This.

Color Wonder

My daughter asked me this morning why I chose grey for my hair and not pink.

Not that I chose the grey.

Thanks for pointing it out.

Disney: Not for the Weak

Disney was a rare journey when I was growing up. There were only two students in my elementary class who had actually gone. The rest of us were only left to the glimpses we saw each Sunday evening on The Wonderful Wide World of Disney as Walt would present us with another brilliant peek into his imagination. As soon as Tinkerbelle flew out from behind the castle, you knew something beyond what you could ever even begin to conceive was coming your way. It was Magic. And it was a little painful, because it really did seem like a dream, something you would never really get to experience.

For the modern child, it is a far different story.

Disney is expected.

In a class of twenty, more than half, bordering one third, in each of my children's classes, have gone to Disney. Some both World and Land. Keep in mind my daughter is only in Pre-K; some are barely four years old and have been. How much did they retain? How much do they remember? Is it worth it to go now while they are still so young?

The answer is A LOT. They remember A LOT. All of them. Every child I asked. They don't remember the large things. They remember the little things. The extremely important things. They remember how they felt when they were there.

They felt Magical.

Christmas was barely over when we made our snap decision to go. Flu took over my son and I, keeping us from every single celebration we had planned with family and friends. Unfortunately, due to concern of spreading the flu, my healthy husband and daughter were kept from those plans too. It was a Blue Christmas, filled with lots of tears. Not exactly something you get over quickly, just like that lingering flu. My kids returned to school with broken hearts, still asking why Christmas didn't come, even though Santa had. It was awful. So we decided to call on help from a little mouse named Mickey.

We were going to Disney, come hell or high water.

We got both once we started planning.

The Disney sub culture is not to be effed with, as I found out. This isn't just a theme park. You don't just show up. This takes books, blogs, web sites, phone calls, travel agents, reservations, and extensive research.

Mistake #1: I asked where my friends had stayed when they went.

"YOU'RE GOING WHEN???? YOU CAN'T PLAN DISNEY IN A MONTH! YOU'RE CRAZY!!! OMYGOSH YOU AREN'T GOING TO GET ANYTHING YOU WANT!!! YOU GUYS ARE INSANE!!!"

Said every.single.person.we.asked.

You can, actually. It's just not for the weak, if that's your decision. But it was my only option. I had two sad kids, and I wasn't going to disappoint them. We couldn't wait till Spring Break or Summer. We needed some Magic. Now.

The moment I started to plan, I knew exactly what they were talking about, those friends. Even the hotel was a fight to the death with some other mother I could not see through the computer also trying desperately to get the Ariel room.  She wasn't going to win. I wouldn't let her. She wasn't going to rob my baby of her favorite princess's room. So I guarded that site like a hawk until it was MINE. We got it! I could exhale!

Until they mentioned the Dining Plan. What? What's that? I don't need that. There is food everywhere and I'm sure we can....No? No, we can't walk up and eat? Really? We need a reservation for....everything? Really????

Yes. Really. No, really, you do. Even for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And guess what? That mom that tried to bag your room? She has a jump on you. That's right, that reservation you wanted to eat with Cinderella or Tigger or whatever that one's name is that's new...yeah, she got it. And she's rubbin' in yo FACE. Because she got it six months ago. And you didn't.

So I cried. "I ruined it. It's ruined. It's gonna suck just like Christmas. They're gonna HATE it and....WWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" That's what I did. I cried. Like that kid who won't draw breath from screaming at a high pitch in Target that keeps finding you on every aisle you go down. I was that kid. WWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

Then, I got a Disney Travel Agent. And guess what? It wasn't going to suck. It was all going to be okay. Because it's what you make of it. Plus, she had an in.

We were going to Disney. It was official.

Then a mom in my Community said, "You're taking The Professor to Disney? How's that gonna work?" My mental preparation for this moment had already begun, and I had separate research I'd been doing. There was going to be a very different layer to our Disney trip. I knew from the moment my husband and I made the big announcement.

Our daughter is The Sass Factory. Sass kissed us each fifty times, screamed, shook her booty in a little dance, then began to bark out orders of which dress-up clothing I needed to bring, how many princess shirts she would need, that a tiara was in order and to bring at least one doll. She was ready for her Disney adventure. Another little nugget from her class had just returned with tales of fairy dust and princesses and ice cream in shapes and all sorts of lovely details she'd been jealous about for weeks. It was her due. She was going and she was READY.

The Professor... He had a full-blown panic attack. Exactly as expected.

The Professor has Aspergers Syndrome, a form of Autism.

AS children are fact-based. Neuro-typical children (such as The Sass Factory) are not. Sass only thought of being there, not getting there. Professor immediately brought up air safety, the probability of planes crashing, that we would not be in our own home, that we would be off schedule, and that he didn't know if they had Uncrustables. These are real fears to an AS child. It was awful. And I knew it was coming. But I knew if I could get him there, he would be fine.

Just as we were two days from our Disney trip, an unexpected blizzard appeared on the radar for Oklahoma. We don't do snow in these-here parts. People panic. Airports close. No really, they do.

So, we nearly shit our pants and began to panic. New flights had to be found. Hotel night had to be added. And coats had to be factored in, since we hadn't planned on wearing any or carting them around with us. The reality of getting there was turning into a huge stressful mess. And the flight put us arriving in Orlando past midnight with four bags, two kids, and no sleep. Wow. This is not what I had in mind.

Pretty much any mother can relate to the art of packing a family, how precise it is and how various moves such as toiletries are planned to the last second as they enter the bags. Then came a blizzard warning, and I lost a whole day. We were leaving on our trip one WHOLE DAY early. One less day to wash. To fold. To find. To place. To gather. This was a BIG DAMN DEAL.

To me.

Only to me.

I was a MESS. .

..Again.

This is when it's great to have one of those practical husbands who do not overly sympathize and give you too much comforting. It was more "Get the big girl panties on and get it done...honeybear." And it worked. And the suitcases zipped. And we were 49.9 pounds on both so we didn't have to pay extra. Rawk.

So a day early and two outfits per person extra, we were at the airport ready to fly to Orlando, Florida on Oscar night. My kids had never flown before; they were pros by the second flight. They loved it, especially the part where the lady with the cart who keeps putting a mask on your face to show you what to do if the plane...WHAT??? CRASHES??? THE PLANE IS CRASHING??? WHAT??? ....Sorry. Happened once (or twice) during the little demo at the beginning. Anyway.... The part where she gives you your own can of soda to have all by yourself.

Then came the actual second flight. Remember that blizzard coming to the Midwest we were avoiding? Well, see, it was supposed to show up on Monday in Oklahoma. This was Sunday. And it was coming from the East. So we ran into it. In the form of turbulence. Like the "THERE'S SOMETHING ON THE WING OF THE PLANE!!!" panic inducing turbulence. Well, for me, at least. Not so great a flyer, this girl. Some of the drops were about 5 - 7 feet. My husband travels all the time. This is in his top 10 of worst flights. The kids didn't notice one thing. They were too busy watching shows and playing games on the ipad. I cried. Again. And dug my white knuckled fingers into my husbands leg. He and my son were in the row behind us. That leg (and 50 Hail Mary) saved us from crashing. You're welcome, American Airlines.

Finally, we were on the ground. We were in Orlando, Florida. And it was in the dead damn middle of the night, no signage and no damn clue where the Magic Express was.

I was tired. And losing it because I was certain my children were starving. So like any good Mother, I bought them chicken nuggets from an airport McDonald's. Let's just say I've had prouder moments than watching my children stuff nuggets, fries and a sprite in their mouths at 1:00 a.m. on a bus. in the middle of nowhere.

Should you check in to a Magic Kingdom resort at 1:30 a.m., be prepared they are still cheerful. And they're still gonna give you the whole schpeel. Even if your REAL check-in is the next morning and this is just a blizzard induced added night. They're also going to forget your PhotoPassPlus card. And it's going to be a HUGE headache the rest of the trip. But that's a WHOLE other entry.

But...You're at Disney. And even though you are exhausted and want to start screaming because you're still carting lugging and trying to find your room and you avoided a blizzard but found turbulence and fed children crap in the middle of night...the Magic hits.

We stayed at the Art of Animation. You are suddenly four inches tall because everything else is so large. You are submerged into the EAC from Nemo when you walk by the pool. The Mine? Mine? Mine? seagulls are looking down on you. Then you're going under a giant log as Pumba, Timone and Simba walk above you. And finally...you're Under the Sea. You're under Ursula's tentacle.

And finally...you land inside your room. Also known as Ariel's Grotto. There are bubbles all over the walls. There are thingamabobs and who-sits a plenty. And it's awesome. And the rest suddenly doesn't matter.

The Wishes Fireworks show had begun. The four of us stood on Main Street USA at the Magic Kingdom, all together. We were happy. We were all happy. And no one was disappointed or had to miss out on anything. They were showing the images of the cartoons familiar to my children, creating smiles on their faces from dimple to dimple. Then...they showed Walt Disney. And Swiss Family Robinson. And Mary Poppins. And so many of the friends that were so important to me as a child. I wasn't sitting in my living room watching the Wide World of Disney. I was an adult. We were financially able to provide this for our kids. And the part of me this was important to didn't grow up. That childlike wonder was still there. That spark I got when watching the little light fly out of the castle when I was a kid that always made me so excited at what was coming next was till there. And I started to cry. Again. And right at that very second...

Tinkerbelle flew out from the top of the castle and went right over us.

I'm Gonna Wreck-It!!

This just happened.

In a firm voice, I was trying to correct my son. And somehow I called him Fix-It Philip. Instead of just his name.

Now even I don't know what point I was trying to make. He's laughing too hard for me to remember.

Parenting Awesomeness for the day achieved.

Welcome to Loudmouth

If you've ever met me, you'll know why this title fits. A background in PR and Event promotion makes it a pretty good moniker for me; I like to spread the word. ...That and I don't take a lot of poop. Perhaps I am known for speaking my mind. And for not bottling pretty much...anything. Perhaps. I mean, this could be a reason for Loudmouth as well. But we're getting ahead of ourselves.

Welcome to my vent...blog. I meant blog.

A brief history:

My life is one big funny mess after another, and those who follow me on facebook are thoroughly entertained by the weird, 1% odd things that never happen to anyone else that ALWAYS seem to happen to me. For instance, there is a man at the Newcastle, OK Wal-Mart that likes to chase me on his hover round. No really. True story. He's done it twice, attempted a third. And yes, I laughed my ass off. He does not like it when you stay in an aisle he is attempting to go down. Let's say, the hair dye aisle. Mine is down to my shoulder blades. He's bald. I win. Didn't move. Pissed him off. He kept yelling at me to get away. Think he called me a brat, too (which at nearly 40 is terribly flattering). So he chased me out of the aisle saying he was going to hit me. I told him if he did it again, I was gonna sit on his lap and ride through the whole store with him singing annoying songs. He left me alone.

You have to laugh. Because if you don't, everything gets to you. You have to applaud the freak flag and raise your own. Because it's the odd, infrequent stuff that's the best. You have to let it out sometimes, too. Otherwise you implode. Say it. Out loud. Get it in the open, resolve it and move on. It's worked. I've mended all the bumps of my past just by saying the icky uncomfortable stuff, and having others do the same. And I'm better for it.

My Daughter will be heretofor named The Sass Factory. This works. Her moniker REALLY works. She is five, tall, beautiful and HILARIOUS. And not just little kid funny. Her response to my Son trying to tell her the story of Little Red Riding Hood in detail was, "Oh, just make the wolf eat her!!!" She's that kid.

My Son will be heretofor called The Professor.

No, not all my posts will be bitchy/humorous rants. There are real sides to my life, and they will come out. For instance, The Professor. He's seven. He is very serious. He is jaw-dropping smart. And yeah, he's Autistic. Aspergers Syndrome. And no, it's not always easy. And yes, sometimes it is. Hysterical, even. But there are very real parts to this Loudmouth story.

Which is another reason for getting it out. There is another mom out there like me who from time to time is lost and just wants to know someone else feels the same. So I'll get it out for you. When you can't scream because you have to hold it together... I gotcha.

And sometimes you just have to be loud and inappropriate and say crazy stuff because other moms need you to. They have a colic baby, no sleep, have been to the grocery eight times in one day, have a deployed husband, work a job and have two kids, maybe they have three kids under the age of five and a baby on the way. And they need someone to say crude things. Or funny things. Or make horrible observances. Or just tell them you had a bad day, too, and let them feel better about themselves because you're suffering. That works, too.

I write on my secret Mom time. My dreams have been handed over to the far more creative dreams of my children during their waking hours. And in my little space slice, I can be a writing rock star. Hope you all enjoy it.

You don't have to be a big fish, you just have to remember you once had gills.

Welcome to Loudmouth!