The Disneyland Monster

My family is going to Disneyland this week, last trip before my sister leaves on her mission (to Anaheim, ironically enough). It is impossible for me to tag along. Not only does my doctor advise against it, I just don't have the energy to take my kids. Even with a wheelchair and extra adult hands to help. I know this. But I still can't seem to come to a mature place about it. I feel like the girl in eighth grade who didn't get invited to the cool party, and I'm feeling sad and pouty and completely immature about it.
I was explaining this to my husband, he responded (somewhat paraphrasing):
"You know, it's not all your fault. Your mother raised you to have an inner Disneyland Monster. You grew up nurturing this monster, believing that Disneyland is the ultimate experience, and if you don't feed the monster, it gets grumpy. So of course you can't be mature about it!!!"
After having a hearty laugh about this, I realized its true. From as early as I can remember, Disneyland was the balm for just about anything. Getting shots at the docs, mom would hold our hand and say "Think about your favorite place at Disneyland." If we had a stressful semester, she'd say, "Well it's only five and a half more months till we go to Disneyland again." Boy heartaches? Lets just go to Disneyland. My mom's musical, art and entertainment choices? All Disney.
Compound that with dozens of perfect summer memories with my best friend of all time at the Park, a husband who also loves the happiest place on earth, and three tiny princesses who have small Disneyland Monsters I've unwittingly planted within them, and yeah. My life experience has taught me this equation:
Disneyland = The Most Fun You Can Have in This Life

So. I'll be doing battle with my inner monster this week. And I hope my family has a wonderful, wonderful time.

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