Another Gray Hair

Disney Lesson #1

WARNING: I've just returned from Disney World and have it on the brain.

The joy, the pain, the financial burden, it all adds up to an often unforgettable, frequently unbearable, and undeniably fantastic experience for the family. While we are regulars at the happiest place on earth, this was a trip of firsts. It was the first time we camped (on property at Fort Wilderness) and the first time we went during the holidays. The camping experience was fabulous. Ugly Dawg was good to us and it beats the heck out of any hotel room. I do long for a camper with a shower and bathroom but I'm grateful for the Dawg and look forward to many more years of fun within her climate controlled vinyl walls.

I'm going to share some lessons from Disney World with my readers. Here's lesson number one:

Never, EVER underestimate the price of a product or service at Disney World.

As I've mentioned before, my son has a healthy Star Wars addiction. It's something both my husband and I support as we both loved the movies as children and take a certain measure of pride in his newfound discovery of the series and characters. After making a B-line to the Star Tours ride at Hollywood Studios on Day one of our Disney vacation, my son noticed someone getting their face painted like Darth Maul. He spent the remainder of the week obsessing about it and, overcome by the palpable Disney Magic (sure, it sounds like a myth people but it effects you, even the hardcore skeptics like myself) in the air, we relented promising to return to the Studios to get his face painted later in the week. Later in the week turned out to be our last day. I'm a theme park multi-tasker so I handed my husband $15, surrendered custody of both my kids, and took off across the park for a fastpass. My walk was shorter than I'd planned so I came back quickly to find my husband in line to get the kids' faces painted (my daughter had to have hers painted as well). He pointed to the cash in his hand and shook his head animatedly from side to side. What? $15 isn't enough for two face paintings? Are you kidding?

As it turns out, $15 was barely enough for one face painting. That is the going rate, in fact, for the "Sinister Sith" AKA Darth Maul face painting. My daughter's less-sinister, "sparkle kitty" paint job ran a mere $12. So, yes, I dropped $27 on two face paintings that took all of five minutes. The most painful part? There's a clown here in Cleveland, TN that does face paintings at just about every local event/party for $1 a pop and her work is JUST AS GOOD! She doesn't do "Sinister Sith," mind you but she does a rockin' "Sparkle Kitty."

So, folks, lesson learned: Never, EVER underestimate the price of a product or service at Disney World. You and your wallet will live to regret it!

Family Wedding Part Deux

My gratitude to my Aunt Janet's neighbor for letting us stay in her home cannot be fully expressed. As someone who despises hotel rooms, particularly with children, and despises spending $120/night on a hotel room even more, I was more than happy to park my family in the home of a kind stranger. My guess is that the neighbor didn't quite know what she was getting into. Given the house's close proximity to all of the wedding action and the presence of five very active children, our home away from home turned into the indoor playground for the kids. There was so much chaos over at Aunt Janet's house that the presence of one five-year-old, let alone three of them, was like throwing gasoline on an already out of control fire.

Not wanting the flames to reach the expertly quaffed and sprayed-to-the-hilt hair of the women of the family, we opted to let the kids hang out in the neighbor's house. She had a large basement with lots of open space and the kids set up camp down there. It was raining most of the time we were in Maryland so we let them go a little wild. And wild they went. They built forts with cushions, did some major running and jumping, screamed, laughed, sang, played and had a ridiculous amount of fun. Listening to them was both enjoyable and disconcerting at the same time because of the sheer volume of their play. We let them go, though, because our main concern was burning energy.

We took for granted that we would have the house to ourselves during our stay. This was a mistake. We failed to account for the fact that maybe the kindly neighbor would forget her shoes on Friday and have to stop by mid-evening to pick them up; or that she may have to stop by on Saturday to pick up her invitation with directions to the reception. I was standing in the dining room of my Aunt's house on Friday evening, looking out the window. I had just left the neighbor's house and knew the scene: five kids going ballistic in the basement reaching volumes that most humans aren't capable of and my husband and cousin sitting in the living room, drinking beer and chatting. I did a little play by play:

Me: Oh my gosh the neighbor lady is here! She's getting her mail.

Mom (staying with us in the house and well aware of the scene): No she's not!

Me: Yep.

Mom: Oh no, she's not going in is she?

Me: It doesn't appear that she is going in.

Mom: Thank God.

Me: No kidding.

I was wrong. I had gone to the window after her entry into the home where she found my husband and cousin chatting casually, drinking beer, completely unaffected by the utter chaos going on downstairs in her home. I bet she was horrified. She probably thought we'd let a traveling circus stay in her basement. Sean and Janet said she played it cool and smiled politely but they were caught off guard. I'm perplexed as to whether I should send her a thank-you note, an apology, or both; and I'm pretty sure I'll include a complimentary Xanax.

ADD

I'm feeling a little random and ADD today so here goes:

I'm joining the throngs of stiletto-clad women and hitting the Cineplex to see Sex & the City tonight. I won't, however, be wearing Jimmy Choos. I don't own any. Spending $500 on a pair of shoes is so far out of the realm of possibilities for me that I can't quite wrap my head around it. I'm saving up for a screen door people. I've got no business spending $500 on anything. If you are out at the theater in Cleveland, TN tonight (there's really only one), look for me. I'll be the one in the ball cap and tennis shoes.

My son has made some strides in swimming lessons so far this summer. His reaction to getting his face wet changed from that of someone getting one of their limbs cut off with a dull knife to that of someone getting their finger tip cut off with a sharp knife. Progress is progress, right?

In Ugly Dawg news (take a look at her new logo—every camper needs a logo), I attempted to book a camping trip for Father's Day weekend (we're going with my parents) and was quoted $149 for one site for two nights. TWO NIGHTS! That's more than the-bomb-dot-com Fort Wilderness in Disney World and this is a little ol' town in Tennessee near the Smokies! I nearly drove the campground staff lady crazy with questions about location, proximity to water, playground, etc… and never even asked about cost. I was getting ready to give her my credit card number when she spilled the beans about the price. I shared with her how utterly absurd I thought that price was and politely declined to give her my credit information. I found an alternative for $28/night, bringing the grand total for both of our sites to $37 less than the cost of ONE of the sites at the other place.

Speaking of Fort Wilderness, I'm obsessed right now with my trip that is 187 days away. Do you know how I know that? Because my Walt Disney World trip planner tells me every time I log on. I've also joined a Fort Wilderness discussion board (yes, there is one) and can't stop reading it. I need to get a grip. Ugly Dawg's going to get a lot of miles on her before December.

Beaver Fever

This weekend was Ugly Dawg's inaugural trip. She treated us well and we had a great time on our annual Stone Mountain adventure. The weather was beautiful, there wasn't a dead body to be found and, best of all, we were NOT in a tent.

My friend, Jacquelyn, and I tend to be pretty chill about our kids getting dirty and having fun. The same cannot be said for our husbands. Twice Jacquelyn and I were met with subtle contempt when we let our kids run wild a bit. The first time was atop Stone Mountain where, unlike years past, there were several puddles left by recent rains. The puddles were filled with a soot-like substance. While this may sound like a cesspool, these puddles are not exactly teaming with life. This was new rain on a mountain made completely of stone. They were clean, in a very dirty way. The kids started wading in the puddles and we did nothing to stop it. Our husbands fought us initially but gave up and distanced themselves from the entire scene. They sat on a rock several yards back, quietly judging us and watching onlookers do the same. I will admit that I did not see another child running through the mud but I cannot do that without also acknowledging that I did not witness another child having nearly as much fun as ours were. They were filthy little mongrels having the time of their life. I relished every moment of it.

The next day we all took a little hike through the woods at the base of the mountain. There are some short trails, perfect for young children. The hike led us on a bridge over a stream. The kids were hot and at the height of their afternoon, I-need-a-nap lull. What better anecdote for a case of the naps than some cool mountain stream wading? We consulted our husbands briefly about allowing the kids to get a little wet. Their response was predictably negative. My husband, however, took us by surprise when he mentioned the possibility of the ever-menacing "beaver fever." We both laughed and I tried to suppress thoughts of a 16-year-old boy, headed out to a party on Saturday night telling his buddies that he had a bad case of "beaver fever." Yes, I'm a little twisted, but it made me laugh. It's making me laugh even as I type this.

Still skeptical of the existence of "beaver fever", we decided to take a chance and let our kids wade in the mountain stream. They loved every minute of it. A google search upon returning home revealed that beaver fever is a legitimate condition. I'm happy to report that despite the warnings to the contrary, every one of our children remains beaver fever free.

Ugly Dawg

I would like to formally welcome our gently (OK, this may be a stretch)-used pop-up trailer into the household. Lovingly dubbed, "Ugly Dawg" by my camping-enthusiast friend Jacquelyn because of the presence of a very sweet but aesthetically-challenged dog on the property where we purchased it, the trailer is sitting in my drive-way, begging me to take it somewhere. Sure, she might have a dent or two in her exterior and a couple patches of duct tape but ol' Ugly Dawg has it where it counts: AC, hot water, and a giant storage container. She hasn't got a leak on her and can be easily pulled by our minivan. 

So, if you see a gently used pop-up being pulled by a blue minivan cruising by you on the interstate, give her a honk. It's Ol' Ugly Dawg heading out for some memory makin' in the woods somewhere with the Hale family.

We're heading to Stone Mountain Memorial Day weekend. Our goal is to skip the repeat of last year and NOT find a dead body in our campsite. It's lofty I know but say a little prayer that we can accomplish it. Oh, and we'd also prefer not to be haunted by her ghost. That would be a nice bonus.

Vacation

We're on vacation this week and spent today in the wonderland that is Dolly-in-da-hood. My son did me proud and proved that he is no longer a ride wuss. He's a thrill-seeker now! My daughter, um, not so much. She was more of a fried chicken/biscuit seeker, enjoying the country cooking that is abound in Dolly Parton's theme park. She spent the thirty  minutes following lunch walking at a snail's pace throughout the park, gnawing on a chicken leg.

We went to Smoky Mountain National Park yesterday and saw all manner of spring blooms and wildlife, including an adorable otter sitting on a rock. I was the only one that saw him (we were in the car) and, although I believe my fellow passengers are skeptical of my experience, it was, hands down, the most exciting wildlife siting of my life. I'm determined to find an illegally domesticated otter on the black market and raise him as my pet. Yep, I'm only one person but I can do my part for nature and give an unsuspecting otter a life of American gluttony. It's my civic duty.

I must say that the Pigeon Forge/Gatlinburg area is a literal cesspool of weapons outlets, rebel flag merchandise, restaurant franchises and airbrushing vendors but it is redeemed entirely by the Smoky Mountain National Park. I could spend the entire week there and never get bored.

The DB

For the past two years we have gone camping with our good friends, the Byrne's, over Memorial Day weekend. We go to Stone Mountain in Georgia and have three days of fishing, talking, drinking and having a laid back, fantastic time. We always book the same campsite: a little slice of heaven on a peninsula, surrounded on three sides by water. The site boasts the perfect spot for our tent as well as a landing for the Byrne's and their, we're-too-good-for-a-tent-travel-trailer (just kidding Jacquelyn and Michael). It is a perfect campsite and we rebook it each May a full year in advance.

As some of you may remember, there was some rain on our Memorial Day parade last year in the form of a dead body we found floating in the waters of our campsite on the last day. In order to protect our children from what happened, we lovingly dubbed her, "The DB." Suffice it to say, the DB cast a black shadow over what was otherwise a great vacation. It took me a month or so but I was finally able to face what happened with some semblance of humor and not have "I see dead people" visions of that woman anytime I found myself in the dark. I was worried I would never be the same again but, alas, I am.

I'm the same chic with the same campsite booked for the same weekend this year and I desperately want to go. We have had lengthy discussions with the Byrnes about the possibility of returning to the site this year. Should we do it? Can we handle it? Will we freak out? Will I see her face as I walk the 100 feet to the bathhouse in the dark? Will I have panic attacks every time I walk out of my tent? Will we sit around the fire at night discussing every detail of the DB incident, obsessing about it? And, my personal favorite, will we find another DB floating in the banks of our campsite on Monday morning and find ourselves trapped in a LOST-like slice of the space/time continuum?

Will the DB cast a dark shadow on our return trip to Stone Mountain?

The site is booked and we want to go. What would you do?

She Got Game

I rarely use my portable DVD player. I see moms picking up their kids from school and flipping down the screen as soon as their kids are in the car but I refuse to do this for many reasons, not the least of which is that my DVD player is not one of those handy dandy in dash numbers that is super easy to operate. It involves wires, some complicated button pushing and generally too much effort for my lazy arse. I'd love to get on my high horse and say that my kids don't watch the TV very often because I want to ensure optimum communication time in the car but, while I agree with that platform, it just wouldn't be honest. It all boils down to convenience for me. Of all mothers in the world, I have the most motivation to keep my TV on. My son expects full participation in vehicle "games" while we are riding, even if it is just to the CVS on the corner to get a gallon of milk. My daughter is, I'm sorry to say, following suit with this expectation.

Before I am able to put the van in Drive in the morning, my son says, "Mommy, can we play a game?" This question is as reliable as the sunrise but I still cringe a little whenever he asks it, especially if I'm in a hurry or flustered. I always concede though because, really, what else am I going to do? Listen to some music? Gather my thoughts? Create a mental grocery list? Come on! Those are things that only people without children can do, right? So I play the game. We have a variety of games we play, including Construction Site, DisneyWorld, DollyWood, Train, Family and Baby, but they all boil down to the same theme: my son is some type of authority figure and my daughter and I are merely spectators, patrons or some type of subordinate. My son's voice gets about three octaves lower and I am given a series of lines to recite. My daughter and I also have to act out minor things like opening doors, fastening seat belts and giving money. My son refuses to move on to the next activity until we do. I am just resigned to doing what I'm told. Its easier that way.

Until the Christmas break things were simple and went according to my master plan. I'd play the game until my son got out of the car and went to school and then I'd turn on my favorite radio station and rock out a little while my daughter and I drove home. Things have changed. My rockin' out days are numbered. Today, as we were pulling out of my son's school parking lot, my daughter said, "Mommy, can we play a game?"

My heart stopped. I had just turned on the radio and was singing Alicia Key's No one at the top of my lungs. I love that song and would have taken great pleasure in finishing it out but I turned the radio off, did my best to sound chipper and said, "Sure. What game do you want to play?"

Baby Daddy

Just when you thought your small Tennessee town couldn't get any lamer, you get news that knocks your socks off. News that could change the face of your sleepy, little town. News that could bring the Paparazzi. That's right, folks, Jamie Lynn Spears (Brit's 16-year-old sister) is knocked up. What does this have to do with Cleveland, Tennessee you ask? Well, it turns out that the Baby Daddy works at a paper mill here in town.

Why does this please me so? I guess the prospect of seeing my little town on the pages of In Touch Weekly excites me more than I care to admit. I can just see the new welcome signs on the edges of town:

Welcome to Cleveland, Tennessee: Home of Britney Spear's sister's Baby Daddy.

The tourism industry is bound to explode.

***CORRECTION: My friend Alyson has informed me that The Baby Daddy's Father lives in Cleveland, TN; not the Baby Daddy himself. Bummer. I guess the sign would actually read:

Welcome to Cleveland, Tennessee: Home of Britney Spear's sister's Baby Daddy's Daddy.

Not quite as good, but I'll take it.

Civilian PIs and Creme Brule

It is taking every ounce of will power I have not to dedicate an entire blog entry to the creme brulee that I had on Wednesday night at Jiko, an African restaurant known as as €œThe Cooking Place€ nestled in the Animal Kingdom Lodge in Walt Disney World. Those of you who know me are probably not surprised by this. I love food, especially high quality food. That is part of the appeal of Disney World: you can take the whole family out to a five star restaurant. I can€'t think of any other place on earth where you can order from one of the best wine lists in the country while your child feasts on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on rainbow bread.

Back to the creme brulee: it was flavored with ground pistachios, situated atop a bed of dark chocolate and perfectly torched to a candied shell deliciousness on top. It was perfect.

I digress.

On Friday night we took the whole family to the California Grille, one of the nicest restaurants on Disney property. A couple feet down from us, seated at the bar, were some familiar faces. We enjoyed our sushi and flat bread appetizers while the kids feasted on an elegant plate of goldfish and tried our best to figure out who those people were. My husband, his curiosity peaked, got up to take our son to the bathroom. He came back and said, "We'€™ve got some Doodlebop action at three-o-clock."

I was surprised by my own reaction, "€œNO WAY!"€

We had just seen the Doodlebops in concert the day prior and the kids loved it. They danced with much more enthusiasm than good ol Britney at the VMA'€™s this weekend and Sean and I were pleasantly surprised at the quality of the show. It felt like a preschool rock concert.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Doodlebops, they are an extremely popular preschool singing group that have a half hour show on the Disney Channel. Unlike their Australian counterpart The Wiggles, the Doodlebops wear a great deal of make-up and elaborate costumes so they have the benefit of a relatively normal existence outside of the whacked-out Doodlebop world. Except of course, when they are in the presence of civilian PI€™s like my husband who can spot them a mile away, even without the blue hair. We decided to keep our Doodlebop sighting on the DL to protect our kids from the harsh reality that Moe Doodle is, in fact, a small man with black hair in designer duds munching on flat bread at the bar. My husband, always stretching the limits of his own dorkiness,  couldn'€™t resist a little poke at Moe on the way out. He tapped him on the back and said, "€œGreat show Moe!"€ I averted my eyes and ran towards the elevator.