MeanestMomEver
Oh Boy!
- Joined
- Sep 30, 2008
I'm somewhat new to trip reports, having written my first last year: http://www.disboards.com/showthread.php?t=3238608
and my second is still underway but I hope to finish it up in the next few weeks: http://www.disboards.com/showthread.php?t=3337486
Though not written with plans to make this an official Disboards Trip Report, I figured this post could serve as a summary of my third report for my most recent trip. I'm hoping to come back and share a few more stories and thoughts on this trip in the near future.
This post is, I confess, actually sloppy seconds. I wrote this as an essay to take to my writing group. (It's a new hobby group I'm investigating.) This is why it doesn't really read like a trip report. My trip reports are maybe not as magical as some of the exciting ones with beautiful photos and storybook itineraries. I prefer to write more about my family members' personal reactions and interactions while on the trip, rather than a travel guide. So, for anyone who cares to continue on and/or look at my older trip reports, I thank you for putting up with us.
This essay deals with the last of the three trips I was able to make o Orlando in 2014. These trips were made possible only because my husband had business events to attend and was very unusual for us.
The Empty Nesters
As each of my three daughters went off to college, my table setting ritual required one less dinner plate and that small act always managed to sabotage me and trigger tears that can only be described as bittersweet. I dreaded the day the youngest of my three daughters would leave for college. And, while my friends pointed out that she wasn’t that far away, it still stung, even if, like her sisters, her dorm was only 10 minutes away.
I realized my heavy heart wasn’t a result of the number of miles that separated my baby and me. It was about the distance from my old life and the new me…whoever that was.
Fortunately, I adjusted to Empty Nest Syndrome much more quickly than I’d expected that fall. My husband always expressed interest in me some day being able to accompany him on select business trips. In his mind, we could enjoy evenings and maybe add an extra day or two, when our budget permitted it. In my mind: “Eh!” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Daddy’s business trips meant tea party dinners, girly-girl spa nights and sister slumber parties in the master bedroom. I loved every minute of it. But now?
Now what?
Yes, I decided, tagging along to… wherever, might be fun. At least it had to be better than getting out just one dinner plate. So, when a few conferences in Florida came up last spring and summer, I agreed to give it a try.
The first trip, coincidentally, lined up neatly with Purdue’s spring break, and, you guessed it. ALL THREE daughters managed to worm their way into my romantic getaway.
The second trip was in June. The girls all had work commitments and (shh) that was fine with us. Eric and I worked at learning how to be on a trip as a couple for the first time since 1985.
Visiting Orlando felt a little awkward without the girls. Family vacations had been rare for us but we all agreed that our Disney trips were the ones that we all loved and that still hold special places in each of our hearts. On this visit, Eric and I were both guilty of catching ourselves sighing and uttering phrases such as: “I miss them. Wouldn’t the girls get a kick out of this? I have to text the girls and tell them about...”
But we managed.
We managed to dine in establishments without princesses, high chairs and crayons. We managed to see shows that didn’t empty into a gift shop filled with plush toys. We managed to sleep when we wanted and share the bathroom without incident. We may have even managed an adult beverage. Or two. Somehow, we managed to be a couple and we were pretty good at it. In fact, we were so good at it that when he was asked to speak at a conference in September, again in Orlando, I was 100% on board. I immediately began booking activities, shows and reservations for two! Couple time was working great. Additionally, we were delighted to learn that our oldest daughter, who lives and works in Jacksonville, offered to drive down to see us before we left! I was so giddy at that news that I even invited her to bring her on-again, off-again boyfriend. I thought I detected tears as she told me she didn’t think he would be joining us. The silence that followed confirmed my suspicions.
“I’m sorry, honey.” I knew she needed to see her mama. We looked forward to seeing her Friday evening.
Meanwhile, we continued to enjoy learning about trips for two. Eric attended his meetings while I read and swam during the day. Our evenings were spent doing whatever we wanted or nothing at all. There were no arguments over hair straighteners, no waiting in line with tired children and no emergency dashes to the restroom, well, not as many, anyway. No one uttered the words chicken nuggets all week! This new stage of life wasn’t so bad after all. But maybe we were becoming just a little too smug about it. In our hotel’s gift shop there was a big board that invited guests to answer the question that Disney marketing dictates you answer at least 10 times a day, “What are you celebrating?” With a smirk, Eric grabbed a marker and wrote, “Vacationing without kids.”
On Friday, Natalie called. She wasn’t feeling well. Would it be OK, if she just drove down Saturday instead, she wanted to know? We were fine with that. “See you in the morning!”
Eric and I headed off to the Magic Kingdom to do all the things we wanted to do there. We had a great evening, just being a couple. We both mentioned that we were finding that Disney as empty nesters is magical in a new way. As we arrived at our room that evening, we stopped in the doorway. There was a baby crib set up next to the bed. I glanced at the number on the door, just to make sure. And then I surveyed the room. Yes, the familiar middle aged wardrobe and comfy shoes of empty-nesters told me we were in the right place.
“Oh, yuck.” Eric laughed, “No, no, no. We don’t need this.”
Eric grabbed the phone and called housekeeping, or mousekeeping, as seasoned Disney travelers say. “We just returned to our room and found, ha, ha, ha, a baby crib.” He was laughing at the cleverness that he was about to unleash. “We certainly don’t need this. “We’re celebrating our 29th anniversary…” (Disney marketing always pretends to want to know if it’s your anniversary.) “…and we certainly don’t need a crib. No. Noooooo babies. Done with that. Done. That’s all in the past now. Nope. “
I was certain that the paid-to-be-polite person he held captive on the phone was growing tired of pretending to be amused by my husband’s knee-slapping humor. I gave the internationally known “wrap it up” signal, rotating one finger in the air accompanied by a knowing head-tilt. The crib was quickly scurried away and delivered to the family directly above us, hopefully, just in time to keep them from reaching their wit’s end, last straw or end of the rope.
Eric continued to congratulate himself about not needing a crib and threw in a few witty jabs about not missing the years spent fumbling with our first generation pack N play while I enjoyed an extra leisurely shower, because I could! As I stood there, I thought about how my sentimental husband was, possibly, trying just a little too hard to convince himself that he’s alright with this new child-free stage. And I thought about our old, clunky pack N play. And maybe cried a little.
Saturday morning as we lingered over brunch, expecting our daughter to join us at any moment, we, instead, received a text message. “Still not feeling well. Hope to leave soon.” We decided to wait in the pool where we exchanged knowing but amused glances over a child who decided swim trunks were optional, two sisters fighting over Mardi Gras beads, a toddler who turned to jelly to avoid another layer of sunscreen and all of their parents who were simply too tired to know or believe that these are the best times of their lives. It did, however, feel good to know that our days of childhood antics were behind us. No more curve balls for us!
A late, poolside lunch and tropical beverage brought another text. Only an hour to go! She finally arrived and I noted that our usually bubbly and up-for-anything daughter was not herself. “I’m just not feeling that great. But I’ll be ok.”
Once again, we were at Magic Kingdom and recalling our first trip when she was just five years old. And now we were with her again, at age 28. How odd it was. And, frankly, she was cramping our new, jet-setting couple style. She didn’t want to go on the new roller coaster. She didn’t want to spin. She didn’t want to hurry. That darn Mr. On-again, Off-again. I was sure he was to blame.
“Look at that cute baby,” my daughter cooed, motioning toward a little girl cuddling an Elsa doll. I smiled and nodded, not in agreement but in contentment, glad I wasn’t the one saddled with navigating a stroller.
The next morning, as we said our midmorning farewells in the parking lot before heading to the airport, our daughter lingered after her dad put her bag into her car. She looked like she was holding her breath as if she were about to do or say something dramatic. Was she about to ask for gas money? No, that wasn’t it. Her hinting for money look wasn’t this doe-eyed. She was nearly teary. Ah! It was her relationship issue. Of course!
“Don’t worry.” I told her. “You’ll get through this and you will meet a guy who truly appreciates you.”
She said nothing.
She just stared at me. She was trying to tell me something.
I stared back for what felt like several minutes. I watched her absent-mindedly raise her hand to her stomach. As her hand came to rest on the belly of the striped dress I will remember forever. I finally got it. There is something unique about that cradling of the stomach. I recognized it instantly.
I may have missed the morning sickness, the loss of appetite, the fatigue, the weepiness, the abstinence from alcohol, the avoidance of rides not recommended for expectant mothers and her magnet-like attraction to every diaper-clad child at Walt Disney World. I may have even missed the message that I believe was sent to me from mousekeeping and from the man upstairs, and maybe even from Walt Disney, himself. It all went right over my head! But I caught the placement of that hand.
It’s now her turn to build the nest.
and my second is still underway but I hope to finish it up in the next few weeks: http://www.disboards.com/showthread.php?t=3337486
Though not written with plans to make this an official Disboards Trip Report, I figured this post could serve as a summary of my third report for my most recent trip. I'm hoping to come back and share a few more stories and thoughts on this trip in the near future.
This post is, I confess, actually sloppy seconds. I wrote this as an essay to take to my writing group. (It's a new hobby group I'm investigating.) This is why it doesn't really read like a trip report. My trip reports are maybe not as magical as some of the exciting ones with beautiful photos and storybook itineraries. I prefer to write more about my family members' personal reactions and interactions while on the trip, rather than a travel guide. So, for anyone who cares to continue on and/or look at my older trip reports, I thank you for putting up with us.
This essay deals with the last of the three trips I was able to make o Orlando in 2014. These trips were made possible only because my husband had business events to attend and was very unusual for us.
The Empty Nesters
As each of my three daughters went off to college, my table setting ritual required one less dinner plate and that small act always managed to sabotage me and trigger tears that can only be described as bittersweet. I dreaded the day the youngest of my three daughters would leave for college. And, while my friends pointed out that she wasn’t that far away, it still stung, even if, like her sisters, her dorm was only 10 minutes away.
I realized my heavy heart wasn’t a result of the number of miles that separated my baby and me. It was about the distance from my old life and the new me…whoever that was.
Fortunately, I adjusted to Empty Nest Syndrome much more quickly than I’d expected that fall. My husband always expressed interest in me some day being able to accompany him on select business trips. In his mind, we could enjoy evenings and maybe add an extra day or two, when our budget permitted it. In my mind: “Eh!” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Daddy’s business trips meant tea party dinners, girly-girl spa nights and sister slumber parties in the master bedroom. I loved every minute of it. But now?
Now what?
Yes, I decided, tagging along to… wherever, might be fun. At least it had to be better than getting out just one dinner plate. So, when a few conferences in Florida came up last spring and summer, I agreed to give it a try.
The first trip, coincidentally, lined up neatly with Purdue’s spring break, and, you guessed it. ALL THREE daughters managed to worm their way into my romantic getaway.
The second trip was in June. The girls all had work commitments and (shh) that was fine with us. Eric and I worked at learning how to be on a trip as a couple for the first time since 1985.
Visiting Orlando felt a little awkward without the girls. Family vacations had been rare for us but we all agreed that our Disney trips were the ones that we all loved and that still hold special places in each of our hearts. On this visit, Eric and I were both guilty of catching ourselves sighing and uttering phrases such as: “I miss them. Wouldn’t the girls get a kick out of this? I have to text the girls and tell them about...”
But we managed.
We managed to dine in establishments without princesses, high chairs and crayons. We managed to see shows that didn’t empty into a gift shop filled with plush toys. We managed to sleep when we wanted and share the bathroom without incident. We may have even managed an adult beverage. Or two. Somehow, we managed to be a couple and we were pretty good at it. In fact, we were so good at it that when he was asked to speak at a conference in September, again in Orlando, I was 100% on board. I immediately began booking activities, shows and reservations for two! Couple time was working great. Additionally, we were delighted to learn that our oldest daughter, who lives and works in Jacksonville, offered to drive down to see us before we left! I was so giddy at that news that I even invited her to bring her on-again, off-again boyfriend. I thought I detected tears as she told me she didn’t think he would be joining us. The silence that followed confirmed my suspicions.
“I’m sorry, honey.” I knew she needed to see her mama. We looked forward to seeing her Friday evening.
Meanwhile, we continued to enjoy learning about trips for two. Eric attended his meetings while I read and swam during the day. Our evenings were spent doing whatever we wanted or nothing at all. There were no arguments over hair straighteners, no waiting in line with tired children and no emergency dashes to the restroom, well, not as many, anyway. No one uttered the words chicken nuggets all week! This new stage of life wasn’t so bad after all. But maybe we were becoming just a little too smug about it. In our hotel’s gift shop there was a big board that invited guests to answer the question that Disney marketing dictates you answer at least 10 times a day, “What are you celebrating?” With a smirk, Eric grabbed a marker and wrote, “Vacationing without kids.”
On Friday, Natalie called. She wasn’t feeling well. Would it be OK, if she just drove down Saturday instead, she wanted to know? We were fine with that. “See you in the morning!”
Eric and I headed off to the Magic Kingdom to do all the things we wanted to do there. We had a great evening, just being a couple. We both mentioned that we were finding that Disney as empty nesters is magical in a new way. As we arrived at our room that evening, we stopped in the doorway. There was a baby crib set up next to the bed. I glanced at the number on the door, just to make sure. And then I surveyed the room. Yes, the familiar middle aged wardrobe and comfy shoes of empty-nesters told me we were in the right place.
“Oh, yuck.” Eric laughed, “No, no, no. We don’t need this.”
Eric grabbed the phone and called housekeeping, or mousekeeping, as seasoned Disney travelers say. “We just returned to our room and found, ha, ha, ha, a baby crib.” He was laughing at the cleverness that he was about to unleash. “We certainly don’t need this. “We’re celebrating our 29th anniversary…” (Disney marketing always pretends to want to know if it’s your anniversary.) “…and we certainly don’t need a crib. No. Noooooo babies. Done with that. Done. That’s all in the past now. Nope. “
I was certain that the paid-to-be-polite person he held captive on the phone was growing tired of pretending to be amused by my husband’s knee-slapping humor. I gave the internationally known “wrap it up” signal, rotating one finger in the air accompanied by a knowing head-tilt. The crib was quickly scurried away and delivered to the family directly above us, hopefully, just in time to keep them from reaching their wit’s end, last straw or end of the rope.
Eric continued to congratulate himself about not needing a crib and threw in a few witty jabs about not missing the years spent fumbling with our first generation pack N play while I enjoyed an extra leisurely shower, because I could! As I stood there, I thought about how my sentimental husband was, possibly, trying just a little too hard to convince himself that he’s alright with this new child-free stage. And I thought about our old, clunky pack N play. And maybe cried a little.
Saturday morning as we lingered over brunch, expecting our daughter to join us at any moment, we, instead, received a text message. “Still not feeling well. Hope to leave soon.” We decided to wait in the pool where we exchanged knowing but amused glances over a child who decided swim trunks were optional, two sisters fighting over Mardi Gras beads, a toddler who turned to jelly to avoid another layer of sunscreen and all of their parents who were simply too tired to know or believe that these are the best times of their lives. It did, however, feel good to know that our days of childhood antics were behind us. No more curve balls for us!
A late, poolside lunch and tropical beverage brought another text. Only an hour to go! She finally arrived and I noted that our usually bubbly and up-for-anything daughter was not herself. “I’m just not feeling that great. But I’ll be ok.”
Once again, we were at Magic Kingdom and recalling our first trip when she was just five years old. And now we were with her again, at age 28. How odd it was. And, frankly, she was cramping our new, jet-setting couple style. She didn’t want to go on the new roller coaster. She didn’t want to spin. She didn’t want to hurry. That darn Mr. On-again, Off-again. I was sure he was to blame.
“Look at that cute baby,” my daughter cooed, motioning toward a little girl cuddling an Elsa doll. I smiled and nodded, not in agreement but in contentment, glad I wasn’t the one saddled with navigating a stroller.
The next morning, as we said our midmorning farewells in the parking lot before heading to the airport, our daughter lingered after her dad put her bag into her car. She looked like she was holding her breath as if she were about to do or say something dramatic. Was she about to ask for gas money? No, that wasn’t it. Her hinting for money look wasn’t this doe-eyed. She was nearly teary. Ah! It was her relationship issue. Of course!
“Don’t worry.” I told her. “You’ll get through this and you will meet a guy who truly appreciates you.”
She said nothing.
She just stared at me. She was trying to tell me something.
I stared back for what felt like several minutes. I watched her absent-mindedly raise her hand to her stomach. As her hand came to rest on the belly of the striped dress I will remember forever. I finally got it. There is something unique about that cradling of the stomach. I recognized it instantly.
I may have missed the morning sickness, the loss of appetite, the fatigue, the weepiness, the abstinence from alcohol, the avoidance of rides not recommended for expectant mothers and her magnet-like attraction to every diaper-clad child at Walt Disney World. I may have even missed the message that I believe was sent to me from mousekeeping and from the man upstairs, and maybe even from Walt Disney, himself. It all went right over my head! But I caught the placement of that hand.
It’s now her turn to build the nest.
Additionally, the old pour-a-coke-in-a-diaper-and-tie-it-to-the-stroller-handle-trick Dis board controversy came to mind. Another that came to mind was: "What was that I read about 
