Disney World - The "Happiest" Place on Earth

We are counting down the days until we can leave this bitterly cold, snow covered landscape and head south to sunshine and easy living. We are going to Disney World on Friday.

The kids don't know we are going to Disney World. They know that we are going to Florida and they know that this is where Disney World is, but they are completely convinced that we are not going to Disney until Colin is 4 years old (he is 20 months old now).

We are just going to show up at Disney World and see how long it takes them to figure out where we are.

As much as I am relieved to be getting out of this miserable weather for a while, and as much as I am excited to see the kids' expressions and excitement when we hit Disney World, I have to admit, I am feeling a great deal of apprehension about this trip. I find myself dragging my heels about packing our bags. It's been taking me a long time to fall asleep at night (longer than usual which is usually a very long time). And, I wake myself up at night with the grinding of my teeth. All this apprehension is making me edgy, so I find myself having an extra glass of wine at night ...and then dragging my heavy body out of bed at 6:00 in the morning when the boys wake me up.

So, why am I so anxious? Disney World is said to be "the happiest place on Earth".

Well, if you have kids and have vacationed with them, you would not be asking that question.

Vacationing with children is no vacation! The plane ride alone is enough to send you to the looney bin...except that you just spent thousands of dollars on this "vacation" and don't want to waste money...or pay extra to stay in a padded cell.

Happiest place on earth...I have my doubts about that. I would venture to guess that it is one of the most stressful places on earth. Long lines; heavy heat; over-stimulated, crying, screaming, tantrummy children; exhausted, crying, screaming, cursing parents...I think the only people that escape this drama are the people who work there - and this is only because they are getting paid...but now that I think of it, a lot of these employees spend their days inside a big, fluffy costume...maybe they are secretly crying and screaming and cursing behind those masks.

So, every day Alex counts down how many days until we leave for vacation (we have a little chalkboard on which we are tracking the days). Today he changed the number to 2 days left. He didn't realize that the 2 days didn't include today (including today there are 3 days left). So he had a MAJOR meltdown as we were getting ready to leave the house for school. This is just a precursor to what lies ahead for the next 10 days.

So, if we make it back in one piece I will be sure to fill you in on our "vacation".

Closet Rebel

So, I've been looking at some different BLOGs. Wow, there are some really interesting people out there. Where are all these interesting people hiding?

As you know, I am a stay-at-home mom. I live in a suburban utopia full of June Cleavers and Martha Stewarts...and it can be soooooo boooooring!

Everybody looks similar, drives a minivan, and does and says acceptable things. Everybody's house is immaculately clean and their children are well groomed. Nobody yells at their children or lets them feast on crap or watch TV all day. And most of all, everyone seems completely happy and content...Except me.

It's true, I conform to all of the above...Most of the time. But really, I just want something interesting to happen. So, every once in a while, I like to throw a little something into the water - watch it ripple, see if I can make someone hesitate, or fumble, or even better turn red and gasp (to be honest, it doesn't take much).

I find myself "fessing up" to little things - like, for breakfast the boys had waffles with strawberries...and ice cream...and chocolate syrup; I have a couple glasses of wine at night...and 2 or 3 martinis on Wednesdays and a bottle on Fridays and a bottle on Saturdays; when the boys really drive me nutz, I put them in a safe place and sit outside for 10 minutes to clear my head...and smoke; I shave my arms...and other places too; I bought my husband a lap dance...and felt up a stripper...

I know - gasp!

But in my world, this is truly shocking behavior.

I guess I throw these things out there, hoping that somebody will say - "oh, I've done that too" - or better yet, "I do that regularly and I smoke pot and I work the corner for extra cash". I just want to see if anyone is willing to admit that they are not perfect parents and don't do everything by the book. I just want to know that I am not negligent, careless or crazy. I just want to find someone that has something to talk about other than the kids or the house or someone else's kids or someone else's house - someone who is still a person other than that parental person. I am looking for reality and substance (not that feeding kids sugar, drinking or smoking give one substance, but, at least I would know that they are real...and not afraid to be real).

Ok.

You got me.

I guess I'm afraid to be "real" too.

But I'm not sure if I'm more afraid of being "real" or being "perfect". When asked by my doctor why I continue to smoke cigarettes, I replied, "It's my rebellion against being the perfect mother". That's right, I am a Closet Rebel. I do everything just so - and I have been called "Martha" on more than a few occasions. But when noone is looking I do unspeakable things like smoke cigarettes, drink alcohol, and buy lap dances!

The thing is, I never wanted to be the stay-at-home mom, living this suburban utopia. I used to call it suburban hell. I used to think that stay-at-home moms were lazy, unmotivated, soap opera watching, pampered pooches. It scares me to hell that I might be that person.

But I don't watch soap operas...EVER! So I guess I'm ok then.

Now, I don't want you all to think I hate my life. Actually, I LOVE my Life! I have a very great life. I have to say, I think my life is so near perfect - only hitting Megabucks could improve it. It's just that it scares and completely disgusts me that this life is what I strive for daily.

So, forgive me, Pre-parental Eileen, for becoming June Cleaver - but I hope I am not what you thought I would be...I hope you think I am interesting...and I hope I make you proud of your life.

The Perfect Picture

She is what people would consider "Perfect".

She is beautiful - but not in an ordinary, girl-next-door way. She is exotic and original. Many artists and photographers have stopped her, commenting on the exceptional beauty of her sculptural physique. She is elegant, sophisticated and poised. Her long, lean lines and petite frame lend themselves easily to the art of ballet where her movements are precise and expressive.

Dance is one of her many passions. She is also passionate about art, music, photography, fashion and especially, her kitty, Tiara.

A natural brainiac, she graduated from Wellesley College with a double degree in English and Art History. Her super-smartness has led her to a super-successful career in pharmaceutical sales where she is consistently among the top sales people.

Aside from academia and career, she is always the life at a party. Guys and gals alike want to be in her company - and to be seen with her. She has a flirty personality that is charming and captivating and an impeccable sense of style that turns heads.

She is a delightful blend of intelligence and ditz, coolness and geekiness, gracefulness and klutziness. She's immaculately poised, yet prone to the most comical mishaps.

But these are just surface values. The true value in this rare painting is what lies beneath the surface. This woman is deeply sensitive and incredibly sweet. She is a trustworthy confident and insuppressible cheerleader. She is amazingly forgiving, enormously generous and accepting of differences, flaws and inadequacies. She is unpretentious despite all her perfections because she is her own worst critic - she believes herself to be very flawed and inadequate.

She is my sister.

Still there is more to this picture. Something a little bit mysterious. Mysterious because I would guess, (beyond a subtle, easily dismissed sensation) it goes mostly undetected. The mysteriousness about her is that she is often quite melancholy.

Why, you might ask, could this perfect person be prone to bouts of dysphoria. I think it is people that make her sad. I think most people don't give her the same confidence, encouragement, forgiveness and acceptance that she so naturally and generously doles out. I think this leaves her feeling lonely and un-understood. I think most people assume a person like her doesn't make mistakes, doesn't need a cheerleader and always has things go her way.

Next time you see Debbie Kim, be soft to her, be kind and gentle and forgiving. She is not a perfect picture. She is human - an amazing, beautiful human person.

I love you Debbie.

Your forever adoring little sister, Eileen

P.S. If you want to know more about Debbie, visit her BLOG at 360.yahoo.com/bostonangeleno

Through Thick-n-Thin, Sick-n-Sin

Nothing like a little illness to make you truly appreciate feeling well!

The last few days I have been practically swimming in vomit and diarrhea. It all started with Brandon puking and climbing silently into my bed in the middle of the night. I kept stirring in my sleep thinking I smelled something a little sour but too tired to fully wake up and find out if it was real or a dream. It was real. We found vomit in Brandon's bed the next morning. Luckily, it was a one time event. His illness crept in and out silently. The next evening Colin puked 4 times. But, I got lucky all 4 times. The first time he puked, he, unfortunately, puked red vomit (from cranberry sauce) in a huge, thick pile on my bedroom carpet (which is light beige). I say lucky because he was smart enough to bend over so as not to get any on himself (in other words I didn't have to give him a bath and/or wash thick, goopy puke out of his clothing). The second time he was sitting in an empty laundry basket. The laundry basket caught all of his vomit so I didn't have to clean the floor. Unfortunately, this time he was standing in it so a bath was definitely required. The third time we were sitting on the living room floor doing puzzles and he bent over and puked on the hard wood floor. Double lucky this time since he didn't get any on himself or me and it is easy enough to clean off the wood floor. The final time we were in the bathroom just about to take Mylanta for his upset tummy when he leaned over and puked on the bathroom floor. Easy clean up, a little on the toes of his feetie pajamas, but no bath needed. I would say I was lucky that time too!

While Colin was busy marking his turf, Dan, Alex and Brandon were at the Celtics game where Alex and Brandon were the "on the court kids". They returned early - Alex sitting in the backseat of the NEW minivan with a puddle of vomit in his lap and Dan bent over on the lawn hurling chunks. Dan puked 12 times that night. Alex puked 11 times. Alex was keeping close score over who was winning the puking game. I am not even kidding about this!!! Every time he threw up in the night he would ask how many times Daddy puked. In the morning when he found out Dad threw up 1x more than him, he managed to work up 1 more puke. Immediately after that he ate a bagel and hasn't puked since. As for me, I did not puked but I spent all of yesterday and the prior evening feeling seriously ill and sick to my stomach. I credit my ability to refrain from vomiting to 3 pregnancies during which I never threw up - I think I grew accustomed to feeling incredibly nauseous yet carrying on. Anyways, I slept through most of yesterday and feel great today.

The sun is shining and nobody has puked. It's a good day. The family that gets sick together, sticks together (literally)...Through Thick-n-Thin, Sick-n-Sin!

Knights of Reynard Lane

Early this week I cut my hand - pretty badly. I was replacing some tiles in the guest bathroom - trying to break a small tile in half, when the tile slipped and gauged my left hand. Blood came gushing out. Knowing my propensity for passing out and hyperventilating, I immediately averted my eyes, grabbed the nearest towel and called Dan at the club. Luckily he had already retrieved the kids so he jumped into the minivan and dashed home.

It felt like forever when the four of them finally rushed into the house. Worried - "Mommy, are you ok? Oooh, it must hurt. I hope you feel better soon." Plenty of gentle hugs, kisses and deep looks of concern followed.

It turned out that I dug in pretty deep, just cutting the tendon that works all your fingers. The doctor said if I went any deeper I would probably have had some serious problems. Anyways, 9 stitches and 4 days later, I am back to riding, playing the piano and wall papering the guest bath - a glutton for punishment.

So, I guess the thing is, I think I 'm a good mother. But, I do often question how well I am doing. Sometimes I wonder, in 20 years what will my boys say I did to "screw them up". I guess only time will tell. But, in this small incident I find comfort that I am doing ok. In that moment, the boys - usually very much self-absorbed, as children are and should be - stopped asking for stuff and bickering with each other. They were, for a little while, caring, gentle, reassuring little men - 3 knights in feetie pajama.

And then, of course, there is Dan. Always my knight in shining armor. Yes, he did what any husband would do. But, this is a reminder to me how much I need him. I tend to act like I don't really need anyone for anything - I can get things done on my own. I like to think that I am strong and independent. But, the truth is, Dan is my strength. He makes me feel calm and safe. He takes care of my needs in a quiet, gentle way. Most of the time all I need is to look in his face and I feel better. But every once in a while I need someone strong enough to carry me without grunting. I love you Dan.

Ok. I know. I'm such a sap - so melodramatic. But, these are the poetic moments in my simple, stay-at-home life.