Finding a Happy Place

The week of Christmas for our household was probably one of- if not the worst it will see in its entire history together. We didn’t have nasty feuding families or uncomfortable long drives to far off places with blizzards abounding. We had a 3 letter word completely and utterly consume our entire household.

FLU
 
Sounds simple enough, but with 4 sick children, a sick husband and  holiday dishes to be made for the 3 Christmas’ we were to attend in a matter of  days it made it, at best difficult. But to top off our fiasco sundae, I had a surprise planned out for the kids. The mother of all Christmas gifts that they would only see once in their childhood from us. One that I had prepped, planned, thought out, researched and obsessed over since the Christmas before when one of our friends did the same for their children. The one place every little kid dreams about and hears the quintessential music and castle come floating across the TV screen and the twinkle of a fairy spells out the happiest place on Earth-

 

~Disneyland~

 

I had every (literally every) detail planned out. Christmas morning my happy excited children would find a ginormous box sitting in front of the tree with a big red bow, and as the classic “when you wish upon a star” played in the background the box would open with Mickey mouse balloons floating everywhere with the ever typical mouse ears inside with custom made shirts with their names ever so sweetly typed out in Walt Disney font saying “I’m going to Disneyland”. The kids would scream and we would all cry and they would tell us how excited and appreciative they were!

 Perfect right?!

You’re crying aren’t you?  

 Like a scene from a movie it would play out perfectly…..

 And just 8 days after our perfect Christmas morning, we would pack the car as flawlessly as I had planned from pinterest, drive 12 hours straight because of course we would make excellent time and only stop for gas as our kids slept perfectly the whole way to Anaheim.

 Delusional does not even begin to describe how I was thinking, I know.

 
 Once the Plague had set into motion just 3 days before Christmas I has coughing, sneezing, achy, fever ridden children. The day before Christmas Eve the big bomb set in with my husband getting the worst of it. Not to mention we had the bright idea that year to spend the night at great grandmas so she could see all the kids together on Christmas morning. So after drugging the kids and Heath with all medications known to man kind, scrubbing them off in the bath, dressing every member of my household (barely myself) and packing all the items needed for the ever magical surprise box that they couldn’t see until the next morning, all their clothes for the next day and pharmaceuticals to keep them running. Oh- and don’t forget the presents for the 2 Christmas’ in less then 5 hours of each other.

Once we made it through the evening and got the sniffling children and husband to bed I stay up until after midnight making the magic box. In the morning I was met with over tired, sick children, upset that they had to even be out of bed and wondering why Santa had only brought a big box with (supposed) promises of something that was over a week away!

Deflation sets in along with exhaustion.  

The ever present illness then consumed our next 8 days with my husband having  double pneumonia to the point we were worried about even being able to go on our trip- making our already skeptical, barely recovered children question the validity of this “supposed” trip. Once the doctor finally gave clearance I perfectly packed each bag, even put the car carrier on top of the car by myself, looked up gas station, planned out our eating stops and how I would be able to drive the entire trip so heath could continue to rest and I would still manage to conquer our vacation as planned.

I again am in complete denial of our current situation as you can see, and continue with my “perfectly planned” trip.

I will spare you the complete details but after having a crying baby the majority of the drive, myself nauseated and puking my guts out, some even while in rush hour traffic while driving, Heath ended up taking over and driving for most of the trip. After 17 long and grueling hours we finally made it to Anaheim.

The very next day I loaded everyone up for the first day in the park. I was fuming because we were late getting out the door (NOT according to my park plan print out) and  trying to manage all the details again and figure out where to park, catch the shuttle, load all food, water bottles, hats, signature books, pin lanyards oh- and kids, was completely taking its toll.

Then it happened.

We walked through the entrance, the music played, the looks of wonder and marvel and pure magic struck my children’s faces.

 
They were here- really here

And like bees to honey they were taking it all in. They wanted to see every thing, do everything, watch everything, and ride everything. As an adult- being able to see the real magic happen before your eyes was worth all the sickness, loss of plans and utter chaos I had gone through those past weeks to get to that moment. We spent the entire week not following much of a plan.  It wasn’t the way I wanted. It wasn’t the way I had planned it- but it was, in the words of Mary Poppins; practically perfect in every way.

We had the delight of being able to cook our own meals in the townhouse we rented. So here was a meal that made for a magical evening.

Green Chile Cheesy Chicken

4 small chicken breasts, pounded thin

salt and pepper to taste

1 drained 4 oz. can of chopped green chiles

6 ounces cream cheese, room temperature

1 cup cheddar cheese, shredded

8 slices bacon

 

Preheat oven to 400 degrees

In a medium mixing bowl combine cream cheese cheddar, and green chiles.

Lay the chicken flat, season both sides with salt and pepper, place 1/4 of the on the chicken and roll them up.

Wrap each chicken breast with 2 slices of bacon and place them in a baking dish.

Bake about 25-35 minutes