Our Amazing Adventure

We love Disney. And we especially love when they offer awesome military deals. When Aubrey was 18 months old, we took advantage of one such deal and drove from Maryland to Florida for 5 days at DisneyWorld. When we found out Disney was offering a similar promotion again, we wanted to make it happen. Then when I found screamin-killer-deal airfare on Southwest, we couldn't pass it up.

To avoid the myriad of questions and countdown tactics, and to make it more fun, we decided to surprise the kids. I love the Amazing Race, and Aubrey has watched it with me a few times, so I knew she would love it too.

On the morning of our departure, their first instruction was on the front of the fridge. I've never seen them get dressed so quickly.


Clue #1 was on the windshield of the van, but the kids didn't spot it until we started to pull out of the garage.


I sneakily gave clue #2 to the flight attendant and told her which seat Aubrey was in (diagonally behind us). She was shocked that someone else was in our adventure. It was so fun to watch her looking at the Southwest napkin (also their route map) and try to guess where we might be going.


Gavin was super clever and put clue #3 in the line-up markers for our next flight. The kids were busy looking out the windows at the planes, then turned around to see their clue right in front of them.


By this time, Aubrey had kind of figured it out (hard not to with all the Disney promos and ads as soon as you hit California). She was a good sport though and didn't tell Lincoln.

The fourth and final clue was handed to them in our rental car. Under the flap was a Mickey Mouse sticker. It was so fun to surprise the kids, and so great to pack without their help and not answer questions all week about when we were going to go. We will definitely do many more 'Amazing Adventures.'

(I took pictures of the kids and their clues as we traveled, but that poor camera was accidentally left in the airport bathroom and never turned in to Lost and Found. Boo hoo.)

Mother/Son Roller Skating

Our only pic from the night--taken with my phone. I had my camera, just not the memory card--oops. 

Not to be outdone by the outstanding Daddy/Daughter dance that our ROA does annually, they added a Mother/Son event this year. Aubrey has had the privilege and honor of a special date with her dad for two years now (here and here), so it was finally Lincoln's turn. He was so excited, it was really cute how he kept asking me when we were going 'rower kating.' 

On Mother's Day eve, we boarded charted buses at our brand new community center and rode with about 100 other excited Moms and Sons to a roller skating rink in a nearby town. We laced up our skates and proceeded to do--oh, maybe a lap or two--before the first game started. Lincoln was a little shaky on his skates, but I did my best to help him out (read: holding him up). Our troubles began when we tried to skate over to the start of the game (I think it was 'Red Light/Green Light'). 

Everyone, and I mean everyone, was already lined up and facing our way. Linc and I were trying to get there so the game could begin. All of a sudden, I knew we were going down. 

Being the protective and loving mother that I am, I tried to shield Lincoln from the fall by picking him up. So, not only did all of my body weight fall on my butt, but his as well. And since I was holding him, there was nothing to break my fall but my backside. I think this might have been when I bruised my tail bone. Ouch. 

Oh, and did I mention that everyone was lined up facing us as witnesses to this catastrophe? Yeah.

It's okay--just smile to mask the pain and keep going, right? Afterall, Lincoln wasn't hurt--just me. 

So we go to play the game. It isn't but a few 'green light' calls later, and I realize fearfully that we are about to crash down again. This time I tried to brace my fall with my hands and, unfortunately, let Lincoln handle himself. 

Not only did I seriously bruise my wrists*, but Lincoln was crying that he was hurt and didn't want to skate anymore. When I asked him where it hurt (afraid that he had broken a bone or something), he tearfully said, "Air-vee-where." No more skating for us.

At least there was still pizza and videogames. And memories. 

I sure love my boy.

(*I did actually take pictures of my bruised wrists afterwards [mostly for you, Heather], but I didn't upload them to the computer before our Disney trip, and then lost that camera in the SNA airport. If the person who took my camera from the bathroom ever stumbles upon this blog--yeah, I bet my kids look familiar; and at least now you know why there were those wretched pics of purple wrists. Could you at least send me my memory card?)