The magic isn’t magic at all; it’s just cheerful hard work. There is an expectation that we will all be cheerful together here and everyone seems to be in on the effort.

 

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Follow Daddy; he’s in the lead. It’s been very crowded despite our best efforts to be here on historically less crowded days. Eight children working their way through the crowds in a place where kids and adults alike are easily distracted can strike terror in everyone’s hearts. In our family, Daddy is 6’4”. He has a different perspective on Disney than anyone else—literally. He can see the bigger picture. He’s also a commanding presence. If he’s pushing the stroller through the crowd, the seas seem to part a little. He’s even keeled. He has a plan and he’s considering everyone’s best interest as we move forward from one experience to the next. It works for Dad to lead.

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A corollary to this principle is to snuggle the wee ones close.  I would have thought that my three-year-old had long since abandoned the frontpack carrier, but that is where she’s been happiest while we’re here.  I have held her close and she’s taken in the sights and sounds from the safety of my arms. It’s done us both a world of good. Almost magically, we are relaxed and we have plenty of energy, despite logging in an average of seven miles of walking a day (no small feat while carrying 25 pounds of toddler). There is much to be said in favor of holding them close for as long they need us.

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You are royalty. Act the part. It didn’t take long for us to figure out the every cast member is trained to refer to a little girl as “princess.” And every single time a ticket taker or waiter or bag checker told them to “have a beautiful day, princess” that little girl would stand up straighter, smile wider and walk with a little spring in her step. They aren’t really magic princesses. But they are daughters of the King. They are heirs to Heaven. Do they know it? Do I? Can we treat each other as such even after we drive north from the magical sunshine of this place into the real workaday world? I hope so. I hope magic can meet memories and we can continue to live the lessons of this vacation.

 

Miss That Pink Link Box?

I so miss Google Share. That was the box on the sidebar where I could just click and instantly you'd know what great stuff I'd bumped into on the web. I can't find a good substitute. Please bear with me as I try to get Delicious to work. In the meantime, here's list to click around:

Let's Hear it for the Dads  I really love those Archbolds and I'm a big fan of dads, so this one rocks.

Design the Life You Want. "It’s true — TV and video games can be addictive. Bad food is definitely addictive. There are downward spirals wherever you look, and they lead to a passive, overweight, consumerist lifestyle. But the good stuff can be just as addictive. Healthy eaters crave healthy food. Kids who play outside every day crave sunshine and wind and trees. Readers crave books. Makers crave time to make. Artists crave time to create." Now get after it! I'm right there with you.

Jen's found a great C. S. Lewis quote.

This one is super-serious. Please pray for Scott Hahn.

Helping Yourself. Kelle Hampton has so nailed where I am right now. Makes me want to get out there and run. Oh yeah, I don't live in Florida. It's sleeting here. Think I'll lock myself in my closet with my stationary bike and headphones. Lalalalalala.

This is just way sad. And this? Oh, I so beg to differ. I think I will. 

Yum. My aunt introduced me to the most amazing gluten-free pasta. Most amazing. My aunt is 110% Italian and she's an excellent cook. Even she agreed that this was really good. Not "really good for gluten free" but really good.

Sweet Keenan. We love this girl so much. Add her to the list of homeschooled celebrities. Oh, and before she was famous, she was an illustrator for Real Learning.

Sigh. I'd love to be at craft night Dawn's.

Speaking of crafting, Mike's going to do a bit of DIY.

I am obsessed with all things Anna Maria Horner. It's crazy. And during my current knitting fast, I've been drawn to embroidery. So, this announcement makes my heart sing.

And then there's this: Colleen called. She's safely in her new home. Far away. 

And one more (well two, together). A beautiful post that made me cry. Big family love. Long married love. Brand new love. All good. All God.

Have you any good links to share?