Revisiting Fantasyland

The kids and I spent the first part of last week in Disneyland.

With Chad.

And his sister and her family.

And his parents, who very graciously footed the bill.

It could have been a recipe for disaster. Instead it was a magical time out in a world that is increasingly more complicated.

Chad, the kids, and I arrived Sunday afternoon after a hellish drive with three stops in the first hour. It appears that Elizabeth has inherited her brother's propensity towards motion sickness.

Which is another way of saying, she threw up. A lot.

After checking into the hotel room - which we were all sharing - we walked into the park.

Disneyland at Christmas was amazing. At times I felt like I was in a Christmas commercial. Everything was perfectly color coordinated, perfectly themed, perfectly Disney. It was icy cold and crowded, with lines wrapping around the dark boulevards lit only by colored lights reflected in the windows.

We watched the Christmas parade, ate hot chowder in New Orleans Square and stood in line to see the Haunted Mansion transformed into the Nightmare Before Christmas.

We left the park at eight, exhausted and ready for bed.

We woke to a downpour.

We knew rain was in the forecast. What we didn't know was how much. After a quick trip to Target, we bundled the kids in fleece, windbreakers, rain boots, hats, and gloves. We draped the stroller with a poncho and splashed into the nearly empty park.

We rode rides without having to wait more than a few minutes. We found shelter under the monorail. We ate with our jackets on. And Elizabeth, somehow, fell asleep under the poncho and a fleece blanket, cozy warm while I walked across Toon Town.

We hopped over to California Adventure after she woke and spent the rest of the day in a grueling marathon of rides, water, cold, wind and rain. None of us were ready to cry uncle. We were going to enjoy ourselves no matter what Mother Nature dished out.

We finally called it a night at five. Once the sun set, there was no way for us to stay.

The next morning, we woke to...silence. Not a drop of rain, blue skies, cold temperatures. But not a drop of rain.

We rushed to the park and spent the next eleven hours playing, during which time Joseph became a real Jedi and Elizabeth met Tinkerbell, the kids danced with Phineas and Ferb, and we all went head to head on Astro Blasters and the Toys Story ride.

Overall, it was a fabulous trip. A trippy trip. At one point, Chad held Joseph's hand and walked next to me as I pushed Elizabeth's stroller. To any passerby, we'd be the picture of a happy, nuclear family enjoying a day at Disneyland.

In reality, we're in the middle of a separation, starting divorce proceedings, and trying to figure out how we're going to restructure our little family.

Chad looked at me as we walked down Main Street.

"I feel like we're in a time warp," he confessed, handing me his Diet Coke.

"Me too. It's like the last seven months haven't happened," I said, taking a sip and handing it back.

"But it has."

"I know."

We smiled at each other, a little sadly. I thought of the little married habits we'd developed - sharing drinks, snagging coffee and hot cocoa for each other, packing the hotel room, getting the kids ready for bed.

It felt familiar, yet strange.

It was like trying to sleep in your childhood bedroom - a room that while familiar is also alien and outgrown.

But it was a good trip.