2012 December

One Helluva Lesson For Christmas

December 26, 2012 by Queen of Spain 9 Comments

10:45pm on Christmas Eve and tears were streaming down my face as I helplessly drove around our neighborhood trying to WILL a major store to be open.

Every single emotion leading up to 12/24/2012 at nearly 11pm was pouring out of me. The illness. The pain. The toll on my family. The issues going on in my life unrelated to Lupus, my inability to work, my Aunt being sick, an Aunt I was missing terribly who I lost the year before, other family being too far away…every emotion just exploded and I had to pull over into an empty parking lot to cry.

The lights of the Toys R Us sign in a dark parking lot are depressing as hell when you are the only Mom sitting under them.

Only a few moments before, as my husband and I unpacked the sea of boxes delivered to our door, did I realize the NUMBER ONE gift my daughter asked for was missing. The tracking for said package showed it was ‘in transit’ and ‘should be at your door.’ Yet there was no confirmation it was delivered and no trace of it once it entered the shipping facility on December 12th and was scanned.

The one thing she asked Santa for. The one thing I knew I ordered well in advance and OF COURSE was in one of the gazillion boxes sitting there. Because why would I check? That would be way too smart. This was NOT HAPPENING.

It was also the one thing I totally OVERPAID to get because she wanted a very specific color.

I opened the door to my car and threw up under the Toys R Us sign, which was now turned off. Leading me to believe there was an employee lurking somewhere. And I was entirely prepared to bribe this magic employee with everything in my checking account to let me in to buy a Furby.

A glimmer of hope sprang forth as the puke came out- my brain realizing the lights clicked off means SOMEONE IS THERE but not reaching my stomach in time, which was convinced that after months of shopping online (so as not to setback my recovery) and planning and planning (so as not to overdo it and setback my recovery) I had failed to orchestrate the perfect Christmas for my kids.

Now understand this about my kids and read this with every bit of heart I am going to tell you with: they do not deserve an ounce of whatever God or Goddess I pissed off to turn my life into this series of now comical and always tragic events. The karma or payback or whatever it is that is messing with Aaron and I can not and WILL NOT be bequeathed unto them.

They are too kind. They are too good. They have been through too, too much for small kids.

I would shake hands with the devil himself to ensure they never have to endure another day of the hell chronic illness and hospitals and treatment and surgeries have given me. Sign me up. Send over my soul.

When I realized that toy was missing something in me cracked. And it was not pretty. Life can fuck with me but it will not fuck with my kids. Sure they will have their own experiences that will be successes and failures but it will sure as hell NOT be tied to this life I juggle so they don’t even see the cotton ball and bandage when they walk in the door from school and I have had treatment. I won’t allow it.

Of course there was no employee magically turning on and off lights at the toy store, and I then spent the next 20 minutes driving in a circle around our town crying more but plotting how to GIVE HER that #1 Santa gift without a shred of disappointment.

After a few harebrained ideas I came home, puffy eyed, with a plan where she gets to pick out the color of her toy via her Uncle and Aunt’s gift card – who live on an extremely remote island and can’t possibly find the very rare one she wants – the very moment the stores open. I changed the gift card to read ‘FOR YOUR FURBY’ and shot an email off to my brother and sister-in-law to warn them and then tried like hell to let it go. I had to.

This had to work and it would work because as my son keeps reminding me, ‘Nothing is perfect, ever…and that is a good thing.’

I probably sound insane as you read this. Putting so much stock in a gift from Santa. Wanting everything to be just right when I know it never is. But understand chronic illness is a lifetime of hoping you are doing enough for those you love despite your shortcomings. What I wouldn’t have given to be one of those Moms or Dads who can just go from store to store to store until you find just what you needed on your list and then off you go to another for that other thing.

I’m lucky if I can handle two stores in one day and when I do, don’t expect dinner to be cooked or laundry done or dishes cleaned. There will be take-out and me sniffing shirts before school hoping for a clean pile while nursing swollen ankles and bruises from toes to knee because I dared manage to get groceries and medication on the same day.

Don’t feel sorry for me though, that’s also not the point of this post. This is my life and I am very happy to be LIVING it…I’m throwing this all down in words because I realized that Lupus or no Lupus I wasn’t the only parent or sibling or partner or what not frantic over something this holiday season, knowing FULL WELL we need not be.

Which I could tell was on the tip of both my husband and my father’s tongues as I left the house Monday night but neither dare speak or try and stop me. I was in that non-rational, can not be talked to or reasoned with, get the hell out of my way I will throw a brick through a window and jump through cut glass and sell my body to come home with this fucking toy mode. Know that mode? Been there? Maybe not over a toy but maybe something else? Yeah…you know what I mean.

Of course they were right. Of course I have the most optimistic, sensitive, and sweetest children on the planet who agonized over what they should give each other as siblings so very much it took my son an hour and 27 minutes to pick out three charms. Three charms that he knew his sister would love and that meant something to both of them. Yes, my son spent that long to make sure his sister would be happy and to show his love in charm form to her. And my sweet daughter? Months ago bought her brother a meteorite from a museum she couldn’t afford and has been giving me $1 per week for months to pay me back. Because ‘Mom he just has to have this, it came from space and I can be the one to give him something from space.’

Both frequently checked on the gifts they bought to make sure everything was still in order and when they finally unveiled…well….

…and here I was agonizing and making myself sick over a gift my daughter would receive, just not on the day she expected. She bought the gift card tale with gusto and can’t wait to get the exact one she wants. Her Uncle and Aunt are now heroes (you are welcome) and I am reminded once again that YES life has changed, but life is NOT over. LIFE is not DONE with me and I’m going to still screw up and kick ass and even learn that no matter how much I plan, SHIT STILL HAPPENS. And MOST of it has NOTHING to do with LUPUS! Imagine the hell out of that?!

I need to stop putting so much pressure on myself to ‘make up’ for these imaginary things I swear my kids and husband go through because I am getting an IV all day or because all the pills on the counter scare them. This is now LIFE. For better or for worse- and the guilt needs to leave as do the constant coddling and freak outs because I can’t make that field trip or I can’t volunteer in class or I can’t have that playdate at our house because I’m just too tired today.

It ends now. Before I take what is wonderful about everything that has happened and the bonds growing tighter and the love growing even stronger and I ruin it with trying to make everything ‘perfect.’

Because nothing is perfect. And that really is a good thing. It means we just need to be us, and I need not try to make things happier or more active or anything other than what we can handle and what we WANT to handle and do.

And you know what? I employed that outlook all day and had the best damn Christmas with my family. It was us. It was casual and laid back and odd and silly and surprising and filled with the one thing I know we get right every single time: love. That part has not changed and that part requires me to only be me. Filled with heart for this little family of mine that teaches me more and more every day about what it means to love and what it means to truly be a family.

Happy Holidays to you all. May you love hard and enjoy the pure magic in every moment of life. It won’t ever, ever be perfect, but it sure as hell will be real.

Filed Under: #SUCKITLupus, Feeling YaYa, Merry Merry, Stepford Crazies

Holidays: Hurting, Helping, and Holding Everyone Close

December 23, 2012 by Queen of Spain

I am feeling guilty enjoying the many traditions we partake in here around the holidays. ‘Torn,’ maybe is a better word than ‘guilt.’

Tonight our family filled out our ‘wishes’ for our wish ornament tradition and all I could think of were the families whose wishes won’t come true this year, no matter how hard any of us try. There is just no bringing back those we’ve lost. I’ve tried. I’ve tried since I was a child and my grandmother died. If there were a way, I would have found it by now…just out of sheer love and pain.

For those who are unaware, we are friends with Victoria & Alexis Haller, Aunt and Uncle to six-year old Noah Pozner. Noah was killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School that fateful Friday and I want to make sure you know how to help.

There is a page set up so you can donate directly to Noah’s four surviving siblings. There is also a nationwide effort to help all of the children when they return to school after the break by simply hanging snowflakes around their new place of learning. Making them feel welcome and safe.

I can’t describe what it even slightly feels like to know someone close to this tragedy. Just watching a friend go through this from afar pales so greatly in comparison to what the family is experiencing, that a comparison can not be made. What I can say, is it has made me even more of a believer in the power of GOOD in our community.

Sometimes when it comes to blogging and tweeting and pinning and facebooking we only seem to have two modes: bitch and rally. Right now, we need every bit of rally we can muster. This is one of our nation’s most horrific tragedies, and one of our own has been touched.

I keep trying to make some sort of logical leap in my mind, about how every holiday season we all get a bit down and we all, also, feel that love and magic when we hold each other close. This year…this year is just so much different.

My family is a bit more screwed up than usual. My heart is a bit more torn than it was before children were murdered and I had to explain to my own children things I never want to explain again. My health has this awesome overall outlook but the waiting is unlike any torture on earth…provided the doctor is right.

So much feels broken and I’m the type of person destined to FIX. Control. Fix. Control. Fix.

I’ve let go so much of the control, and am slowly beginning to take back what I can handle…but I still can’t fix. I can’t fix other people, they have to fix themselves. I can’t fix other relationships, they have to fix themselves. I have to let my children become the amazing young adults they are on their way to being, without my overbearing influence. And I certainly can not fix everything our country needs in order to stop another tragedy.

I feel like I tried to take on health care with my own health problems. The election with my gender and my convictions and my determination to see what we all started be FINISHED.

Fix. Control. Fix. Control. From the small to the HUGE it is just what I do. It is just WHO I AM.

Or is it who I was? It’s as though everything was taken out of my hands, I was forced to take a deep breath, and then just sit and watch.

It’s maddening. And fills me with fear and pride.

I’m doing my best to put my health at the top of the list so I can better care for those around me when they need it and when it’s required. Also because I’ve finally realized the healthier I am, the more I can take back of my life. The real life. Not this half-life. The life where I can be on my husband’s arm at a party, or take care of him after surgery.

Where I can take my children to a mall or a store without a cane or a cart for help walking…the life where I don’t have to space out my pain killers and pills just to be able to drive carpool to or from school. The life where I can even volunteer inside the classroom without worry of a germ or bacteria or infection that will land me in the hospital.

The life I want more than anything else. The life that seems so much more simple after December 14th, because I am even more grateful for what I DO have.

I didn’t think that was even possible. I had become so accustomed to being thankful for surviving what I had been through these past two years that adding to the thanks and gratefulness seemed over-the-top.

But when you can feel your heart being ripped from your chest for a friend who last helped hold your hair while you threw up at a strange karaoke bar in Silicon Valley, you know there is always something more to be grateful for.

So I’m asking you to rally. No, I’m telling you to rally.

Keep any of the blog drama to yourself. Now is not the time.

Keep any of the usual behind the scenes status updates ‘accidentally’ gone public deleted. Keep the links hidden.

Suck it up and act like adults about every single matter concerning this. Do not second guess. Do not wonder out loud on twitter.

Be respectful. Be rational. And overall, rally like that blogging community I KNOW you can be when one of us needs it most.

There will be time for all of us to fight about gun control and politics – you can COUNT on that. I’m not asking you keep things without opinion. I’m asking you to rally. And to rally hard.

Hold those you love close this holiday season. Help in any way you can.

For our @VDog. For her family. And, most of all, for Noah.

*In the spirit of this post, comments are off.

Filed Under: Feeling YaYa, Merry Merry, Stepford Crazies

Actions, Words, And Insanity

December 20, 2012 by Queen of Spain 3 Comments

I don’t think many of us have stopped thinking about Sandy Hook. Which, in a way, I am grateful for because our country seems to have such a short attention span as of late we tend to move on to the next bright and shiny object before the last one has had time to figure out what happened.

December 14th, 2012 should never be just another one of those days that is pushed away and referred to as an aside by some street reporter at the next school shooting.

Because make no mistake, there will be another.

I hope with all my heart we never see another, but it seems any sense of unity or togetherness or willingness to do what it takes to stop the next is slipping away quickly.

I awoke to a post by a conservative woman recommending, against every law enforcement training and instructions I have ever been told, that we should be teaching our six-year olds to RUSH and ‘dogpile’ the next armed assailant that enters a school.

As a mother my blood boiled more than I could handle, and given my health I screamed and shouted as much as I could on my phone before finally pulling out of the school parking lot. You know, where I was dropping off my kids where they go to learn things like math- NOT HOW TO DIE. I had to get it out, because as the days roll on, it seems the fringe is once again attempting to co-opt the conversation and lead the country down the crazy path. One that has zero business at the adult table. One that is devoid of any common sense. And one we can not afford to listen to this time around.

As suspected, my fears were realized later in the day when this gem of an article popped up at the National Review. Another fringe/ultra conservative woman but this one was clutching her pearls and blaming the feminization of schools for the additional deaths in Sandy Hook. Had there only been big, strong, men around….we poor, defenseless women wouldn’t be ‘sitting ducks’ – as though this were some pioneer settlement or something.

This is when I became unhinged and my tweets and Facebook posts went off the rails. Angry does not begin to describe how the article made me feel. Offended doesn’t even slightly cover the rage. The author, Charlotte Allen, clearly has never seen me protect my children. Ever heard of the term Mamma Bear? Understand WHY it exists? Do you have any idea what I would DO for these two? ANY?

Allen also did zero fact checking (there were men in the building- she expected them to throw buckets or something, btw) and then insulted the memory and heroism of the women who GAVE THEIR LIVES saving children that day. Doing the exact thing she seemed to think only a man could do. Perhaps she thinks a man can DIE better, I’m not sure…but her linkbait, full of CRAZY post did what it was probably intended to do: rile up the feminists.

As a feminist and mother sometimes it seems some conservative women want to box me in. How can you be both? Don’t you hate men? Wait, you are a mother? I thought you aborted babies?

We don’t fit into their boxes and this confuses them. It can be hard to wrap heads around the idea that we love, have family dinners, take our children to school, help with homework, choose to be stay-at-home mothers and sometimes have no choice and must work to support our families. So when we ROAR just as loud to protect our babies, and willingly throw our bodies or do whatever it takes to save children, ours or others, it seems to not compute with some on the Right.

So when Allen wrote her drivel, throwing us back into the Romney-esq, 1950’s version of the America they all wanted us to go back to…with all males as the only possible heroes and the women just waiting to be saved…the Internet exploded in protest. And at the very least, my brain couldn’t handle yet another senseless and ridiculous blame game for what went wrong with society as a whole to lead to Sandy Hook.

Today it’s feminism, tomorrow it will be video games, next week it will be reality tv. When, if we are truly honest with ourselves…it’s ALL OF US and EVERYTHING.

And I want to be perfectly clear about the outrageous comments being thrown around as the entire world Monday morning quarterback’s what went on: these types of discussions have no business at the table as we attempt to assess, as a nation, just how to solve our gun violence problem. NO BUSINESS.

Yes, I realize what the President said. And I understand he would like all voices heard and I understand that we must look at everything. But we must look at everything REASONABLE and that has COMMON SENSE attached.

Children being taught to rush armed gunman against everything law enforcement has ever taught and women and children waiting for male knights on white horses to come save them are not reasonable nor do they have common sense attached.

And just to be clear, this also did not happen because GOD is ‘been kicked out’ of our public schools. First of all, a child may pray on his or her own whenever he or she likes in a public school. Quiet reflection is always allowed. Had a teacher lead my child in prayer while something like this was happened it would scare them further, as they are not religious nor would they understand what was going on.

And if your God isn’t around during school shootings due to some law on a book somewhere in some country, your God is rather weak. I suggest you shop for a more powerful one that can take out the law and the armed lunatic.

The bottom line here…this is NOT the time for your grandstand posts on crazy, far out, political dogma. This is the time for your grandstand posts on just how BOLD you can be when it comes to solving our nation’s crisis. On helping our nation heal. On coming up with ways we can all agree upon to make sure THIS NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN.

How many times can we all say this? This can NOT happen again, yet the more we do the CRAZY above, the more IT WILL. The more we only stick to our old ways, the less will get done. But that does not mean we let the fringe IN and that doesn’t mean we cave. Far from it. It means we fight like hell and we compromise. We are mature adults who should be able to solve this before more children die. We are mature adults who can come up with at least the start of some solutions while we work to fix the overall ills.

Let me repeat that: we are mature adults who should be able to solve this before MORE CHILDREN DIE.

I can not be more clear. If action is not taken there is blood on ALL our hands. YOU for not compromising. YOU for not listening to the valid argument of a gun owner. YOU for not accepting the stats on video games and kids. YOU for not doing more to fund mental health services. YOU for fighting against insuring 30 million more American through Obamacare. And especially YOU for adding insult to one of the most horrific tragedies of our time.

Enough is enough. It’s now time to get to work and act.

Filed Under: Holding Court, Stepford Crazies

My Knee-Jerk, Mom Reaction to Today’s Events

December 14, 2012 by Queen of Spain 5 Comments

My son and his friend are running around my house ‘shooting’ each other with Nerf guns right now. They are diving on the floor, collecting bullets, telling the other “YOU ARE DEAD DUDE” and generally being nine-year olds.

I want to make them stop. I want to freak out and take away their toy guns and stop their game and tell them they are DONE.

There will be no more fake gun fights in this house. I no longer want to raise a son that glorifies the gun culture. And as a parent I take full responsibility for allowing him to go down that rabbit hole. The toy guns. The endless video games with nothing but war play. Things we find totally normal.

Normal.

I realize in his mind it’s make-believe. In his mind he KNOWS the difference. But today I just can not take the fake vs. real when a friend’s nephew was in that kindergarten class in Connecticut. When so many parents tonight grieve. When the unthinkable CONTINUES to happen again and again in our country.

It begins at home as the culture of guns and violence is forever put in front of their young faces. Even responsibly they are desensitized to the bloodshed. And yes, kids have been doing this forever. If not Nerf guns they would be making guns from sticks or out of their hands. But would they be doing it as much? Would it be as vivid? As real? As daily? As routine?

I just don’t know. I just know I can only control what happens in my own home. I can not control what happens in my child’s school not matter how involved I may be. Or if they are at a friend’s house no matter how well I think I know the parents.

I have to teach my children just how dangerous this world can be, without stealing their childhood…their innocence. Without taking away the very thing youth should be about: discovery and joy and laughter and play.

I watched the President cry. I felt the pain in my friend’s words from across the miles. And I agreed with the Governor when he said evil came to their community.

The problem being…I see no end to the tears, or the pain, or the evil until we, as a nation, face this culture we have created and now celebrate. A culture of hate and violence. A culture of “I’ve got mine, who cares about yours.”

A culture of not being your brother’s keeper. All anyone wants to do is make sure they’ve got their weapon, their safety, and to hell with anyone else.

This is the last lesson I want to teach my children. Ever. Yet this is the lesson so many are teaching theirs’.

As others fight to make further cuts to services we need…like mental health services. And education-the ONE thing that could save us all.

So as I debate all the toy guns scattered about my home, and the violent video games we play…I ask you to think about where this conversation begins as a community. Where it starts as a nation. Where we really dig in and make some changes so no parent, no family, no children ever have to go through this again.

Because I don’t think any of us can take this anymore. Our hearts can only break so many times before healing becomes impossible.

Filed Under: #suckit, Feeling YaYa, Holding Court, Stepford Crazies

38

December 13, 2012 by Queen of Spain 2 Comments

My 38th birthday was this week.

There is something rather peaceful about getting older and not caring as much when birthdays pass. Don’t get me wrong. I love gifts and attention more than anyone, but very honestly this time around I was entirely fine with getting the kids to school, doing laundry, and going to the DMV.

Yup, I spent my birthday at the Department of Motor Vehicles. The land of HAPPY.

But I awoke to homemade cards and homemade movie/date night tickets from my husband and kisses and hugs and I was entirely content.

A far cry from my 35th birthday where some of you joined us in Vegas in the Marilyn Monroe suite at Planet Hollywood where we lived it up until an ambulance was called and security *might* have gotten involved.

What a difference a few years and few hundred doctor appointments make.

You know what has been making me even MORE content? Celebrating my husband’s big 4-0 milestone. And continuing to celebrate throughout the week and weekend. It’s ridiculously fun to lavish someone and smother them with everything from big gifts to big parties. Putting a huge grin on his face makes me even more at peace and I get the feeling he’s juuuuuuuuuust fine with that.

I spent the rest of my week in treatment, recovering from Disney despite the wheelchair. Trying to keep up with the kids and their final two weeks of school before break. The holiday shows, the final projects. The parties, the teacher gifts. I know I’m forgetting something. I always am.

But with the chaos always comes the calm. Once again our family has been tried in ways I could have never have seen coming. A very ill aunt. A cyclone. A mundane broken kitchen sink. A speeding ticket. Parking ticket. Vasculitis, shoulder surgery, even multiplication tables gave us reasons to cringe and hug. Long story, don’t ask.

But we keep on keeping on. Maybe once again hugging a bit tighter. Snuggling a bit longer before bed. Having a harder time saying goodbye at the school room door. At the front door on the way out. Relieved as everyone walks back in for the day.

So while yes, I turned 38 this week without much craziness or pomp, it was exactly as it should be. I was content to be growing old with, hopefully, some grace. But more importantly, with those I love.

Filed Under: #SUCKITLupus, Feeling YaYa, Stepford Crazies

He is 40

December 9, 2012 by Queen of Spain 2 Comments

This is one of those blog posts I’ve stopped and started at least a dozen times.

I was sappy at first. But that just didn’t seem right. I mean…have you met my husband? When I get sappy, he just teases me more.

I was making ‘old man’ and ‘over-the-hill’ jokes. But that wasn’t right either. The guy just had shoulder surgery for the second time. And while the ‘old’ jokes can be funny, I’m going to save my roast for his 50th.

I even considered the video blog, so I could just blab and blab and yap yap yap…but let’s face it, my husband gets that from me daily. And it’s the man’s BIRTHDAY. The least I could do is give him a tiny bit of silence.

So in the end I thought I’d give him a post and virtual birthday card HE would enjoy: short, simple, and to the point.

Ahem.

Ok.

Here I go:

40 looks damn good on you, love.

May this decade be full of happiness, less stress, and you enjoying every moment.

You deserve it.

Happy Birthday.

Now, just to annoy him, everyone run on over to his Facebook and Twitter feed and wish him a happy 40th. Because nothing says ‘love’ and ‘birthday’ like internet friends and family and co-workers bombarding you with messages via social media.

Filed Under: Feeling YaYa, Kaiser, Stepford Crazies

In Fantasyland, I Find My Inner Mrs. Jumbo…Again

December 7, 2012 by Queen of Spain

A very long time ago, geez…back when we were all baby bloggers…I wrote a post about Mrs. Jumbo. You know, Dumbo’s Mom.

There is that heartwretching part of the movie where Dumbo and his mother have been separated and he finds his mother in circus jail and she cradles him with her trunk and the beautiful, yet haunting, ‘Baby of Mine’ plays as we all weep. I had to write about seeing Dumbo again, this time as a mother:

Can you imagine being torn from your children and locked away without any knowledge of their wellbeing or welfare? Maddening.

Ok. Enough.

I’ve never really been a collector of trinkets or things (shut up, my dear Kaiser husband…regular things don’t count) but I honestly think I may take more of an interest in anything with Mrs. Jumbo.

She deserves the recognition.

Mrs. Jumbo. I’m with ya’ sister in motherhood- in spirit and in ass size.

I also think she should be our new mascot. For all us “naptime activists” and mother’s with causes, Mrs. Jumbo shows we won’t take any shit and will fight if you mess with our kids.

Disney doesn’t just tug at your heartstrings during this moment as a mother elephant reaches to touch and hold and comfort her baby. Disney demands you are present in this moment for all time.

It’s something you never forget because it is locked in your heart forever, never to be let out and never to be erased.

It is a million of those magical moments that make up the expansion of Walt Disney World’s Fantasyland. And yes, like you have been seeing on tv and in your papers and blogs all week, I have been lucky enough to bring my family to experience the biggest thing to happen to the Magic Kingdom in a very long time.

Disney offered to bring me out*, and I opted to bring my Mom and kids along to ‘test’ just how family friendly the ‘new’ Fantasyland really is. Because let’s face it, I’m in a wheelchair for park experiences, and Disney just isn’t Disney without your kids.

But I very quickly learned it wasn’t about all the new features- like an air conditioned play area for you and your kids while you wait ‘in line’ for now TWO Dumbo rides (no really, your places is held in line while the kids can go RUN AROUND AND PLAY) – or seeing the showstopper of Fantastyland: the Beast’s castle.

It’s about the moments. The little things. Like walking into the gift shop with my family and seeing Mrs. Jumbo and baby Dumbo and immediately tearing up. Then having my Mom purchase said stuffed toy for me for my 38th birthday which is on Monday. Yes, this grown woman just got a stuffed animal from her Mom at Disney World for her birthday.

But it meant the world.

It’s the silly moments…like getting to talk ‘dinglehoppers’ with Ariel. And laughing hysterically because my kids wouldn’t go near her yet I was there chatting away about dinglehoppers AND football (she didn’t know what that was, she plays clam ball) while my kids watched on half in embarrassment and half in awe.

There were also the moments of wonder and pure magic. Like the look on my children’s faces when the most amazing, and very mysterious dragon flew over our heads and over the Beast’s castle as we explored Fantasyland with the other guests. We had just finished riding Goofy’s Barnstormer’s roller coaster (for the second time…great for smaller kids who like a thrill) when what I swear to you was a REAL DRAGON swooshed over us and around the clouds a bit and then disappeared somewhere near the castle lurking over the hillside.

That dragon had jaws on the floor and everyone buzzing. Including my children who are now dragon-crazy and DETERMINED to find out just where it lives, why it’s here, and where they can discover it’s lair.

And then there is the moments like tucking in tired children who are tightly clutching new LightSabers and new Dragons, having decided to become Disney pin traders…even pin traders who stand for the rights of others…

…and dreaming of what is to come tomorrow when they get to explore another part of the park.

But with all the crowds, and lines, and buses and boats and monorails- all of which accommodated my wheelchair with smiles and ease- nothing beats the moment sitting in my own bed in our family suite where I could reunite Mrs. Jumbo and Dumbo for all time. Making sure Mamma and her baby lived happily ever after.

Even if it took me 38-years.

*Walt Disney World Parks provided travel, accommodations, and media availability for the grand re-opening of Fantasyland, including tickets to park attractions

Filed Under: Feeling YaYa, Royal Family Outing, Stepford Crazies

Mom, I Can See The Curvature of the Earth

December 4, 2012 by Queen of Spain 8 Comments

My son has spent over three hours looking out the window of our plane.

He doesn’t want to play on his iPad.

He has no interest in the little books and games and gifts I brought to keep him and his sister busy on this over four hour flight.

He’s just been staring out the window. No really, a nine-year old boy who never stops moving has been doing absolutely nothing but looking out a window for HOURS.

Mom do you think the clouds can feel us splitting them apart when we fly through them? Ok I know they can’t really feel but do you think clouds would rather be all together and not broken up by anything, like a plane or a bird or anything?

Mom do you think the pilot really thinks all that turbulence is bad or do you think he just wants us in our seats? That’s why school should be on planes: because it’s so beautiful everyone would pay attention and when they didn’t the teacher could put on the seat belt sign.

Mom, do you think the air that goes through and around the planes gets mixed up in the clouds and the clouds are somehow changed by it? Like could those clouds end up being clouds they shouldn’t have been?

Mom, see where that cloud reaches that mountain over there? See that area right in the middle where is just doesn’t touch and there is that teeny tiny bit of space? That space is the most beautiful space ever.

Mom, do you think when we fly at Christmas time there will also be clouds or do you think the sky will just have nothing?

Mom, I need a tissue. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cry. It’s just all so wonderful and beautiful.

We’re now on hour four. And yes, THAT is my son.

Filed Under: Count Waffles, Feeling YaYa, Stepford Crazies