A photo journal comprised of my thoughts on motherhood and other life happenings, as well as some of professional work as a photographer. Southern California is home.
We’ve been to Disneyland twice with the boys despite swearing that we would never take our kids to Disneyland before they were old enough to ask. That was before we had kids, when we made all sorts of declarations that were based on no experience.
Our neighbors dog got loose the other day and was missing for two days. They were out of town and had hired a dog watcher to watch them. You can imagine the stress this poor girl was under when she came home to only one of the two dogs. To make a long story short, Willy and I ended up locating the dog and to repay us, she asked if we’d like to go to Disneyland (she works there). Because we know the value of the many bucks it costs to get into that joint, we figured it’d be dumb to turn it down. So we went.
We got there early in the morning and before we even made it on the tram, Van biffed it on the stroller and fell face first onto the concrete. It was a fall that made us cringe and elicited that silent cry that transitioned into a full blown try-and-catch-your-breath kinda cry. In that moment, we felt we were doomed for the rest of the day.
But alas, we weren’t. We rode Mr. Toads Wild Ride, the carousel, Pirates in the Caribbean, The Haunted House, and the Jungle Cruise before sitting down for lunch. We didn’t wait more than 10 minutes in any of those lines, which was awesome. The line for the Jungle Cruise was a bit longer and getting Van to move with traffic was like moving a limp sack of potatoes up a hill. We hit up Toon Town after lunch and felt like we just about met our max. We inquired about where we could buy some beer, were told Disneyland is “the happiest place on earth”, and decided we would start heading toward the exit.
That’s when we learned that California Adventure does in fact sell alcohol and much to our surprise, our tickets were good for both parks. So we crossed over, filled our tanks, and lasted – with new found patience – all the way through the light parade.
All in all, a successful trip. And I even managed to put a little video together, which was no easy feat in the midst of switching over computers and all the technological bulls#$! that goes along with that.
Before Willy and I had kids, we agreed that we hated Disneyland. Yup, we’re those people. We even went so far as to say that when we did take the plunge with our own kids, we’d pay Mickey Mouse to say mean and hurtful things to them so they never wanted to go back. We were kidding, of course, but that’s our humor, so whatever.
Fast forward, or rewind (depending on how you look at it) to last week when my sister asked if we wanted to go. Her finace had never been despite the fact they live practically walking distance. We also have a relative of a close friend that works there, so we get in for a mere fraction of the price. So, we decided we’d take the plunge.
We spent the night at my sister’s the night before because driving down the 405 freeway in the morning is as dumb as going to sit on Santa’s lap the week before Christmas. Only the 405 isn’t seasonal, it’s a zoo every damn day.
We brought Sarah with us too. We bring her lots of places and I wouldn’t normally mention her presence except for the fact that it becomes pertinent to this little story. Wait for it.
My sister has two new kittens. I hate cats. You should know that about me. I’m allergic, so really it’s my allergies that hate cats.
Sarah is going to be four this year. You should know that she spent the first two years on and off antibiotics and in and out of the vet… aspiration pneumonia after being spayed, rattle snake bite, anaphylatic shock after a bee sting, possible tick bite after camping, ear infection after a trip to Arizona that became a hematoma, hives, another rattle snake bite, another bee sting with subsequent anaphylatic shock… you get the idea.
I was feeding Van when I heard a scuffle, a bark, and a hiss. Next thing we know, Sarah came in with blood coming out of her eye. Nothing is ever no-big-deal with Sarah, so of course Willy and I start to worry immediately. The bleeding stops and it’s obvious she has a cut to her third eyelid. If you knew how big the third eyelid was, you’d know that if Sarah didn’t have bad luck, she’d have absolutely no luck at all.
We spent the night tossing and turning, checking on Sarah, listening to Sarah howl in the bathroom, then letting her out only to hear her chasing the cats in the living room (she’s not the brightest), and then moving her to the garage just a few hours before those little munchkins of ours were up and ready to go.
We called Willy’s dad, who’s a bovine vet in AZ, and decided we should take Sarah in to the vet. So much for spending the night to get an early start at Disneyland.
Willy took Sarah in and two hundred dollars and three new medications later (turns out an abrasion she had on her neck was also infected), we finally made it out the door. By the time we paid $16 dollars for parking, got the kids in the stroller, waited for the elevator, waited in line for the tram, broke down the stroller to get on the tram, got through the bag check, and met up with our ticket dealer dude, honestly I felt okay with turning around to go home and calling it a successful day. We had got there, after all.
I’d say we didn’t stay long, but I think the more accurate statement is that we were there for a while but didn’t do much in that time. Waiting to get on to one ride was a feat on it’s own. We went on a total of three rides: autotopia (I thought Hooper would dig driving his own car but in actuality, letting him sit behind the wheel just meant that we had to grin and bear with smacking into the center track over and over again because his steering ability is, well, not developed), Pirates of the Caribbean (Hooper was scared and sat through the whole ride with Willy’s hat covering his face while I breastfed a tired and hungry Van), and Small World (which was actually incredibly refreshing and a nice break from the heat). Then we paid an arm and a leg for a mediocre lunch and left. And that took a total of 4+ hours.
Note to self: Don’t go to Disneyland in the summer. Just don’t. Take my word for it. Save your money.
I suppose it could be a different story when the boys’ are older… when a 45 minute wait in line doesn’t feel like a marathon.
On the brighter side, I love churros.
Have you been? What was your experience like?
And just for good measure, a photo from my first trip to Disneyland (looks like my parents may have utilized the say-mean-and-hurtful-things-to-my-kid technique, cuz’ I’m clearly not feelin’ Donald)… Side note: #CoolHairCuts
