Not even six months into our new relationship, my husband and I made a trip to Disneyland and bought annual passes in 2012. We were sure our love would last for at least 365 days worth of access (save black out dates) to Disney. Whether it’s because we’re both Southern California kids, or just nerds, Jacob and I LOVE Disneyland.
While we have never identified as fanatical “Disney Adults,” who bound outfits to look like characters, join moto-inspired social clubs, or attend subculture events like Dapper Day, we did once purchase this set of glassware on the way out of the park. And, I think that’s saying something, to be honest.
Oh, also I am an avid enamel pin collector.
And vintage Disney apparel hoarder.
Ok, I’m not helping my case against being a fanatic.
In over a decade of visiting Disneyland as carefree adults who often decided to end the workday with fireworks and churros, we’ve had many conversations about what it would be like to bring our children…or not bring them. I often joke about aspiring to have my future children be pissed as adults when they realized how much we ditched them with sitters to go to Disneyland without them.
Then I actually had a kid, and our hypothetical Disney days as parents transformed into concrete planning. We’ll take him when he’s three… no four. He needs to be potty trained. He should be able to hang without a nap. Maybe when Covid cases are lower. Should we splurge on a hotel and do two days? Do we recruit grandparents to help? It seems so hard to do Disney with kids ruining all the adult fun. We should definitely leave the baby at home and just take him for his first time to make it special. Still so hard!
During lockdown, I purchased mommy and me vintage Disneyland sweatshirts in anticipation of the big day that loomed in the future, with visions of my son running up to a woman in costume screaming “IT’S THE REAL MICKEY!” just as I did at three years old.
We started talking to our son about Disneyland a year ago, occasionally indulging our own pandemic mania by showing him YouTube videos of the Electric Light Parade and Nemo’s submarine ride. It wasn’t clear how much he understood, but in desperation over poopy diapers, I started dangling a trip to Disneyland as motivation to use the potty.
Narrator: it didn’t do a damn thing.
He eventually figured out potty training without the incentive, but we figured all the steady Pixar and Disney + diet we’d been feeding him was sure to pay off on his first trip––whenever that happened. We were confident it would blow his mind, and we couldn’t wait to plan it for real.
Best laid long-term plans.
Two weeks ago, the whole family was driving back home to LA from San Diego. It had been a while since Waze had taken us on the 5 freeway, and when we realized that we were coming up on Anaheim, Jacob and I debated waking up on son to show him Disneyland from the freeway.
Obviously, it would be futile to call out the top of a fake Swiss Alps mountain peak, half of a ferris wheel, and some spires from the building that houses Space Mountain––all things for which held deep meaning to us and no context whatsoever for him. Also, pointing literally anything out to a three year-old on a car ride is merely a gesture. THEY NEVER KNOW WHERE TO LOOK IN TIME.
But, the baby pooped, and we needed to pull over to change her diaper. “Why don’t we stop at Downtown Disney and do it there?” I suggested.
Jacob’s eyes lit up a little, “Okay!”
A solid fifteen minutes after pulling into the parking lot, changing a diaper, using the travel potty, putting on shoes, jackets and loading up a backpack, we headed into the Downtown Disney shopping center with one small stroller, a baby carrier, no extra diapers, and one extra bottle I happened to toss into the bag last minute. For the non-caregivers out there, this is not very prepared.
We walked through the Downtown Disney outdoor mall excitedly pointing out the characters he knew that adorned posters, walls, and stores from our son’s vantage point in the stroller. He… was less than amused. Huh, weird? Shouldn’t kids love this??
When we reached the end of the mall, we found ourselves looking ahead at a familiar sight: the entrance to Disneyland. The ticket booths looked empty. Years of being Disneyland annual pass holders told us that it meant the park was dead, which made sense since a storm had just cleared.
As if on autopilot, Jacob and I walked the path we had so many times before, continuing towards the ticketing booths very seriously contemplating buying annual passes again. By the time we reached the window, we had convinced ourselves it was an investment we should most definitely make.
Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), they weren’t selling annual passes at the moment. But, they did convince us to buy a three-day pass, after we lied about our son being under three (Thank you small end of the growth curve!).
We could use one of the days that day, and the other two at another date in the future, when we could have the time to plan it just as we’d always envisioned, or at least brought diapers.
High on a sense of spontaneity we hadn’t felt in literal years, we excitedly raced into what would be our very first family trip to Disneyland that lasted a mere three and a half hours.
Naturally, even with an empty park, we didn’t go on many rides. But, our son got to ride the Disneyland train––the very one from the YouTube video he’d watched dozens of times––and I took him on Autopia where he got to “steer” the car. Oh, and I paid $7 for a soft pretzel and it was perfect.
We made in back to the car well past the baby’s nap time, but no one cared. We had three hours of completely unplanned fun––something that had felt so inaccessible for so long. Between what seems like hundreds of Covid tests, exhausting debates around exposure, working around baby schedules, regressions, and blah, blah, blah, there has been little room for spontaneity, pure joy and, most importantly, any shred of what we used to love about our lives before PP (pandemic parenting).
I looked back at the few photos we took on that day and had a pang of regret. We were only planning on driving home. Jacob was in sweatpants. I wasn’t really wearing makeup. And, the kids didn’t have cute outfits––certainly not the carefully curated vintage apparel I’d been saving for this very occasion. There were no balloons, Dole Whips, personalized Mickey ears, or pictures with characters. I blew my one first time for both of them on a random, half-assed experience. I could never get the first time back. But, this was the the experience we chose and these are the photos I have.
It was so imperfect, and yet it felt like it unfolded exactly as it was supposed to. Oddly enough, it was like we stepped out of one comfort zone and into an old familiar one. We didn’t have nearly everything we needed to do Disney with two kids, but we knew how to navigate the park, made it work for a few hours, and surprised ourselves in so many ways. And, that felt pretty dope.
Luckily, we still get to go back a couple more times. And now, we’ll ALL be a little more prepared. While we were a bit disappointed that our son didn’t share our level of excitement at the park, he’s since talked about it at least once a day and, when asked what he wants to do on the weekends, he says, “Disneyland.” It’s safe to say, we’ve created another Southern California kid who will grow up with magical memories at the park. Maybe next time he’ll want to meet the “real” Mickey.
It’s likely that Jacob and I will still find opportunities to visit Disneyland just the two us, like the before times, but thankfully we never need to embarrassingly downplay being Disney adults again. Because, now we have kids, and after only three hours at the park, it seems like without much fanfare, we’re officially a Disney family.
Thanks for taking us on your journey! Totally enjoyed the ride!! Love you guys dearly
Oh yeah. You know i loved this one! What a sweet memory, and man do i miss spontaneity. Been considering getting a SoCal pass so i too can live that spontaneous Disney life .........