Coming out of The Playground Incident, I was more determined than ever to have the perfect Disneyland vacation. I had already reserved and paid for the key elements: airfare, transportation, hotel, tickets. I had done my research on the area, and knew what times the parks were open and when the fireworks were. I knew where to find a stroller, which rides Little One was tall enough for, and which rides had those fancy Fast Passes.
I also really wanted to prove to myself that I could do this - that I could take Little One on a trip, all by myself, and we could have the time of our lives.
And that, my friends, is exactly what happened. We had what will go down in Disney history as one of the all-time best mother-and-daughter vacations.
First of all, our hotel - the Grand Californian Hotel - somehow got the notion to upgrade us to the concierge level. This meant a bigger room, and free access to their concierge lounge the first night. (This was, honestly, their mistake - I had not paid for, nor requested, the concierge amenities. And to their credit, they actually felt bad enough for their mistake, that they gave us full access the first night. Then they told me that I could keep those amenities, for an extra $150 a day. Given that I was only paying $200 a day for the hotel, I said thanks, but no thanks. But we still got the larger room!)
The first morning we were there, we walked in early during the special hotels-only hour. And who was waiting there for us, with no line? Mickey Mouse. It was barely 8am, and we were getting our picture taken with Mickey Mouse. We were both thrilled. It was like being in one of those Disney commercials.
Then, I whipped out my brand-new camera, only to discover that it didn't come with a strap. (Who the heck sells a camera with a strap holder but no strap? Canon, that's who. Sillies.) I walked down Main Street to the camera store on the corner, and asked the shop keeper if he had one to sell me. "I don't have one to sell," he said, opening a drawer next to the cash register. "But I have one I can give you." I stammered a thank-you, and we were off.
It was moments like this where I felt the lack of a "partner" most keenly. I had no one to turn to and say, "Look at that! Did you see what just happened? We just met Mickey Mouse and then I got a free camera strap and it's barely 8:30 in the morning! This is awesome!" Sure, Little One and I would share these experiences. But that wasn't what I was missing. So - I called my Mom and told her. And that was good, in the moment. I also imagined telling D about this, and rubbing it in. I didn't. But I imagined it, and that was good too. Then I would try and remind myself how lucky I was, and not sharing it with a partner didn't mean that it wasn't real and wonderful anyway. (This is a theme I've come back to often since this trip.)
Each day, we had breakfast with the characters. The best one, by far, was the Princess breakfast at Ariel's Grotto. Little One, decked out in her finest Belle nightgown (she got to choose the dress, so that's what she wore!), gasped in delight as each princess's name was announced. The pictures from that brunch are priceless, each one sweeter than the last. My camera - with its handy, free strap! - captured the joy and bewilderment that Little One shared with everyone around her.
My Little One was fearless. Haunted Mansion? Sure, three times. Thunder Mountain? Yes, please. Two times. Thunder Mountain? Three times, once at night. She was boundless with energy and enthusiasm, which we mirrored back and forth to each other throughout the trip. Mommy was never cross, and Little One was never grumpy. In that, it was the perfect trip, and every little fortune accumulated along the way felt that much more like validation of the path I'd been taking all along.
For five bright, shining, all-too-brief days, I had Little One all to myself, and we were in one of my favorite places. I was finally giving her the experience I'd dreamed of since I was little: taking my own family to Disney. Okay, so it hadn't exactly turned out the way I'd thought it would. But it was still pretty damn terrific. And while this was not my first trip to Disney with Little One, the first one had been pretty damn tragic in its timing, what with the whole bellydancer-coming-over-when-we-were-in-Florida thing that I found out about later. (That kind of tarnished the memories of the trip, as you can probably imagine.)
When I came back from Anaheim, however, it was nearly a year to the day after I'd had The Talk with D. You remember, the one where I'd confronted him about Jay Daniels? Yeah, that talk.
I couldn't think of a more perfect testament to where that talk had brought the three of us: Little One and I, exhausted, bonded, and happy to have gone to Disneyland together. And D, not there. Just - not there. This trip was the biggest game-changer I could have asked for. It marked a corner turned: I was no longer the Penelope I'd been, and I had no idea who the Penelope was I would eventually be. But I kinda liked the Penelope I'd become so far, and that was plenty.
Emboldened by my success, I did something else that would mark a corner: I enrolled in eHarmony, and started to stretch myself outside of my comfort zone - in all directions.
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