Navigating Parenting
Updated: Dec. 18, 2023
Originally Published: April 18, 2023
This book is a riot (with praise like, “Chloe Anderson must be stopped. My partner thinks she’s funnier than I am,” from a well-known comedian on the cover), irreverent, and an undeniably entertaining read. In the following excerpt, Chloe and her husband, Max, who has a flair for the dramatic, plan a family getaway to Disney World—needless to say, Chloe is not entirely thrilled.
Like many of us dealing with the chaos of parenting, Max is determined to do things differently. Growing up, he didn’t have much in the way of traditions or celebrations, so now they play a huge role in his adult life. Taco Tuesday! Family Hikes! Let’s Make a (Dessert) Deal! Our existence together often resembles a series of over-the-top celebrations reminiscent of Bar Mitzvahs, complete with omelet bars and fajita stations. You can’t deter him; it’s a futile effort.
Max is afflicted with a chronic case of emotional nostalgia, a relentless yearning to reclaim the childhood experiences he missed out on. It can be exhausting, but on days when I’m feeling empathetic, I get it. I roll my eyes while preparing pizza dough or ordering a piñata because I know what it’s like to feel a little flawed. So when Max announced, “Chloe, we’re going to Disney World,” I wanted to graciously turn him down and say there was no way I was making that trip. Instead, I forced a smile, nodded along, and then retreated to our bedroom, secretly thinking: good grief.
Say the word “Disney” in public, and you’ll get a spectrum of reactions. One person will light up, envisioning Mickey Mouse silhouettes in their eyes, complete with hearts and fireworks bursting from their heads. The other will launch into a tirade, insisting their daughter absolutely does not need a prince to find happiness, thank you very much. If you escalate the conversation to Disney World, you might witness someone having a meltdown or be subjected to someone reliving their experience on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride or how they almost lost their lunch on Dumbo.
It seems everyone has a Disney story, including Max. I discovered that his blended family made the trek in an old Chevy Impala wagon. Due to a lack of seating, Max was shoved into the trunk with his stepbrother and all the luggage. His most vivid memory was pleading with his stepdad to visit the Wet ‘N Wild Water Park, located just a mile before they reached Disney World. His request was promptly shot down. The most memorable moment for Max was hearing his stepfather mutter to his wife on the long drive home, “Well, we are never doing THAT again.”
My own Disney history is more of a revisionist tale, set in Tomorrowland, where no one in my family could handle a ride faster than the Hall of Presidents. I yearned for someone to accompany my nine-year-old self on Space Mountain, but all I received were three resounding no’s. My dad clutched his designer belt and suggested I ride solo because he’d probably puke. My brother echoed the sentiment, citing speed and barfing as reasons to sit out. My mother, sensing my indecision, insisted I hurry up and choose because she thought she heard thunder and also wasn’t feeling well. An imaginary line was drawn, separating me from them. They morphed into a band of lame superheroes—The Non-Avengers—actively avoiding any fun out of fear and queasiness. I surveyed their side of the line and thought: Fine, maybe I’ll ride alone. Maybe someone will abduct me. Maybe I’ll fall out and die, and then they’d finally understand. So, I went ahead and rode alone (thankfully, I didn’t get abducted or die). The rest is a blur.
A trip to Disney World, much like parenting, feels like a massive redo. Some revisit the park with their kids to recapture the magic, while others aim to patch up old wounds. Max and I approach our childhood fix-it missions in completely different ways. He organizes grand fiestas and memorable days, while I ensure no one rides solo. Yet, despite all the wrongs I wanted to amend, I still had zero interest in going. I resorted to my classic tactic: trying to back out.
“You know, I was thinking. Disney can be quite pricey,” I mentioned one night while loading the dishwasher. This usually makes Max pause.
“Well, you only live once,” he replied. “They’ll remember this forever.”
“Isn’t it hurricane season?” I countered.
“There won’t be a hurricane,” he assured me, completely engrossed in researching the best family-friendly pool in the Orlando area from the couch. “Do you mind if we don’t stay on campus?”
Campus? He was already using the lingo. I was in trouble.
In conclusion, embarking on a Disney trip is a chance to rewrite the past, whether it’s about creating new memories or fixing old ones. Just like parenting, it’s a rollercoaster of emotions, and sometimes all we can do is hang on for the ride.
Keyphrase: Disney World family trip
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