Sweet Mother of Fudge Ch. 1

 Okay, this is the second trip report I wrote on the Disboards. I'm moving them over one chapter at a time so I have them on my blog here. So the dates and ages are off a bit (for those of you who know me well.)

If you are a fan of my last trip report, I'm sure there is a cream your doctor can prescribe for you. Until you get that appointment, here's my latest offering.

Our plans were five days and six nights in The World. It's been almost two years since our last proper visit. My parents work seasonally at Disney, so we get the perks provided for friends and family. Because of this we're able to go every year with the kids. This year we set up our visit to correspond with my grandfather's 90th birthday party. We sandwiched visits to my parents home in Florida on either end. So I was packing for four separate events, the traveling, the parent visit, the party, and The World.

Here's an excerpt from my pre trippy:

I guess I should list our cast members again just for hoots and Hollers.

"Me, Debra, I've been a Stay at home mom for over 9 years now. I've done many things to hustle some dolla bills. Like Ebay, daycare, etc. Now both kids are in school. I will warn you now, I find potty humor irresistible. Get out now if you find it unappealing. Run fast. And don't read my other trip report. I'm 33, just a few weeks from 34.

Him, Mr. A.  He is smart. Very smart. He hides it well.

Boychild (BC) My son just turned 9 years old. He was born a gentleman. I really can't take credit for how wonderful he is. It's in his soul and eyes. He is pure goodness and takes after his father. He holds doors, is polite, bangingly smart, and so appreciative of anything he receives. He'll be an amazing man.

Girlchild (GC) My girl just turned 6. She's trouble. She takes after me. Poor thing. She's feisty, and funny. She loves music and animals. She walks the tightrope of tomboy and princess like a pro. I love that. I love that she can be in her princess dress holding a frog in each hand. She has potty humor too (like these kids had a choice.)

Grandma. My mom. She'll be on board for our trip. Really, she just likes alone time with the kids. She's the source of all my evil powers and weird impulses. She's adorable and looks like everyone's favorite grandma. She has a way of talking to people that puts them at ease and allows her to tell them anything. Lipstick on your teeth? Fly unzipped? Grandma has got your back.

Grandpa. He's a saint. He's a hard working, very funny guy. He loves playing with the kids. And they are crazy about him. This year, he should appear more in my trip report, because he'll be with us every evening and two days in parks.

I'm jonesing for Disney. I can't lie. Our One day sneaky visit was last April. I need my Disney. I like once a year, long leisurely vacation. Almost decadent use of tickets and time. Hot? Let's go to the pool for a few hours.. Tired? Sleep in! This year we a ripe for Disney. Ripe. Ripe was a word Grandma always used for stinky armpits. That's about where I am now. I'm stinky for Disney.

I want my POP. I want my ADRs. I want to break in our Dining plan. What will that be like? I wonder. I'm trying to eat more now to stretch my stomach out so I can get the most bang for my buck.

Small talk. I just realized I suck at it. So bad. I have two examples for you.

I was watching my daughter's soccer game. (Which's really a blob of kids running in a pack together for 40 minutes too long at this age) And making the dreaded "small talk." The nice lady had described a restaurant and how fancy it is. Super fancy, leave the kids home and get dressed up kind of fancy. I was nodding and tried to make some noise out of my mouth to show I was paying attention. 

So I said, "So it is real Ritsy Titsy?" 

My brain stalled. I can't believe I just made up a word like Titsy and tried to pass it off in an adult conversation. So of course, this has sent me into a fit of inappropriate giggles which, to my horror, turned into an all out crying laughing, slapping my knees, farting heckle. I could hardly breathe at my own embarrassment. For Pete's sakes. It's bad enough I said it. No need for the spectacle of me dissolving in to hysterics.

Another example.

Gesturing with a tampon while talking to prominent community officials does not make your point more valid. I was digging through my purse getting my keys, when I was stopped by an important official to discuss some community issues. Not a problem, I was on my game this time. I made my case, with lots of elaborate hand gestures, as I always do when I a passionate about an issue. In horror, out of the corner of my eye, I see that I am holding not just my keys, but a tampon as well. 

My heads up response "Oh Look, I have a tampon, but I'm not on my period right now or anything."

More poor son, may have inherited this gift. The other day after eating a Peppermint Patty, he told me "Mom, every time I eat one of these cookies, I feel like I am sweating!"

 Here's another horrible story:
So I had my annual. You know, the annual. I dread it every year. Why is it you're never down far enough? You always get the, "Scootch down...Little farther" Etc.

 I decided this year I'd mix it up a little. I wanted to be the first woman to hear, "Whoa! Back up!!! Back the truck up!! Too far"

And I had to fill the sample cup. For the sample. I've issues with this because I always forget about this feat of balance and anatomy and use the potty before I need to ummm... donate. Well, this year I had a huge bottle of iced tea before I arrived. Just before I headed off to spoil the whole test, I remembered. That's right I was proud. In an urgent kind of way. After squirming in the waiting area, I was called back and handed the large sterile cup. This cup has always been a source of shame for me. My donations were always pitiful, having to ask the nurse, "Will this be enough?"

Not this time. My cup overflowth. Whoa Nellie. Holy moly. I carefully screw the top on my filled-to-the-brim cup. And then sent it through the special dual doors. (I'm secretly afraid that someone of the other side of that door will pull open their side, push open mine and say "Peeky, peeky.")

It occurs to me after I complete the transaction, I should have pored some out. Just to make it easier. For the peeky person on the other side of that specimen door. Oops.

Mickey's farts must smell like waffles and asphalt. I think. The other night we had a warm night and a warm breeze. We pulled up to the local ice cream shop that, for the love of everything holy, has a drive-thru. And they serve fresh made waffle cones. The combo of the waffles and the warm air hit us like a punch from Walt Disney himself (RIP Walt). Did this ever happen to you in your home town? We all started sniffing and dreaming of our next visit.

In preparation for the visit, we ripped a number off this bad boy everyday

And we sing. To the tune of "Oh Christmas Tree"

"Oh Disney World, Oh Disney World, We're coming to you soon, Oh Disney World, Oh Disney World we're coming to you soon. We'll be there soon, Oh Disney World, We're coming soon, oh Disney World. Oh Disney World, Oh Disney World We're coming to you, SOOOOOOOn!"

Complete with screechy out of tune voices and yodeling. While doing the universal hand motion for Disney (Making your two hands into fists and putting them like Mickey's ears on the top of your head)

The numbers got smaller and our excitement got bigger. My job was to make custom painted outfits for the kids. GC picked out Chip and Dale, Daisy and Donald, and of course, her beloved Pluto. BC was tougher. He's a little older now and was steering away from character shirts. So I made a monorail-themed one for him and a scrap book for him to get transportation driver autographs. I also made shirts for the kids to wear to my grandfather's surprise 90th (Normally, you'd shy away from surprise anything at 90, but my Poppy is a different story). At the last minute I decided to learn how to make matching hair bows for each of PS's outfits. Polymer clay and I became fast friends. I'll try and post pics here of each one. The packing was done, the pet sitter was in place. We packed the van. Tinkerbell presents were stowed away. Now it was time to go to sleep
We were blasting off at 3:30am. The kids and I were still bouncing off the walls at 2:30am. Eventually we fell sound asleep, and Mr. A woke us up one hour later. And we were off.

Up next: What's that smell? Tinkerbell Farts!!!!

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