It Began with a BBFT

    We experienced Disney for the first time as parents last year for a long weekend with the twins --to try to squeeze it in before we became of family of 6. We were fortunate enough to go again this year in conjunction with a work conference, this time with a crowd.  Ryan and I, and a few of our friends--Jessica and Jason, their 3 year old daughter Campbell and Eric and Melissa and their 4 year old daughter Adelyn planned a trip to Disney World. We were smart and ditched--I mean arranged childcare--for our younger and coincidentally male children (Ben, Jack, Cole and Oliver, we love you very much but you all are still wildcards). We made it a surprise trip for the girls, mainly because we didn't want to answer 'how many sleeps until Disney?" every hour on the hour.  So we packed our bags with wands, princess dresses, crowns, autograph books and snacks and we set off to the house of the mouse.

How was it?  In short, it was awesome. Mickey did not disappoint.

However, in keeping with the general theme of the true grit of parenthood blog that I intermittently keep, I must give you all the details.  The good with the bad.

You have seen the commercials for Disney World, right? Everyone is laughing, smiling, spinning and dancing--usually with a character or two (I apparently missed the line for the 'galavant around with Mickey and Minnie' ride).  Here is the full disclosure part for those Disney virgins out there--there is some false advertising going in those commercials. Yes sir. Any parent that has been to the big D knows that those magical moments do in fact occur--otherwise why would we do it? I'll get to those later, BUT the glamorous commercials are missing some key components to what actually goes on at Disney. For obvious reasons they have omitted what I like to call the un-magical moments of Disney. The sweaty munchkins passed out cold in strollers or on their even sweatier parents, mickey ears askew, legs splayed out, remnants of a Mickey ice cream bar dried onto their tear streaked faces. They edited out the tantrums. They must have one heck of an editing team because the tantrums are quite ubiquitous. There is an official ratio of 4 crying kids for every 1 happy commercial kid. I did the math. They aren't just your average check out line tantrums either, they are of epic proportion. It makes for some pretty darn good people watching.  I secretly find pleasure in watching non Battles children melt down, and when they are clad in a couple hundred dollars of disney paraphernalia that ratchets up the entertainment factor for sure.   I'm pretty sure I saw a mom walk away from her insane toddler, sit down and burst into tears.  I wish we could say that our little entourage was immune from this un-magical side and only the most picture perfect times were experienced by our young tourists, but alas, we definitely had very edit worthy moments that would end up on the Disney cutting room floor. I have blocked out most of them but a couple of the most comical include:

-The morning of the anticipated (and costly) princess breakfast arrived and my little princesses were beside themselves with grumpiness. I could hardly get them out of bed. Lydia was in tears because Grace had used her toothbrush (they are exactly the same and were in the same cup so I'm not sure how she determined which one was hers). Grace was in tears because of who knows what and soon I was grabbing their little upper arms and whispering furtively (lest we wake up other grumpy princes and princesses in our hotel) "Mommy and Daddy have a very special morning with princesses planned and if you continue to act up I will punish you right in front of Cinderella, I don't even care!"
-Campbell nearly had a melt down because when we met Ariel (the little mermaid) the second time she had legs and not a mermaid tail. This was not cool in Campbell's book and Ariel had to do some pretty fancy footwork (pardon the pun) to talk her off of the ledge.
- Addie instantly escalated into full tears and wailing mode when young Campbell (who has yet to see the movie Mulan) innocently yet confidently stated to Addie (who currently has Mulan ranked as #1 princess) "Mulan is a witch!".   Addie's 4 year old heart was shattered into a million princess pieces and her tears about Mulan's reputation then triggered Campbell's tears and wailing. Thankfully Grace and Lydia were busy hitting each other with their glow wands or we might have had quite the brawl.
-Lydia, during a moment of defiance about who knows what, yelled "I am just like Merida (from the movie Brave) and I WILL NOT LISTEN TO MY PARENTS!"  How is that for a role model?  Lydia apparently forgot that Merida's disobedience caused her mom to be turned into a bear--or maybe she thought having a mother as a bear was small price to pay for being her own boss. Who knows.

I hate to say it but there is some truth in advertising with those commercials. Granted, we did not get to run through the park with Mickey and Minnie and the gang but we definitely had our share of 'magical' moments. How could you not with 4 little girls waltzing around if full princess attire?  That alone was pretty fun to see. Watching the girls all dressed up, beaming from ear to ear, waving their little arms and yelling their hearts out to the princesses on the parade floats seems ridiculous to be sentimental about but I have to honestly say it practically brought tears to my eyes!  Sounds crazy but I think it is because a place like Disney really captures the essence of the innocence, imagination and pure joy of childhood.  They are at an age where they still like to dress up, to dance without any hint of self consciousness, to pretend, to imagine--and as a parent I find myself holding tight to this phase--afraid that it will slip from my grasp all too quickly. So, to be at Disney was to be at a place that really embodied this age of 'enchantment' and I truly savored watching my little girls get to be just that--pure, innocent, princess loving, twirling, smiling little girls--that's where the commercial gets it right.  Though we all know that with any trip, or vacation or even a stage of life there are those un-magical moments that challenge and frustrate us but it's the 'magical moments'--the ones that are unique to each stage and phase of life that truly outweigh and outshine(or at least this trip they did) the 'un-magical' ones (though they do make for some funny stories).

We recently experienced the first broken bone of the family--Lydia broke her arm. How, you ask? A trampoline? The monkey bars? Scooter accident? No. No. and No. None of the usual suspects. She fell off the bed. Not a bunk bed or even a fall from jumping on the bed. Just fell off of our bed. Very boring. My kids are always crashing and are quite adventurous on the playground but surprisingly they have come away unscathed. Ben fell out of my parents loft recently--he was fine. Grace fell off the monkey bars at church--again, fine. Lydia innocently tries to scamper onto our bed, falls off and then --BAM-- broken arm. When she tells it somehow Ryan's underwear always get thrown into the story (which is lovely when she is telling it to strangers).  When it happened she let out a blood curdling scream which is not usual for Lydia who is known for having a very low 'scream threshold' whether it is an injury, she has to throw up, a stolen toy or an insult--doesn't matter--same crazy scream.  This time was maybe a little longer than her usual but was then followed by much more drama than is typical of Lydia (she screams big but then recovers fine, the same cannot be said for Grace who will happily entertain you with a list of her current ailments) and she looked like she was about to puke and we knew something was up. I was nearly certain that she had broken it but I didn't want to be that parent who rushes their kid to urgent care at the slightest injury so we iced and motrined her up and turned on a movie as a distraction. Long story short when she could barely move it and it was swollen despite the ice, we decided to get an x-ray which clearly showed her break so she got an adorable pink cast that Grace eyed with great envy (shout out to Dr. K for all of her amazing help).

So, it's been an interesting month. I had the girls signed up for a gymnastics class at the community center that we had to cancel due to the broken arm. A side note about the excursion to cancel--as I was at the desk canceling the class, Lydia starts screaming (same scream of course) and I look over and she is stuck halfway up the climbing wall on their indoor playground! So, I ran across the foyer to rescue her, leaving baby Jack sitting with the desk ladies. Just when I got back to the desk Ben starts hollering--another child stuck on the freaking climbing wall!  Across the foyer I jogged yet again, all this under the scornful eyes of some of the--ahem--older patrons of the center who seem to have forgotten the trials of raising kids. At this point Lydia was loudly crying since she has been forbidden to climb the wall with her broken arm (such a mean mom) and the ladies at the desk had to shower her with stickers to get her to calm down. I have really tried to keep her off of scooters, bikes and the like but man it's hard. For example, the fateful injury occurred about 2 weeks before their 5th birthday (at one point she cried "I won't be able to eat my cake as well!!!"). We had already arranged for a bounce house (I know, I know. yes. a bounce house. feel free to judge but it was awesome. stay tuned) and the kids were all geared up for it. We were more worried about the other kids being mauled by a rock hard pink cast so we covered her arm in inflatable floaties (thanks Donna for the idea) and miraculously no one was hurt.

It is definitely different being on the other end of things. I flippantly sentence kids to casts and discuss cast care with families on a daily basis and let me apologize to all of those families right now. It is NOT easy keeping that thing clean and dry. We finally ended up using a trash bag with glad press and seal (miraculous stuff) but it was always a fight and the cast never stayed dry. never.

It is nearly behind us now. We had the cast removed a week ago. Sadly, it was not 100% healed so she is supposed to wear a splint when she is 'active' (so you mean when she is awake?). To be honest, I have been less than compliant about that. The day after her cast was off they learned to ride 2 wheelers without training wheels. Splint free.  I didn't think they were going to be that active when we ventured outside, the bike thing just kind of happened.  However, today when she crashed her bike and a neighbor we have never met had to carry her home, with a ridiculously fat lip and dripping blood from the mouth onto our lovely neighbor's white shirt she had her splint on!   Hurray!

I just gotta say, I am definitely bumping to the higher insurance plan for our family next year. You just never know.

I hadn't planned on potty training Benson until he was at least 3. I am a lazy potty trainer. I really just want to wait until they are so tired of diapers that they train themselves. I am still recovering from potty training the twins--with one bathroom no less. However, Benson, just shy of 2 1/2 decided that he was ready. It all started when he was naked in our back yard and he realized he could pee on the grass (why was he naked, you ask? well a pool membership is out of my parental comfort zone these days but a bin filled with water and cups in my fenced in backyard is right up my alley--and the dress code is very loose at our backyard aquatic center). His sisters of course thought that was awesome and poured on the positive reinforcement. This is how I learned that Ben can indeed pee on command.

We worked on this 'backyard au naturale technique' as I have decided to call it for a couple of days and then moved on to the actual potty. I have to state the obvious that the logistics with boys is very different than girls. You really have to keep a watchful eye on the direction of it all if you know what I mean. It takes vigilance and antibacterial wipes when that vigilance wanes either on the part of the potty trainee or the potty trainer.

Soon we decided it was time for the next step--underwear.  Grace personally selected a pair of her princess underwear (with 3 princesses on the front--why commit to just one?) as his inaugural pair. Ben isn't ashamed of his love for Ariel and Belle and was prancing around proudly showing off his new skivvies. His manhood was eventually preserved thanks to a donation of Thomas the train briefs from 4 year old Kieran next door.  Ben was most excited about the hand me down aspect than the Thomas aspect and he kept looking down and screaming "Kieran's underwear!"

We instituted a treat system too--a chocolate chip for #1 and a sucker for #2. Ben perseverates on this and as soon as he is on the potty its like a button has been pushed and he just starts chanting over and over in toddlerese: "IpeeindapottyIgettachoccatchip!" or "IpoopindapottyIgettasuckah!" depending on what he is working on until aforementioned treat is given. I have also learned that this is his 2 year old method of telling us he needs to go. Just yesterday we were in a store and I could hear Ben who was on the other side of the store with my mom saying "IpoopindapottyIgettasuckah! IpoopindapottyIgettasuckah!" and my mom who wasn't sure what he was saying (understandably so) was amicably agreeing with him.  At first I didn't really pay attention to it and then I realized what he was trying to tell us and I bolted from my conversation with the shop owner mid sentence and hustled him to the bathroom. His Toy Story undies took a little bit of a hit due to my delayed reaction but were salvageable.

The other day I was on the phone with a friend (which I rarely do because inevitably as soon as I answer the kids sense that I am preoccupied and all heck breaks loose--this was no exception) and Lydia and Grace came running up from the basement yelling "Ben is trying to put dog poop on us!"  Ben was hot on their heels waving his brown hand in the air at his screaming sisters. I got up in a huff to throw Bocce out in the rain and deal with the clean up when I noticed Ben reaching down the back of his pants and I realized that Bocce was unfairly blamed. I rushed a waddling Ben to the bathroom (he is of course muttering "IpoopindapottyIgettasuckah") where he finished the job in the right place. We clapped and celebrated and of course handed out suckers to all. I had to then go sniffing around the basement on a poop hunt to find Ben's trail which thankfully only included the top of the toy box, Grace's hand and Lydia's heel. I absolutely threw out his underwear too. Best $1.50 I've spent in a long time.

 On a more positive note, we have lots of mini celebrations around the house these days for accomplishments on the potty which makes for more of a party atmosphere on a daily basis--who doesn't love that?. The whole family's bowel and bladder habits have never been more celebrated than when we are in the midst of potty training--since the trainee doesn't understand that the rest of us have it mastered and don't need chocolate chips, suckers or an impromptu dance party for using the toilet
. I remember the twins practically throwing a mardi gras parade for me in various public bathrooms "Mommy, you peed in the potty! Hurray!" which was entertaining to many in neighboring stalls I'm sure.  I'm pretty secure about my use of the facilities but it never hurts to have a little positive reinforcement here and there, right? In Benson's defense he has been doing very well, especially since I hadn't planned on even attempting this process for at least another 6-12 months.

So, 2.5 kids potty trained. 1.5 to go. Maybe Jack will be so lucky as to have his progress documented for his future wife as well. Stay tuned.

Sadly, the annual vacation had to come to an end. This is a letdown on multiple levels-- we are saying goodbye to family members--some for a few weeks but some for another year until we meet again. We are leaving our beloved Hilton Head--whose beaches, palm trees and live oak trees are like a balm to our overworked souls. Most of all because now we have to DRIVE HOME!!!  Commence the cheek slapping home alone scream. So, rafts were deflated, sand was shaken out of nearly everything, suits were washed and hung to dry and then it all was stuffed into bags and boxes and crates and miraculously it all made it back into our respective vehicles. We stayed in the same hotel on the way home but we learned from our original follies (see post: Vacation Part 1: Getting there) and made the following changes:
1. Ryan, our resident storyteller, wove a beautiful story involving the aforementioned scary flower (again, see Vacation part I). In his story the 'scary eyes' were actually not eyes at all but were magic seeds or something. I'm pretty sure he included a fairy or a princess so they seemed to buy it and weren't quite so disturbed.

2. We put Grace, Lydia and Ben in one room and kept the wildcard Jack with us.

3. We gave each child their own 'bed'.  Ben got the rolls royce of beds--the baby bjorn pack n play (side note: best pack n play ever), Grace slept on the couch, and Lydia slept on a bed made of an armchair combined with the desk chair (the chair-chair bed). This genius idea came from my parents who know a little something about squishing a lot of kids in one room. I slept many a night on the 'chair-chair bed' in my younger years.

4. I will neither confirm nor deny the involvement of a certain over the counter sedative marketed for allergies. Enough said.

So, our little meercats kept their heads down for the bulk of the evening other than when Grace fell off the couch, Miss lydia needed her chair-chair bed adjusted because the chair and separated from the other chair which negated the bedness of it and when Lydia sprang from her chair-chair bed to throw up in the toilet (yes, that's right folks, she made it to the toilet this time). Which leads to the other interesting part of the drive home.

The explosions of bodily fluid--from both ends (kids only--Ryan and I were miraculously spared). Despite the liberal use of anti-nausea meds we still had one major vomiting incident and it was definitely a story for the family archives. We had just made a stop to let the kids out of their 5 point harness prisons, feed Jack and caffeinate ourselves at none other than Starbucks (the starbucks app is a godsend on vacations). There had been no puking since the night before and all seemed well. The only hint of things to come was the fact that Grace, who has a love affair with food, apparently did not finish her entire cake pop--I was unaware of this as I was changing Jack during the cake pop party. Had I known this subtle but very telling piece of information my maternal alarm would have been tripped and the upcoming scene might have been avoided. Hindsight is 20/20 and ultimately it makes for a good story so I hold no one responsible.  Two minutes after we pulled out of the Starbucks parking lot Grace put both hands up to her mouth and started screaming something. I turned around and quickly realized by her panicked face, puffed out cheeks and muffled cries of 'I'm going to throw up' that something needed to be done. I was hollering for her not to throw up and simultaneously grabbed the only bag nearby--a ziplock bag of high end snacks (thanks to Brent of sprigbox.com for the snacks) Ryan had packed for the two of us. I hurdled the center console, the cooler between the middle seats, about 100 toys that had been dropped by Benson and reached Grace just in time to hold the bag to her face.  At this point I was balancing on the one leg that was able to fit amidst all of the junk and using both of my hands to create a seal around Grace's exorcist mouth, all while the van was still moving. Miraculously most of the vomit went into the bag--about 10% of it ended up on her dress and 10% of it managed to make it on my face and t-shirt and in my hair. I felt like a collective cheer from the universe should have occurred at that moment for what I had achieved. Instead I heard:

Lydia: "Mom, are you giving Grace snacks? I want some snacks!!"
Ryan: "Was that the bag with my snacks in it?" (I think he was joking but the timing just wasn't right)

Later that day Ben was crying about diapers and poop and who knows what else but he had been crying about a million other things throughout the trip so we kind of ignored him. It wasn't until we got home that we realized that he had been sitting in a pool of diarrhea that was now up his back, down his legs and all over his carseat. So our first task upon arrival in Columbus was to throw him in the tub and the carseat cover back into the wash

Once we finally made it back  I vowed not to put the kids back into the minivan for at least a month and no long car trips until they are teenagers.We were low on rest but full of more vacation memories to add to the collection. We finally have everything back where it belongs.

Despite all of the hairy vacation tales, we are already looking forward to next year. Why do we do this every year? and honestly sometimes I ask myself the same thing when I am leaning over the mini van seat slightly nauseous and trying to hand out the hourly snacks to the hollering masses? Because time marches on--we will have new babies (shout out to Katie's little Ella that will be here soon) and this year's infant will be next year's crawler and this years crawler will be the next spontaneous pool hopper that we have to strap floaties to at all times, and this years pool hopper (ahem, Ben) will hopefully be next year's triumphant swimmer--or at least a little less compulsive around the water. I for one do not want to miss a minute of it--even if it might involve a little puke.