• project 365-2017, days 8-14

    January 15, 2017 /

    Another week of 2017 has already passed. I struggle to get excited about photographing daily life right now as it all seems to look the same. We are inside a lot due to the weather (tons of rain, very little snow). We are making a lot of messes. My daily routines are not what anyone would find interesting, but I suppose that is what makes this a challenge– finding the extraordinary in the ordinary and remembering the things we would have otherwise forgotten.

    8/365
    Noelle was having an amazing hair day after a bath and fresh detangling session (which can often be extremely painful…for both of us).

    9/365

    The older two were peacefully and happily playing together, and also wearing matching shirts…which I did not plan.

    10/365
    Our drain pipe for the washer was frozen for a few days, which meant no laundry (yay) but also lots of laundry to catch up on once it thawed (boo). First order of business was washing Shiloh’s blankie. She was not happy. You can’t see her face, but she’s hysterically crying as she sees it tumbling in the dryer.

    11/365
    I honestly loathe Play Doh. However, my girls love it, and they do entertain themselves for long periods of time while playing with it. 

    12/365
    The big girls were having fun going through the clothes we have collected so far for the baby. They had fun holding each piece up and saying, “Isn’t this the cutest!?”

    13/365

    All of our girls love to be tickled. It is part of our relaxation routine. Shiloh laid down and put her leg up on Luke’s chest, which obviously meant she needed some tickles.


    14/365
    Shiloh was happily twirling in her Elsa dress (and clutching her orange sippy cup, too).
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  • project 365-2017, days 1-7

    January 8, 2017 /

    Two years ago, I started my first Project 365 challenge. The idea is you take one photo per day, each day of the year, for an entire year. I actually made it about 60-ish days into the challenge, and then for some reason I missed a day and then never started again. I was disappointed by this because I truly enjoyed photographing my family’s daily life without worrying about tons of editing or making everything look perfect. I found beauty in really small, insignificant things, and I challenged myself as a photographer to make use of unideal situations like dimly lit rooms and unattractive backgrounds. It forced me to compose photos simply by changing my own position rather than directing my subjects.

    So — after not even attempting the project last year, I decided to give it another try in 2017. I already mentioned that this would be a big year for my family, and I just feel like I need to be documenting it…routinely and consistently…so I don’t miss or forget a single thing.

    I will collect my photos into weekly posts and share a few details about what was going on in each image. If you find yourself inspired and wanting to start your own Project 365 challenge, I urge you to do it! Don’t worry about not starting on January 1. Your 365 days begin with the first click of the shutter.

    And now for week one…

    1/365

    I’m not even halfway through with this pregnancy, and I can barely see my feet. This is not good, my friends.

    2/365
    I have always obsessed over my children sleeping. They have a way of redeeming themselves when they look this peaceful, don’t they? Despite the day’s challenges, laying eyes on my sleeping babies reminds me that they are perfect and I am not.

    3/365
    Charlotte is such a little mama. She always has been. She is a nurturer, a snuggle-bug, and a caretaker. 

    4/365
    First thing this morning, Noelle was reading in her bed. She is really into her chapter books and loves her reading light.

    5/365
    I’m just keeping it real. Pregnancy is not glamorous. Sorry.

    6/365
    I caught Shiloh doing the stick-the-raspberries-on-her-fingers trick at lunch and thought it was the cutest thing. 

    7/365
    While checking out the demo progress on the house, the girls decided to flop on the old carpet (yuck). Shiloh shot me this look.

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  • the one about an accident and a gorilla

    June 1, 2016 /

    Disclaimer: This is my blog. I save my most heartfelt, from the gut thoughts for this space as opposed to Facebook because I feel like if you clicked on my link and came to my “house,” then you knew what you were about to get yourself into. Just like when my friends come to my real home, they know it is going to look like a bomb exploded, a tornado spun through, and a hurricane just blew over all at once. I’m not sorry that they see it like that because they knocked on my door. Same thing applies here. 

    If you have read my blog for a while now, you know that I write in phases. There are times when the posts keep coming and the inspiration is plenty, and there are times when it is radio silence because my mind can’t download all the thoughts that are pumping through. And that’s ok. You’re here now, and I have my motivation to write, since it has been a couple of weeks.

    It started with a gorilla.

    Yeah, you’re thinking another post about the gorilla in the zoo. (see my disclaimer above) If it bothers you to read something else on the topic, let that red X button be your friend.

    Let me first lay something out.

    I am not an animal lover. I respect animals. I admire animals of great beauty, size, and strength. I think animals are vital to our planet, and I would never wish the intentional harm of an animal that was otherwise doing absolutely nothing wrong. I don’t have pets. I don’t know if I will have pets. Pets to me are something else to clean up after and feed, and we are about to capacity over here with those needs.

    In other words….I don’t want to see anything bad happen to an animal, but I also don’t kiss animals on the mouth.

    Maybe this mindset sets me apart from the large majority of people weighing in on what happened at the Cincinnati Zoo over the weekend, but I am who I am.

    And I am not a perfect parent.

    Not even close.

    I am actually a parent who is not very good about supervising her children 100% of the time.

    There. I said it.

    Call me crazy, but when my girls play with their cousins or friends their age, I tend to let them play. I let them go outside to our 3/4 fenced in back yard, and I let them play on our swing set while I fold laundry or prep dinner. Of course, I check in on them. I watch out the window. I listen for screams. But I don’t watch them like a hawk 100% of the time.

    I know the dangers of children in public places. I also know that there is one of me and three of them, and yes, there are times when my back might be turned for 2 seconds when I am loading child A into the car and children B and C are waiting their turns. I do my best to keep them safe, of course I do. But if I told you that I was able to load and unload a cart full of groceries and three children into their car seats without ever once turning my eyes, head, or back away from them, I would be a liar.

    I have more stories. Some that belong to me and some that belong to my friends and family. And because this world is full of litigious spectators who think they are immune to mistakes and accidents, I am going to use the old elementary standby of “I know someone who” as I share these next moments of parenting failure.

    I know someone who left their sleeping kids in the (not hot) car in the garage or driveway so that the children could get in a good nap.

    I know someone who let their child walk him or herself all the way to the opposite side of the park to use the bathroom by him or herself.

    I know someone who momentarily lost his or her child in a department store and had to be paged to the front to be reunited.

    I know someone who thought his or her toddler was with the other parent in the backyard but was really being brought back up the front yard in the arms of a caring neighbor.

    I know someone whose kids went missing at the beach for several excruciating minutes.

    I know someone who didn’t know he or she was being followed into the pool by his or her child and that child suddenly could no longer touch the bottom and went under.

    I know someone who allowed his or her child, with a large group of other children, to run up ahead of the adults they were with at the zoo.

    I honestly could go on and on. I have seen and done so many things that would be considered incompetent or risky that I lose count.

    Am I proud of it? No.

    Am I human? Hell yes, I am.

    We lock our doors at night. We have smoke detectors and carbon monoxide alarms. They are buckled in appropriate car seats. I make them eat vegetables. They go to well-checks and get immunizations. They wear helmets when they ride their bikes or scooters. They wear life jackets on boats.

    We play by the rules. We respect laws. We do our freaking best to make sure that our kids are safe, healthy, protected, and unharmed.

    But we. are. human.

    We turn our backs when we shouldn’t. We get distracted by conversations or phone calls or thinking about what happened at work that day. We look away.

    And when our most human moments don’t result in an incident that becomes a national media frenzy, we are damn lucky.

    In any one of those stories I shared above, I can see it as a headline of a newspaper. I can hear it as the lead in on the evening news.

    When something scary happens, I use it as a learning experience. I remember how we got into that situation, and I do everything I can to make sure it never happens again. I hug my kids tighter, and I thank God that they were kept safe from harm.

    And I thank God for His grace and forgiveness as I navigate these treacherous waters called parenthood.

    My point in sharing all this is that I am in no position to weigh in on these parents who “allowed” their child to crawl into the gorilla exhibit at the Cincinnati Zoo which lead to the subsequent death of Harambe, the beautiful 17 year old endangered gorilla and the traumatization of the 4 year old child.

    Maybe they told the kid, “Hey, I have an idea! How about you break into this exhibit and go play with that big guy down there. He looks cuddly!”

    Maybe they told the kid, “No. You may not climb that gate. No. You may not get in that bush. No. You may not touch that fence.”

    Maybe, just as the dad was telling the mom, “Hey, we gotta move. This kid is getting really antsy over here,” the child somehow found his way into the enclosure and into harm’s way.

    All of these are maybes because I wasn’t there. And even if I was there, I still wouldn’t be qualified to say what really happened. Not my kid. Not my parenting. Not my place.

    What I can say is that we have a membership to the Indianapolis Zoo. We go several times a year. Many times, I go alone with my three girls, or I meet a friend or family member with their small children. We usually look like a band of gypsies, just roaming around singing and looking for food. I know that it is very difficult to keep an eye on all of them, but we do our best. We take head counts. We run the zone defense. We zig when they zig and we zag when they zag.

    But we are no better than the parents of this child who got into that enclosure. We are no better.

    I have seen moms sit and drink Starbucks and chat while their kids stick their fingers in the monkey cage.

    I have seen dads on their phones checking sports scores while their kids smack the glass and agitate the tigers.

    I am no better than those people, either.

    And neither are you.

    In my opinion, what happened at the Cincinnati Zoo was a tragic accident.

    But these days, accidents no longer exist. Everyone is looking for someone to blame. Blame makes us feel better.

    It’s not good enough to assume that we will learn from our mistakes. We have to humiliate people. We have to make sure the world knows that those people are stupid idiots and we are all better because we have never and would never do something like that.

    (and don’t think for a second I am saying that there’s no use for a legal or justice system– I won’t engage in dialogue about that)

    So, I am here to say that I feel sorry for Harambe the gorilla. I feel sorry that his life was ended due to circumstances beyond his control. I also feel sorry that he was in the zoo to begin with, but that’s a different issue.

    I feel sorry for Harambe’s caretakers. I can’t imagine how hard it has been on them.

    I feel sorry for the parents. They were caught with their pants down and what might have been a near-miss for other parents has become a horrible nightmare for them. I would guess they are embarrassed. I imagine they are ashamed. They might be wondering who their real friends are and if their family will still claim them. I am sure they are relieved their child is alive, and I can bet since they were most likely admiring that gorilla that they feel really bad that he had to die.

    I feel sorry for the child. He is young. He was scared and probably still is. The world has seen the video of him screaming in terror. I am sure he has physical and emotional injuries that will take quite some time (and therapy) to heal.

    But mostly, I feel sorry that he has to grow up in this world where our worst moments, our mistakes, our accidents are publicized, shared, discussed, and memed for the amusement of the worst kind of Monday morning quarterbacks.

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  • the one about that someone

    January 6, 2016 /

    Wow.

    Where have I been the past two months?

    How have I gone two months without returning to this little space to write, document, and download my thoughts and feelings on motherhood and womanhood and other various ‘hoods?

    It’s like the movie The Hangover. Something happened. I don’t remember what, or how, or who. All I know is that I am now awake, and I’ve lost a tooth. Ok, I lied about the last part. I have all my teeth, but my Kindergartner is working on her first loose tooth, and I kind of can’t deal with how grown up that means she is.

    I have actually tried to write a few different times. I have tried to write about the holidays and the magic and the stress of it all. I have tried to write about sentimental feelings and even feelings of sadness and unworthiness. I have posts saved as drafts in hopes that I would either return to finish them or gain the courage to post them. In reality, they sit, unfinished and unspoken. A silent record of the past several weeks of my life.

    The holidays. They happened.

    And now here I am!

    Call it a goal or resolution or whatever you like, but I am most certainly wanting to get back to writing more regularly. It feels so good to unload my brain and it also feels so good when I know that someone else can relate to what I just verbally vomitted all over the inter web.

    While I don’t have much of a written record of the last couple weeks of 2015, I can tell you that I actually spent a little of that time reading books. Crazy, right? In the day of Kindles and Nooks and people spending their time doing anything but reading, I actually was able to carve out some time to read a couple of wonderfully inspiring and influential books.

    It sounds silly, but these books have actually empowered me as I begin the new year. There’s something about reading someone else’s thoughts as words and feeling validated because you have those thoughts, too. Suddenly, you’re not alone. You’re not crazy. Well, maybe you are still crazy, but at least you know someone else is your same kind of crazy.

    I’d like to think that’s why you’re reading this. You’re searching for someone to match your crazy.

    I’m sure I’m your girl.

    These two books, For the Love: Fighting for Grace in a World of Impossible Standards by Jen Hatmaker and The Fringe Hours: Making Time for You by Jessica N. Turner filled my heart with wonderful, affirming words and advice that will carry me through this next year — a year I hope is positive, happy, and rewarding.

    On New Year’s Eve, I was talking to Luke about 2015. We were going through the highs and lows of the year…our favorite memories…our worst moments. He had so many highlights to claim and be proud of, and I struggled to come up with one. This is sad for a few reasons. For one, it’s sad because “nothing” super amazing happened in those 365 days, but mostly it’s sad because I didn’t “view” the past year’s highlights as what they were — highlights. I had a hard time remembering any of the joy I had experienced. I saw 2015 as the year I didn’t run the half marathon. It was the year the girls painted Disney World in puke.

    2015 was also a year of extreme emotional stress for me. I took on too many commitments. I became a chronic and habitual yes girl. Being afraid of what people would think or say about me if I said no to a request became a monster I could not get escape from. By the time my day was finished with making everyone else happy, I would be frazzled, beaten down, and borderline unbearable to be around.

    In my last post, I wrote about the half marathon I stopped training for. This was a pretty big turning point for me, because the rest of 2015 basically turned into a blur of stress and anxiety. One yes after another, and eventually I found myself unable to sleep through the night (which had nothing to do with the fact that my 3 year old still doesn’t sleep through the night most of the time). I would wake up in a panic, making to-do lists on my phone at 3 a.m. or sometimes just waking up for good at that hour so that I could have some more time in my day.

    I stopped eating. Ha. Not really. I stopped eating real food. With no time for breakfast, I would grab Starbucks daily. Most of the days, lunch was fast food of some sort or nothing at all. I lived off of Diet Coke, so much so that Luke had to bribe me with an overnight getaway just to give it up for one month. I always managed to come up with some semblance of a balanced meal for dinner…because, of course, I actually cared about what my family was eating.

    Between the lack of sleep and poor food choices, I noticed my hair was dull and thinning in spots. I was sick more in those few months than I had been in a year. I weighed the same as the day I delivered Shiloh.

    So why am I oversharing all of this with you?

    Because somewhere, someone needs to read this.

    Somewhere, someone needs to know that all those things you’re yessing to are eventually going to suck the life out of you. With no time to exercise…no time to eat real, nourishing food…no time to read empowering books…no time to have meaningful conversation with friends…no time to soak up the little moments with your children…no time to simply be still and know…you will eventually run out of steam and make yourself sick, crazy, or downright miserable.

    Are you that someone? Don’t worry if you are…because I’m that someone, too. I’m still that someone, because it takes time to build confidence and form new habits. I am only one week into this epiphany of sorts, and it takes an effort each day to change my old ways. I am a People-Pleaser by nature, so I know that I will never be able to fully let go of my fear that if I tell a person “No” or “I can’t” that they will shun me forever.

    It’s a work in progress.

    I’m a work in progress.

    If you’re that someone, I invite you to try these steps to get you headed in the right direction. For the first time in several months, I have hope that I can overcome these obstacles and truly have not only a wonderful and memorable year, but a fulfilling and happy life.

    1. Read the two books I mentioned earlier. They are quick reads. Make the time to do it. Use the time you spend on Facebook and Pinterest to enjoy the words of these women. You will come away feeling inspired, empowered, and motivated. You’ll laugh a lot, too.

    2. Pick a mantra, and put it on a bracelet. I believe in mantras. When I was pregnant with Shiloh and on bed rest for 12 weeks, I chose “I can do hard things,” inspired by Glennon at Momastery. This phrase helped me to focus and get through a tough part of my life. I stamped the words on a leather bracelet and wore it even through childbirth.

    For this phase of my life, I chose three mantras.

    Be still. Choose joy. All I need is within me.

    I found the inspiration for these mantras at Mantra Band. I love the color choices and daintiness of the bracelets, and there are zillions of motivational words and mantras to choose from. I wear my mantras daily, and they are a great reminder for me when I struggle.

    3. Pull a Nike and Just Do It. Whatever it is that you’re wanting to do– read more, exercise, meet with friends, go to bed earlier…whatever you have been longing for and wishing to make time for…just do it. Write it into your calendar, arrange appropriate babysitting if necessary, and get it done. The first step is always the hardest, but after you do just one small thing for yourself, you start to think about other ways to be creative and efficient with your day to allow you to spend even more time doing what you love.

    4. Be like Elsa and Let It Go. Let go of the guilt and feelings of being selfish. Mom guilt is a crazy, huge, real thing. We feel guilty for working. We feel guilty for going to dinner with friends. We feel guilty for calling in pizza. We feel guilty for spending money on ourselves. We feel guilty for hiring a babysitter so we can be alone or go on a date with our husbands. We feel guilty for not making the baby food from scratch. We feel guilty for every. damn. thing. Or at least I do.

    It’s time to let all of that go. No one else is keeping score except you (and if someone else is, that person’s a real asshole).

    I am a better, happier, more pleasant person to be around when I am taking care of myself. I am more calm. I am more patient. I am absolutely a better mother and wife.

    I wish you a year life of letting go and doing it.
    Well that got dirty real fast, huh?

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  • the one about when it isn’t all rainbow glitter and fairy farts

    September 23, 2015 /

    I have been struggling with a few posts for a while, and the reason for the hesitation is because, quite honestly, they haven’t been written in 100% truth. And truth is what I have promised and truth is what I shall deliver.

    It’s tough to admit when you’re in a rut. Or when things don’t go as planned. Or when you’re disappointed. I actually have a really, really hard time admitting disappointment when I do things like choose a restaurant that ended up being not that great, or pick a movie that was a giant waste of time. I guess I am just prideful in that way. I also can’t stand it when others aren’t having fun at an event I brought them to. For whatever reason, I feel a responsibility for their happiness and enjoyment– whether that’s right or not.

    So, a few months ago, my husband and I were so excited to plan a surprise Disney trip for our girls. We wanted to completely catch them off-guard, whisk them away to the airport, and make magical memories to last for years and years. We had such a wonderful time on our first trip to Disney World, and we couldn’t wait to go back.

    We were able to tie the trip into another medical conference for Luke, which greatly offset the cost of accommodations. We purchased the plane tickets, and I began preparing for the trip (interpretation – buying a gaggle of Disney shit prior to even setting foot on the premises).

    I checked the Disney dining website multiple times a day (…an hour), waiting for a table to become available for a princess dining experience. I had such fun picturing how my girls would react to meeting each character and the quality family time we would enjoy.

    The night before, it could have easily been Christmas Eve in my mind. We put the girls to bed, and we were damn giddy at the idea of them having no clue what awaited them the next day. I packed all of our bags without them knowing a thing, and we loaded everything in the van the night before. The plan was for Luke to pick Noelle up midday from school, and we would head to the airport at that point.

    Of course we wanted to video the girls as we told them where they were going. We imagined quite a grand response. Do you remember that commercial that aired at Christmas several years ago of the parents telling the kids they were going to Disney World as a Christmas gift, and the children then began crying hysterically out of pure joy? That’s what we were aiming for.

    Well, what we got was the look of a disappointed Kindergartner when we told her she wouldn’t be going back to school that day. Pouty face and all, she was quite miffed that she would not be seeing her friends that afternoon.

    Great. There goes our chances of making the next Disney commercial. 

    Needless to say, that wasn’t the reaction I was going for. My husband likes to tell me, “Manage your expectations.” This was pretty sound advice, because our trip only continued to become the antithesis of the picturesque Disney moments every family dreams of.

    We stayed at the Grand Floridian Resort again (thanks to the medical conference), and if it weren’t for the airline’s carry-on regulations, I would pick that whole place up and take it back with me. I love it. The staff is helpful and friendly. The dining options are yummy. The lobby smells would I would imagine Heaven to smell like. The rooms are luxurious and beautiful.

    Well, imagine my chagrin when I went out for a little walk around the resort on the first night and received a text from Luke that included a picture of my dear Charlotte’s vomit ALL over one of the beautiful beds?

    So, what did I do? I stopped at the market inside the resort and bought a Diet Coke and chocolate frosted donuts because I’m healthy like that.

    I then proceeded to eat nearly half the bag on a chaise lounge in the lobby. Slowly. Very slowly.

    I am still on vacation, dammit!

    I was hoping that by the time I made my way back to our room, the Puke Fairy would have cleaned up all the vomit soaked sheets and all would be well.

    Close enough. I returned to find Charlotte asleep peacefully and the offensive linens piled up in the corner with housekeeping on their way.

    We chalked it up to eating too much sugar and really thought that was the end of it. A very nice lady came to our room at 11 p.m. to change our sheets and make everything good as new. I settled into bed and thought to myself, “This is the most comfortable mattress ever.”

    And then Charlotte threw up again.

    And again.

    And kids really just don’t understand the concept of getting to the bathroom before the vomit comes up.

    I had just started to cry as I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing the ornate victorian carpet of our hotel room, when little Shiloh started to gag in her sleep. Luke quickly grabbed her and carried her to the bathroom, leaving a trail of 10 month old baby puke behind him.

    More tears.

    My girls were sick and miserable. Our clean and beautiful room now had an intolerable smell. We used every towel and linen in the entire room to clean up the mess, including the bathrobes in the closet.

    I lost count, but I believe each of the little girls got sick 3 times before it was all over. Noelle slept soundly through the ordeal, and I was too afraid to sleep for fear Shiloh would choke in the middle of the night.

    Night one was not a success. Memories were certainly made, however.

    The next day was a planned hotel pool day. We just wanted to hang around and enjoy the resort’s amenities, and I was thankful we hadn’t planned any character meals or park visits. The little girls seemed to be better by the morning, and I was hopeful we could still enjoy our trip.

    We enjoyed a fun day in the sun, had a delicious dinner at the Grand Floridian Cafe, took a boat ride around the lagoon, and then settled in for an early night, given the previous night’s events. The next day, the girls and I anxiously awaited the end of Luke’s meetings so we could get to Epcot for the princess lunch reservation at Akershus that I worked so freaking hard to get.

    The girls looked dreamy in their princess outfits, and I snapped these pictures. You would never have been able to tell that Charlotte was throwing up the night before or….

    …that Noelle would be next.

    Yes, as we were dining with the princesses, she started to say her stomach hurt. I took her to the bathroom a couple of times and generally tried to downplay it. Surely, she could not be getting sick. She was just nervous or had eaten a bad Swedish meatball. She was fine.

    But, as I was waiting in line to meet Aladdin and Princess Jasmine with Charlotte, Noelle tossed her cookies in the middle of “Morocco.” There went $24.99 worth of corn and mashed potatoes. Poor Luke was left to deal with the mess because Charlotte was not about to not meet Jasmine. I watched as kind strangers offered Luke a water bottle to rinse Noelle’s flip flops.

    Ah, yes. This truly is the happiest place on Earth!

    So, what are you to do when you have a sick child at Epcot? You find some really nice ornamental bushes and let her continue to get sick in those because we are. not. leaving.

    Again, after about 3 go-arounds, she felt better, and we somehow were able to enjoy a few attractions at Epcot (before the torrential downpour).

    We all left with a renewed sense of excitement because we knew we still had the Magic Kingdom to enjoy the next day. We hopped on the monorail and arrived back at the resort, but not before Noelle felt the urge to throw up one more time en route. Have you ever wondered what the record is for quickest reaction time to a vomiting child? Shopping bag turned sick sack in 1.7 seconds.

    And that record is all mine, Baby.

    Somehow, we managed to get everyone back to our room without another incident. We got the girls put to bed, and I anxiously awaited the next morning, which involved getting the girls up and ready to have breakfast at Be Our Guest (Beast’s Castle) at 8:00 a.m. in the Magic Kingdom. Luke and I both LOVED the Magic Kingdom the first time we visited, and we couldn’t wait to have a wonderful time together as a family of 5.

    I somehow managed to get all 3 of my girls on the monorail and through the park to the restaurant on time. Alone. We enjoyed our breakfast of pastries and eggs. I asked each of them every 5 minutes, “Do you feel OK?” “Are you going to be sick?” “Does your tummy hurt?” Thankfully, they were feeling good.

    We somehow managed to luck into hopping in line to meet Anna and Elsa just as the exhibit was opening, so we waited a grand 5 minutes to meet the Frozen girls. This was pure, dumb luck, as the wait time is generally at least 90 minutes.

    Elsa was beautiful. I admit, I was even a little star struck by her as well.

    I was feeling good about life and my Disney conquests at this point. We killed a little time before Luke was able to join us at the Magic Kingdom after his final morning of meetings.

    Noelle thought she’d like to try Splash Mountain.

    You can see how that went.

    And then, Luke’s time became a little less magical by the minute.

    Yes, my dear, loving husband, who was so excited for the Magic Kingdom, started to feel queasy and sick. I took the older girls on the Dumbo ride and watched from the air as his face turned a little more white each time we came back around. I knew there was no way he could be enjoying himself.

    The first time we took the girls to Disney World, our absolute favorite thing was the midday parade. It is so beautifully done and captures the true essence of Disney. This time, we arrived early to get good seats along the street. Unfortunately, just as the parade was beginning, Luke found himself on an emergency bathroom run and missed the entire thing.

    At that point, we decided it was best that he take Shiloh back to the resort and try to get some rest. I was left at the Magic Kingdom with Noelle and Charlotte. The plan was for Luke to try to meet us back that evening for fireworks so that we could at least enjoy them together as a family.

    With tears in my eyes, I told myself that I needed to be the mama my girls deserved, and we went to cash in our Fast Passes for some of our favorite rides. We even endured an hour long wait for Peter Pan’s Flight because Noelle was desperate to ride it.

    We also had ice cream. Ice cream makes everything better.

    Thankfully, Luke was able to meet up with us for our final character meet & greets with Tinker Bell and Mickey Mouse. We also were able to watch the fireworks at the castle together. I was so thankful we could enjoy these moments as a family.

    I can’t lie. A part of me died when I saw so many families enjoying their time, getting pictures in front of the castle, and experiencing the togetherness that I longed for. It is so difficult to accept when things do not go as planned or live up to the expectation you have in your mind.

    But I suppose that’s part of life. It’s part of growing up.

    Life isn’t always rainbow glitter and fairy farts.

    It isn’t always Disney commercials and castles.

    When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.

    And when life hands you a sick family at Disney World, you hand them a sick sack and keep on moving.

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