Otherwise known as How To Survive Disneyworld With Minimal Meltdowns.
I'm a mom. My two kids are 6, and 7. They are.....well, lets just say they are REAL hyperactive (diagnosed) and have some other special needs. So you'd never think we could take two kids like this to the Disneyworld, spend the entire day at parks (yep, we parkhop) and walk between 8-12 miles a day, and spend 7+ hours a day at the park 3 out of 4 days, right?
Well we did. The Columbia hiking boots and the Unofficial Guide to Walt Disney World helped, but Disney = Magic. And my magic is a Big, Ugly, Pink, Leopard Print.......backpack. Enjoy my thoughts, and if you were one of the parents who looked at me with open hatred as I cruised past you with my fastpass and children wearing sensible shoes, while your Bibbity-Bobbity-Boo'd princess sobbed with exhaustion and an advanced case of glittery mascara in her eye.....well, I'm sorry.
OK, I'm not sorry. I hope you've learned from your experience and won't allow anyone to apply your primary school age child's makeup with a trowel next year, but I just can't summon up any sympathy.
Anyone, on to MY guilty little secrets. Bananas and raisins and....water!
http://www.ebay.com/itm/HANNA-ANDERSSON-....271041689438%26
I'm NOT selling mine. This is just what mine looks like.
Can you imagine someone like me hauling THIS around Disneyworld? Your first question might be "are you on something illicit? why would you carry something like that?" Well, here is WHY, and here is detailed instructions as to HOW.
Well, we got it free. And it was Hanna Anderson (HA), which basically = indestructible.
I was shocked when I discovered this backpack, which was kindly gifted to me - was HA. They used to be the epitome of understated swedish cool. They were located in Portland, OR for forever - they used all natural fibers, etc.
So what happened? Well, during hard times in the 90's, the Swedes checked their portfolio, decided it was time to get out. The pragmatic woman they had hired as their chief became president, and......moved the company to Kentucky. They still have a lot of their staples and all cotton stuff. And I can attest that they are still indestructible. But, like 90% of anything that is moved to the the "Kentucky-like area" it started to subtly adapt. Leopard prints, shiny butterflys, neon flowers, etc started to appear. Protective coloration, you might say.
But they still wear like iron. Or like steel magnolias you might say. So I hauled this ugly backpack around, day in and day out, for water, and books, and baby wipes. After enduring a year, it was time for Disney. And, like everything destined to go to the Big Mouse - it became.....magical. And then endured for another year and worked it's same magic.
If you've ever been to the parks, you've seen them.
The tarted up princesses, wilting inside their polyester cocoons. The face painted toddler boys, wailing and screaming and dissolving in a puddle of unhappy urine. Take a kid and expose them to sun, and WAY too much fun, and water only at mealtimes, and snacks? What snack? Oh, that $9 funnelcake they inhaled, then jumped around from sugar shock, then vomited onto the Main Street pavement.
But not mine. Because I had the magical backpack. Stocked with a gallon ziploc bag of baby wipes (about half of a standard "box" of wipes) and another smaller quart ziploc bag of a couple dozen more wipes in the front pocket.
Spare socks? Yep. Spare undies? Yep. Spare daisy duke knit cotton shorts (the ONLY time I'd put my kids in them)? Yep. 4 boxes of raisins, 4 - 6 bananas? Yep. (Bananas go on top, raisins are stashed in one of the side mesh pockets). Sunglasses for everyone except big daddy (he's cool enough to manage his own)? Yep - in the other side mesh pocket. Separate leopard print "lunch box" to hold 3 water bottles? Yep.
So armed, we attack the parks. I go in the "bag lady" line to be searched (they never bat an eye at all the food I am smuggling into Disney - never) while big daddy and the kids go through the "no bags" line. After that, the first year we checked through with our passes and picked up rental strollers. This year, no strollers.
One hour in (ding!) everyone stops and drinks. Need to pee? No? 20 minutes later everyone stops and drinks. Need to pee? No? After 90 minutes everybody gets it and chugs when cued. We have to do this the first day, then it's a no-brainer. Drink every hour, and drink a LOT.
2 hours in - find a slow ride (small world, living with the land) and force the kids to snork down bananas and raisins while being calmed into submission. Restroom, more water, then......
Lunch at the first place that opens at 11am. Feed them until stuffed. Fastpass whatever is an hour wait, then watch shows or talk to staff members or find hidden mickeys (hint: look up). Once it's noon, trot with your fastpass past fuming, tantruming families who failed to plan and enjoy your ride.
Then leave the park before they kill you. Noon is the best time to parkhop, and besides everybody hates you for planning ahead, so leave now.
Enter next park while everyone else is in an hour long wait for lunch. They'll assume you slept in, unless they saw you pull this trick yesterday, in which case they'll ask you for tips. (for the record, I've only been asked how I do this a half a dozen times.) Ride all the rides, then nab fastpasses when people exit lunch and get in line. Watch shows and force kids to snack and drink water while all the polyester princesses start crying and limping (or being dragged) out of the park. Find the baby center and explain that you need clean water for your child's sippy cup. Promise your child a small toy from the vendor if they make poopy in the baby center's miraculously quiet and small potty. Clean up child, child's hiney, and baby center's potty. Thank baby center's staff profusely and comment on how cute everything is. Nab another fastpass when the hour is up.
Buy small toy. (They don't care by this point - you could give them a bottle cap and they would be happy. Anything shiny with lights is the equivalent of winning the lottery.) Refuse to give it to child until they drain their sippy cup. Let them play with it while YOU refill all water cups and rest and encourage tired spouse to rest. (this is important if you want to get lucky later.)
Keep resting. Show kids the fastpass for "something thrilling" and have them count down the time and wait for the last of the extremely tired kids to crash and burn. Look for hidden mickeys and tell silly stories.
It's fastpass time! Go on fun ride. Now go find all the slow rides everyone else thinks are pathetic. They have 5 minute wait times now, and when you are tired and have been walking for hours and are 5, 6, or 7, suddenly they are awesome.
Eat dinner (preferably in your hotel room, in peace and quiet). Brush everyone's teeth and park kids in front of tv in the bed. Take bets on how long it will be before they fall asleep. Laugh when kids fall asleep in less than 10 minutes. Sober up when you realize this is why your grandparents did all those farm chores.
Load coffeemaker, get mugs ready and preload cereal bowls for the following day, and clean out and repack magic ugly pink backpack with wipes, bananas, and raisins.
If spouse is in the mood (footrubs aid in this, as do sincere compliments) have a "magical" evening!
Repeat next day.
So that's why I lug that big ugly backpack around Disney. It's ugly, it's tacky, and my lower back is screaming in agony from repeated bumps from the metal (or hard plastic) water bottles, but man it's worth it.
