The scary very bad day at the happiest place on earth.

Dear Disneyland Security,

You disappointed me Monday. Thank goodness disappointment is a wound that will heal.

Our visit to Disneyland had been wonderful – almost flawless. Your sunshine, your amazing Halloween decor, and your ability to transport us to the planet Batuu were experiences we won’t soon forget! We were literally smiling from ear to ear and enjoying every moment…

And then, we opted to go watch the preview for this season’s “The Goldbergs” showing in the Opera House. We adore the show – literally laugh out loud at every single episode, and thought it would be delightful to enhance our memories of this trip with the laughter an episode of our favorite TV family traveling to Disneyland would offer.

And we were right.

And then we weren’t.

The repeated coughing in the back of the theater startled us. My 13-year-old turned to see if the gentleman was ok. He stepped over two rows of theater seats to engage with her – asking if she was talking to him. And it was not friendly banter. My husband quickly interceded – gesturing to the screen and urging him to not interrupt with talking.

The man began cursing. He began moving with crazed eyes aggressively toward our row. My daughter was panicked. My son who struggles with anxiety issues anyway, began panicking in his wheelchair. My husband stood to put himself between the man and all of us. 

The man was yelling at this point. Yelling and ranting words that didn’t make sense. He cursed at us. He beat his chest in a “You want to fight me?” gesture. And then he yelled “Who did you vote for?” repeatedly. It was jarring and strange…..his random curiosity about our voting practices would have been humorous were it not for the aggression visible in his eyes and manner.

Wade told our friend Jeff to get security. Jeff sprinted out the opposite door to do that.

The cast member for the show came in. The man – alarmed by Wade’s yelling for security – began backing toward the exit door but he never quit yelling. Never quit gesturing. 

Now here is where you come in, dear Disneyland security. Oh wait, it isn’t. You were not near us. The staff at the theater were left to deal with the outburst. Before the show ended, the cast member returned to tell us to stay in the show to give you time to apprehend the man.

When the show ended, the cast member returned to ask us to remain behind the curtain at the exit because the man was out front looking for us. He was apparently going among the cast members asking for information about us – a family easily recognizable by the wheelchair that goes where we go. We assumed as we stood behind that curtain feeling incredibly vulnerable that you, Disneyland Security, were busy apprehending this man. We assumed that we were waiting for a safe exit where YOU had in custody a man who intended us harm. 

Then a cast member came to apologize (again) and asked us to follow her to City Hall so they could “make this right”. Still, we had not seen you anywhere. I honestly hoped that the cast member was an undercover policeman and caught myself looking for a hidden gun. I was hoping that at last security was with us.

But when we got to City Hall….and were sequestered in a side room, this cast member left us. She introduced us to another cast member…..and she introduced us to you. We made another statement. The fourth time we would explain what happened. You nodded along. Another family in the auditorium had already called you in and made a statement about the episode.

You left us to make calls. We tried to find humor sitting in a back room in City Hall on Main Street at our beloved Disneyland….but we couldn’t finish a single thought that didn’t involve what had just happened. The friends with us were as shaken as we were. We wanted to calm down. We wanted to re-find the magic we had felt just an hour earlier. But we were all completely at a loss for how to find that again.

Guest Service Cast member returned with fast passes. She offered us special parade viewing. We didn’t want either really. What we wanted was to be able to finish our trip without looking over our shoulders for a man who clearly needed help – for a man who clearly needed attention. 

We asked if you had him. You said no. He had escaped down Main Street before you got there.

We asked if there had been video surveillance of the building where you at least had a good visual on who you were looking for. You never answered.

We asked if you would be with us – with these gifted fast passes – making sure we were safe and NOT as vulnerable as we felt. You assured us there was security all over the park ready to assist us. And yet, it had been half an hour at least before we saw you this first time after this happened.

We decided we had to leave Disneyland for peace of mind. We went to California Adventure. We assumed we would be safe there because you were watching for him at the exits – we ASSUMED you were watching for him. But you were not. There was not a single security officer at the exits.

The cloud of vulnerability followed us the rest of the day. We are at least a thousand miles away today and we still feel like we want to circle our 13-year-old and ensure she is safe.

We are fine. No wounds except our feelings. But oh man, I need you to do better. Please please increase your staff if necessary, get the training for your team, do the quickness drills, find the video surveillance. If this ever happens again – and oh man we hope nothing like this ever happens again – you can rush in, securing the man in order to get him help, as SOON as he starts making threats against a family in the Happiest Place on Earth.

Don’t worry I am still wearing my ears. They just are sagging a bit.

 

That is me singing Newsies at the top of my lungs.

To be a member of this family means that you have a movie line and/or musical song to accompany any and every situation.

For example:

The night before my wedding I was singing "How do you solve a problem like Maria?" uncontrollably. I mean, it is after all what the nuns sang when Maria married Captain Von Trapp!

When it rains, we have an entire repertoire of songs we work our way through -- usually starting with "It's raining on prom night!" and ending with "If all of the raindrops were lemon drops and gum drops" with a healthy dose of Carpenters and "Singing in the Rain" thrown in!

And last week when a gentleman at indoor softball practice held up a piece of equipment and said "What does this do?" I couldn't resist saying "It makes you beautiful." (Truvy, "Steel Magnolias")

And y'all, I am not even scratching the surface here.

So keep that in mind as I tell you that we have been spending a lot of time listening to "Newsies", Little Red's soundtrack of choice for the ride to school. And every time I hear the song "Brooklyn's Here" I cry. I mean real tears, can't talk for a second cry. Even as I am swallowing deep so that I can sing along with Cate, I have been wondering why in the world the song is affecting me so strongly.

Today it hit me.

Do you know the story of "Newsies"? The young boys in New York at the turn of the century are outraged when the newspaper raises the rate for their bundle of papers to make more money. They revolt. And at first the rag tag bunch is just stirring things up and getting people hurt and thrown in jail....right up until the Newsies from all the surrounding boroughs show up in solidarity and support.

Just glance at the lyrics:

Newsies need our help today (Newsies need our help today)

Tell 'em, Brooklyn's on the way (Tell 'em, Brooklyn's on the way)

We're from (Brooklyn)

We are (newsies)

We are Brooklyn newsies

Just got word that our buddies is hurtin'

Facing total disaster for certain

That's our cue, boys, it's time to go slummin'

Hey Manhattan, the Calvary's comin'!

Have no fear (you know we've got your back from way back)

Brooklyn's here (we'll get your pay back and some payback)

We're the boys from the beaches of Brighton

Prospect Park and the navy yard pier

Strikes ain't fun, but they sure is exciting

Loud and clear - Brooklyn's here!

SPOT CONLON

Borough what gave me birth

BROOKLYN NEWSIES

Friendliest place on earth

Pay us a visit, you'll see what we means

And when you do (when you do)

We'll kick you halfway to Queens

Now them soakers is in for a soakin'

What a sad way to end a career

They's a joke, but if they thinks we're jokin'

Loud and clear

Manhattan's here

Flushing's here

Richmond's here

Woodside's here

So's the Bronx (Bronx cheer)

ALL

Brooklyn's here

Loud and clear, we is here!

Read more: Newsies-Original Broadway Cast - Brooklyn's Here Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Brooklyn. Manhattan. Flushing. Richmond. Woodside. The Bronx. All those young boys came together to support their friends. They came to stand with them and fight. The story is beautiful and the show fantastic -- even the top-of-our-lungs-singing that happens in my van on a daily basis bears witness to the great music. But please don't miss this -- the best part for me is that when times got tough, those kids pulled together and fought the fight in solidarity.

I know. What in the world does this have to do with me?

Some days I feel like I have been fighting for almost 20 years for my boys to have the rights and opportunities afforded to able-bodied children in this country. I would attend IEP meetings with some dear teachers and principals who with one unhidden eye-roll could speak volumes about the effort that they felt providing an education to my boys cost.

This week as confirmation hearings for the new administration are held I have heard over and over again how challenging compliance for giving children like mine an equal education can be. I feel so sick listening.

As most of you know who have been with me here for long, we love Disney. Going to Walt Disney World or Disneyland has been a privilege that has allowed us to feel less different. More included. And we adore the memories we have made at both places.

But even there, I am fully aware of the eye-rolling going on as we enter a wheelchair loading zone and the line is held up momentarily. I am embarrassed to tell you that I work hard to keep our Fast Passes visible to all as we enter so that they can not judge us harshly. I am all but shouting, "We waited too, we played by the rules".

I see the disgust when the bus driver asks people to get up because he has to fold seats up for my boys. I try to apologize always and thank them repeatedly. I feel it is my job to entertain crying overtired children on the buses because I somehow need to pay for the "luxury" of taking those seats in order for my son and his wheelchair to have a spot on the bus.

But I always assume that those feelings are from my exhaustion -- that I am overtired and over thinking things. I assume that people are good and when they see my son having to drive onto the bus that their hearts are tender to him and they don't really mind that they have to give up the seats. I hope that it is my exhaustion. I pray that it is my exhaustion.

Sadly, today Wade was looking for the answer to a question on a Disney discussion group and found these two posts -- really he found this first one and felt a need to respond -- something he never does -- thinking his gently telling them about Benjamin would remind them to be compassionate.

Wade responded by telling them how much "ADA Compliance" meant to his Disney-loving son in a power wheelchair, the one for whom the ride has to pause briefly.

This was the reply to CP Dad, my husband.

Oh wow Vectrex and Barb, you just confirmed all my worst fears. 

In recent weeks I have had private messages, emails and texts sent from friends wanting me to know that they would stand with my family to defend the rights of the disabled if necessary. Friends that recognize we need to move forward with making this nation accessible -- not stand still or God-forbid move backwards.

And so, when those Newsies from Brooklyn show up and say "We are here. We have your back," I cry. I cry. Because so much of this journey has been isolating. So often it has been me on one side of the table and a grade of teachers and school administrators on the other. So often it has been me at doctor appointments and seating clinic visits trying to find the best orthotic to help Mason walk, to help Benjamin stand. So often, it has been Wade and I sitting across a table from each other searching for the right surgery, the right surgeon. When all our "experts" wanted to bow to Wade's expertise but that meant making the decision alone, himself, for our children.

So often the bus for the school field trip was inaccessible which meant Benjamin and I rode alone in the van while everyone else rode together.

So often we sit alone in the back of the theatre, the church, the movie because the best seats are elsewhere and no one wants the accessible seats -- or those near us.

So often. Alone.

In the Fall the elevator broke and Benjamin could not get to the theatre for opening night of the show he had served as Dramaturg.  After feeling like our efforts might be exhausted, I ran up the stairs to tell them it wasn't possible to get him there. The beautiful ticket coordinator looked at me and said, "The cast says they will not go on until Benjamin is in the theatre."

I cried.

My Benjamin was not alone. Those kids might as well have been signing "Brooklyn's Here" when we rolled in!

And so I will focus on those stories and will re-read my messages of solidarity. And will pray that those who would eye-roll and those who will post on discussion boards will be few. And I will pray that friends will come alongside us and say NO to the eye-rollers and REPRIMAND those bothered by Haunted Mansion pausing. I pray for friends who will throw their fists in the air and sing with me "Brooklyn's Here!"

Honestly, we should probably go on and learn the dance!

Let the Magic Begin

The day started out super special -- the Shrader family was invited to "open" Disneyland complete with early entrance, getting the cherished entrance photo before anyone else was in the park, and our little crew shouting "Let the Magic Begin" before the first guest was allowed to pass through the turn stile. No doubt our cheesy matching t-shirts had drawn some attention. No doubt the fact that we were clearly one family with two wheelchairs had drawn some attention.

My brain immediately flashed back to an encounter last month where two of the boys closest friends noticed -- and made jokes -- about the fact that the boys often get special attention at some places (i.e. Star Wars Conventions, Disneyland). Benjamin thought it was a funny joke. Mason was inclined to laugh as well. I was hurt. And in true Mama-bear fashion, attempted to explain how to these young men that while they, both amazing thespians, can run, jump and even flip onto stage in a performance, Benjamin and Mason never will. While they can walk, jog or dance to any and every place they desire to go, Benjamin and Mason can not. One friend nodded in somewhat understanding and then said, "So, getting special treatment balances things out."

At which point my head spun right off my body, exploding in the room and leaving all manner of emotional mess. Sigh.

Yesterday brought all those emotions rushing back. Yes, we received some special attention for about five minutes at our happy place. But can I tell you about the next couple of hours:

We headed immediately to Matterhorn -- hoping to get a chance to ride the roller-coaster before the line was too long. We already knew that Benjamin and I would sit out however. The vehicle for Matterhorn does not accommodate Benjamin well and the ride it self is super hard on him because it is so jerky. Since his spine fusion, he has to pass on this one.

The line was already too long -- navigating crowds with six people, two in wheelchairs isn't a fast process, even if you are first through the gate.

We then went to ride Space Mountain. Disneyland has the best loading for Space -- the track actually moves a vehicle aside so that we can load at our leisure and then it slides us back to the track. Still, Wade lifts Benjamin, while I guide B's legs into the ride, while the girls are helping Mason out of his wheelchair and making sure his power sticks are securely put away. After the ride, we do this all in reverse. Me helping Wade lift B, before I turn to help Mason while Claire and Cate are grabbing the wheelchairs and bringing them forward to us.

Deep breath and we are off to ride number two. Yesterday, we decided to try Alice's Wonderland Ride -- only certain rides are available during early entry. Once again, Wade lifted Benjamin out of his chair and into the cart. Mason climbed aboard too while the girls and I moved wheelchairs.

After Alice we rode the teacups where it takes both Wade and I to get Benjamin through the narrow teacup door and seated somewhat securely. It is my turn to hold him stable. Mason, Claire and Cate share a teacup and delightedly make it spin faster and faster. Wade, B, and I were happy to sit and just ride for bit. Actually we did take two turns -- special treatment, again, right? -- before unloading in reverse.

The next ride was Storybook Boats. The kids only ride that one for me. It makes me smile so big to ride through Monstro's mouth and into the Storybook land. But today it was hard. We had not ridden in years, and had forgotten why. I loaded the boat and Wade handed Benjamin down to me. The bench was not a height that really allowed him to stabilize himself, so he basically laid on me for stability the entire ride. So not only was I balancing myself, I was balancing him. Unloading was just as tricky as the cast member kept talking about  balancing the boat so it didn't overturn. Oh my goodness, that is exactly what I needed to happen!

I say all of this to say that by 9:30, we were all tired and grumpy and had lost a bit of our magic. (Of course in our matching t-shirts people kept stopping to talk to us about opening the park....) We finally just pulled over and circled up as a family to decompress a bit, to admit that it is hard sometimes, to grieve the fact that Mama can not lift Benjamin as high as I could when he was little so that makes it harder, and to determine that yes, we still have fun here and yes, we want to go on having fun.

And in my head, I was thanking God for the "special treatment" we had received early that morning. But I was also wishing I could help my sons' friends understand. The special treatment did not balance the hard stuff out; the special treatment did not make the muscles any less tired after a full day of lifting in and out of rides and wheelchairs. No, instead the treatment speaks to us, it says, "Hey, we see you. We see how amazing your children are and we see that perhaps maybe this is a little bit harder for you than the average family. Let us make it a trip to remember."

And that little bit of understanding is where the magic really begins.

In case you wonder...it is still a pretty happy place!

The morning had begun with breakfast at Cinderella's castle and could not have been more perfect for my trio celebrating their fourth birthdays. Unfortunately, the day had not begun so well for the princess as we were told she had ripped her dress and would be unable to take photos with us in the castle.  The staff were dear however, and had a plan. They gave us a time to return to the castle later in the day for a photo opportunity. When we returned, the line was out the door. Many other families had been at breakfast along with us and had returned for the now-mended Cinderella to sign their autograph books and have her photo taken with their children. The Fairy-Godmother saw my cute little boys standing with their eager-to-see-her-hero sister, one in a walker, one with crutches. She waved us forward but Dad and I shook our heads no. We didn't mind waiting in line. And then, the most amazing thing happened. These families turned and saw us. They smiled and parted like the Red Sea, motioning us forward.

And my mommy-heart wept with tears of pure gratitude at the goodness of people. Oh, people can be so very good.

The year after the torn-dress incident...still delighted to see Cindi!

Three years later, we were visiting Disneyland. The boys had graduated to wheelchairs by this point and we knew finding a spot for non-standing viewing of the fireworks would be a challenge. So THREE hours before the show, Wade and I camped out with our adorable 7-year-olds to get a spot where they could view the show unobstructed. Wade took turns with the children, taking them for snacks and just to tootle around the park. But I and at least one child, sat for three hours securing that spot. At an hour out, Wade quit leaving. Things were getting crowded and it was going to take all hands on deck to ensure that no one stood in front of our children blocking their line of sight. Five minutes before the show started a group of adults squeezed in in front of us. FIVE MINUTES before show time. I leaned over Benjamin's little chair and tapped the man. "Excuse me sir. You are blocking my son's view."  He shrugged that he did not care. He shrugged.

And my mommy-heart wept with tears of despair at the selfishness of people. Oh, people can be wholly and completely self-absorbed.

Dancing in the parade in 2002!

Sadly, we were not surprised by the man's behavior. We had seen people behaving badly all day. Teenagers taking turns in Disneyland rental wheelchairs so that they could get to the front of the lines. Groups of 15 or more able-bodied adults pushing their sleeping grandmother in a wheelchair so they could use the accessible entrance. We knew the limit per wheelchair was six -- that includes the w/c bound guest -- per attraction. We knew that these people breaking the rules repeatedly would eventually affect us. We knew.

And our hearts hurt then. And when people we knew would tell us how they waited for their relative who sometimes used a w/c to take them to Disneyland so they didn't have to wait in line, our hearts hurt. My Mommy mouth wanted to shout "WAIT IN LINE ALREADY! Do you know how desperately I wish we could STAND in a line?? Do you know how badly I wish we could climb the STAIRS that prevent us from getting in regular line at Splash Mountain and other rides?"

I really really wanted to scream often...and at many. But what really bothered me was that I knew the day would come would Disney would have to say, "Enough." Enough abuse of a system (I anticipated the changes in access. Feel free to click and read.) that was meant to protect those who need it. Enough. Now, we will have to put measures in place to ensure no special treatment because frankly, we aren't allowed to question the validity of your need for a w/c. So we will have to punish everyone -- you, you, and all the people who really and truly depend on wheelchairs. Really.

That day has come and as we ventured to our favorite place on this side of the country last week we knew we would encounter changes. We were aware. We were ready.

Our first day was in California Adventure. Nothing different there. We got our usual Fast Passes for Radiator Springs and then proceeded straight to Toy Story Mania as soon as the park opened. We waited in the normal queue for Toy Story and when we reached the loading zone, we simply left one line to go past the normal loading zone to the special zone. We didn't save a step, dear ones. I promise. We even walked further than able-bodied guests, if you want to know the truth.

But I love this ride, because they let Benjamin drive right on and strap him down. The rest of our crew gets to ride the vehicle behind Benjamin's and once we are all in place they move the track to allow us to join the fun. It is amazing! We do not mind waiting in line. We don't mind one little bit. We LOVE that loading Benjamin does not slow any one else down or hinder their enjoyment to the ride.

We did the same with Radiator Springs. When it was time for our Fast Pass, we went and got in the normal Fast Pass line. Oh, we bypassed the big huge line. But that wasn't for special treatment, that was because we got up and got to the park early enough to secure six fast passes for our family. We waited in the normal queue until they diverted us past the regular loading area -- again, much like Toy Story -- and let us take our time loading our family in the race car. (They didn't even let us win the race! ;) )

My hands are at 10 and 2, Mom. 10 and 2.

While waiting for our Fast Pass time, we had been able to ride Screamin' Over California,  meet Donald, and even take a whirl on Mickey's Fun Wheel! California Adventure is easily accessible and our day was a delight!

Mickey's Fun Wheel is a....scream!!

Monday evening we had dinner in Disneyland and thought we would ride some rides. We stopped at Indiana Jones and encountered our first change in the system. A cast member took all six of our tickets, scanned them and gave us a hand-written "fast pass" to return in an hour. We proceeded to Splash Mountain to check the wait. The line was not horrible so we went to the accessible entrance. There we were told that since we were "in the system" for Indiana Jones we could not get in line for Splash. She could not give us a "Fast Pass." We understood that. After all, guests are allowed one regular fast pass at a time. But this was a ride where the regular line is not possible for us because of stairs. If a non-disabled guest had a Fast Pass for Indiana Jones, they could choose to wait in line for Splash. That was not an option for us. So because we could not get in the regular queue -- stairs -- we could not ride this ride during our "waiting time" for the special "fast pass" even though no wheelchairs were waiting to ride, no one was in the line at all.

We fumbled around for a few minutes not knowing what to do next. The park is laid out in such a way that for us to ride a non-fast-pass-required ride we would have had to fight our way across the park through the crowds. That is do-able and we certainly are pros at navigating two wheelchairs through the crowds but we had to be at Indiana Jones within the designated time frame or we would not be allowed entrance. We were stuck.

When we noticed that Haunted Mansion had NO wait, we decided to give it a try. We were allowed access and very much enjoyed our Doom-Buggy ride -- thankful the entire time that we had not been stopped at the queue and told we could not ride. (I feel I should clarify that IF there had in fact been a big line, we would not have been allowed to enter this ride either, without a special "fast pass".)

Snakes? Why did it have to be snakes??

Just when we felt we had it figured out and could navigate the new regulations, the cast members at Star Tours almost sent me over the edge. Fast Passes in hand, I approached the cast member in charge of the line to ask if we should use the main entrance or go through the exit (as per usual, but history has told us that this changes from day to day on this ride.). She said, "Oh no, your family can go through the main queue now." I nodded in gratitude. "Fantastic. So we line up in the Fast Pass line." Oh, she looked annoyed with my questions, "Yes. The normal line." But I knew she wasn't listening to my concerns: "Just to clarify, my son in his power wheelchair can go through the regular line?"  Clearly annoyed now and refusing to even make eye-contact, "YES." Me (also annoyed at the lack of eye-contact): "I only ask because we do this every single time and then you tell us that his chair weighs too much for the ramp in the queue."  Cast member: "The. Regular. Line."

Ok then.

Guess what? When we got back to her, she looked at Benjamin in his power wheelchair and told me he would have to transfer to another wheelchair because....wait for it....his chair was too heavy for the ramp in the queue. (You had to have seen that coming, right?)

Deep breath. Deep swallow. Deeper breath. "Yes, that is what I was trying to ask you about earlier. He has Cerebral Palsy and can not support himself in a generic wheelchair. He can not transfer. We lift him onto the ride from his power chair. Hence all my questions a few minutes ago."

Another cast member approaches, "What seems to be the problem?" I explain. With perhaps a touch of emotion as I was teetering on the edge of screaming "WHY DOES THIS HAVE TO BE SO HARD????"

As the cast member listened, she asked if we would like to see her boss, the lead. My dear hubby, seeing the tears welling in my eyes and knowing I was less-than-stable to handle much more replied that "Yes, we would very much like to see your boss."

Amazing thing. Boss enters the picture, takes one look at Benjamin and says, "Of course, you should just come to the exit to enter this ride. We know he can't use the regular queue."

AAAAAARRRGGGHHH. But again, I took a deep breath and proceeded to discuss exactly how this should be handled in the future (apparently we are to ask for the Lead -- aka the boss -- every time we approach the ride because the basic cast member can not make exceptions like we require.) And I refrained from screaming about the level of difficulty....about the mind-reading required....about the pain of trying to ride one of my family's favorite attractions because really, I know why it is so hard. I know exactly why it is so hard. It is hard because selfish, self-centered, please-me-right-now people took advantage of a system that worked for my family and as a result Disney had to lay down some hard rules. Some stringent rules. And though there are cast members that can think through the logistics and make the access truly accessible...they are all on the A-team and apparently Star Tours had their b-team working that night!

Are you sensing the "I want to drive" theme?

Thankfully for us, Disneyland had their A-team scheduled on Tuesday and Wednesday! These cast members were on the ball, doling out the required Fast Passes for rides where a FP is not required for the general pubic with an apology and a smile. With the exception of a little stumble: the cast member at Jungle Cruise was telling us we could not get a Fast Pass for his ride because we were in the system for another ride. But when he looked behind him to see what we already knew -- NO ONE was in the queue -- he let us on.

Big Thunder Mountain with some of our favorite people!

Cause Cotton Candy makes even the best days even better!!

Love the Jungle Cruise boat that allows Benjamin to drive right on!

I need to be clear. Very very clear. We never once went to Disney -- Walt Disney World or Disneyland -- expecting special treatment. We didn't go anticipating getting to "skirt" the lines or have people make a big deal out of our presence. We went to have family time in a place where Benjamin and Mason could participate with us rather than sit on the sidelines like they have to do so so so often. I want you to understand that even if the line thing were not an issue, our choice to spend time at Disney is still a lot of work. Most rides require Benjamin to be transferred. That means Wade and I (usually Wade) have to lift our amazing young man out of his chair and into the ride. And usually this has to happen quickly so not to disrupt the flow of the ride. Threeish minutes later we have to lift him off again and back into his chair. All the while assisting Mason in navigating any steps in and out of and ensuring Claire and Cate are safe as well. The line part should be easy. It should be straightforward.

I will not lie and tell you that special things have not happened for my little family in our Disney travels. They have. You might remember my sweet Aladdin story from the year the triplets turned 4. Or perhaps I have told you about the next year when Aladdin recognized the trio and asked them to ride on his brand new ride with HIM!

But for the most part, we love Disney because we make memories together there. We spend time together with no demands on any one's time except those that Fast Pass require! We spend time smiling and laughing and being a family. I do not need Disney to let us in line first. I don't. But the plea of my heart is that they really think through their accessibility issues to ensure they are not making access harder for a population that already has life hard enough.

 All in all, our joy remained intact in our favorite backyard park last week. We made memories as a family; we spent time with loved ones; we reunited with friends from days gone by; and we took a deep breath and adjusted our expectations. Yes, we will have to walk further; plan more; and allow for enjoying the down time on our trips to Disney. We will have to prioritize rides so that we wait for the must-rides and forego the wish-we-could-haves. We will bite our tongue when the b-team is working and hopefully by helping us and seeing the joy their job brings they will find the hidden A-team member within!

Want to meet us at the castle?

My turn to talk about Disney's new accessibility.

Dear friends have reached out to me by email, Facebook and phone this week wanting me to know about the changes Disney is implementing in regards to how my special family will ride their rides. I appreciate it. I felt your love and concern. And as a result, I have pondered. I have contemplated. Wade, the kids and I have discussed it. And I feel I need to respond. But perhaps not like you think I will....

Cause, what I  really want to do is tell you a story. Will you listen?

Benjamin woke up in the recovery room after his second surgery -- his first orthopedic surgery. He was wearing double leg casts and yet smiling at his Dad and I from ear-to-ear as the amazing three-year-old usually did. Dad asked him what he could do to help him feel better -- precious boy replied, "I want to go to Disney World."

Now, ya'll, we were in the midst of residency with less money then we had mouths to feed. A trip to Disney was not in our plans. But we began to scrimp corners. We began to save pennies. And we began to plan a trip to the most magical place on earth for the triplets' 4th birthday celebration the following year.

We started the trip with a visit to Cinderella's Castle. I told a sweet story about our time with Aladdin earlier this year -- you might remember. But what I did not say in that post was that Cinderella had torn her dress that morning and was not available for pictures. We were given a pass to return to the castle later in the day for a photo opportunity.

When we returned, the line was snaked back and forth, back and forth in the queue. We assumed our position in the back. The lovely Fairy Godmother saw us -- the boys were standing in their little standers beside Claire who was fully decked out in her Cinderella garb -- and motioned for us to come to the front of the line. Wade and I shook our head no. We did not want special treatment. She motioned again and this time the other families did this incredible, amazing thing: they parted like the Red Sea, urging us forward. I am bawling even as I type this. It was a moment that I will never forget. It was a moment where I realized sometimes my boys would receive special treatment and when it happens it is a testimony to human kindness and we should graciously accept it and feel the warmth of the blessing. It was a big big moment in my motherhood. It was a big big moment for my little family.

The whole trip was packed with magic. The boys had spent nine months in physical therapy preparing for the moment they would see Mickey Mouse. We entered the Animal Kingdom and immediately ran into Pluto. As I was packing up autograph books, my Benjamin disappeared. Disappeared. For about 30 seconds my heart stopped as I scanned the crowd for the little red walker. One glance in the direction of Mickey confirmed my suspicions -- Benjamin was exercising the very thing he had worked so hard to do. He was headed straight to Mickey Mouse!

It was not a perfect trip. We had not begun to use a wheelchair for either boy but Disney gave us a Guest Assistance Card that told ride-operators that the stroller doubled as a wheelchair. We had a third stroller for Claire and the boys' walkers were packed on top of the double stroller along with all the various and asundry supplies that three 4-year-olds required for a day in the park.

We were not without out moments:

We encountered people who wanted to fight us about the stroller. Not Disney employees, but guests of the park, who were angered by our use of a stroller instead of two wheelchairs. 

We had moments where waiting for parades and shows, we encountered other parents with special children, older than our's. And so received the hope that receiving a glimpse of the future offers.

We have been back often -- as anyone who knows us knows. We love the park. We love the magic. We love the way we can relax and enjoy.

But here is the thing: We love this because IT IS A PLACE WHERE WE HAVE EQUAL ACCESS. Please, read that again. And again, if you must. Because I am still the Mama shaking my head at the Fairy Godmother. I don't want or need special treatment. I just want to also enjoy the magic.

A few years ago, a well-meaning friend told me we were awfully lucky to be able to go to the Disney Parks so often. We hear this a lot, actually. And while we know it is true, we are blessed. I also know that this particular friend has a houseful of children in various sports costing a small fortune in fees. I desperately want him to hear my heart that we use all that money that we long to spend on sports-participation-fees to take our boys to a place where they can play too.

So these new rules. Well, I am not shocked. Remember when I talked about those wicked people  who felt the need to "hire" disabled adults to accompany them so they could cut the lines? I blame them. Disney had to respond. Disney had to try to fix a system broken by those who exploit it.

Will it make it harder for us? Possibly. Wade and I will be doing more running back and forth getting the appropriate ride passes for the kids. But know that we are used to hard --life with special needs is hard. And we don't go to Disneyland or Disney World because it makes special needs easy.

We go....and I'm sure ya'll can say this with me now, because it is the one place on earth where my boys can do everything your children can do. 

I am not looking for easy access. I just want EQUAL access. 

And when those special moments happen -- when people go out of their way to make magic for my family -- we will continue to be just as we were on that trip in 2001. Grateful.  Extremely, exceptionally grateful.

Hope for tomorrow.

 "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11


When the triplets were in preschool, my days were filled to the brim with dressing, corralling, therapies, nap times, mealtimes, bedtimes all times three. There was no time to fret. No time for me to imagine the tomorrows, the future. But it was the tomorrows that were knocking my Wade down. As a parent with no previous experience with wheelchairs, special needs, and the world we were just learning to navigate, he could not imagine the future for his boys. He could not pin it down in his mind and he desperately wanted a plan.

We discussed it often but we were looking at the subject from two opposite poles. I was weary from the today. He was weary from the tomorrow.

Monday morning, my adorable, wonderful, precious tiny tiny babes will begin their junior year in high school. The future arrived far faster than I ever dreamed. And no amount of screaming, begging, or searching for brakes will slow it down now.  I am mom to three amazing young people on the verge of their adulthood.

The last year slammed this reality in my face. Mason and Claire began in earnest to research college options -- schools, majors, career plans. But my Benjamin has been guarded. Hesitant. Some days he has been more than guarded, he has been adamant that he not discuss college options.

I walk a tight-rope wire if I am honest. Some days, I want to give him slack, he had a major surgery this summer after all. And some days I want to scream, rant and urge, urge, urge him to seek ways to use the gifts God has given him. Finding the balance gives me a headache.

My solace, the words whispered in my head repeatedly this year are from Jeremiah 29, verse 11: The Lord knows His plans for Benjamin. They involve hope and a future. Hope. And a future.

But even as I rested in that assurance, I longed for Benjamin to believe it. I long for Benjamin to embrace this truth.

Last weekend, we celebrated his surgical recovery with a long-anticipated trip to Anaheim, California. The D23 Expo was being held -- an event for Disney fans held every two years. Benjamin has been planning to take the family since he and his Dad attended two years ago. He had a detailed schedule for our three days.

I know my kiddo loves Disney. We have fed and nurtured that love because we feel it too. We are refreshed and energized by going to the Disney parks because there our boys are fully included in every adventure, every ride, every show, every aspect of the fun. They do not sit on the sidelines. They do not wait while others enjoy rides. We love Disney because it is healing to be able to participate as a family where all four of our beautiful kids can smile from ear-to-ear.

Claire purchased a Precious Moments Doll and met with the Dollmaker!

The early part of the weekend was filled with just that: we listened to Bob Iger, John Lassiter and heard many of the directors, producers and stars of upcoming Disney projects speak, sing, share their vision. I had to admit it was pretty awesome and I knew Benjamin was soaking in every single detail.

But when Sunday rolled around, his schedule outlined a plan to speak to some of the Imagineers -- the brains behind so much of the magic. Driving his chair into the Imagineer Pavilion was a bit daunting. It was packed with people, exhibits and even more stars. But Benjamin hesitated only momentarily before introducing himself to an Imagineer and delving into the path he needs to take if he wants to become one as well. As the two discussed which field of study Benjamin might need to pursue in college, I felt the whisper in my spirit: I know the plans for him. Plans with hope and a future. And right before my eyes, I watched Benjamin begin to share that hope, that belief.

Imagineer Chris Gray, one of my new favorite people.

 He left the Imagineer and realized two of his favorite bloggers/podcasters were in the exhibit hall near him. He immediately began a lengthy discussion with Dueling Disney's Jeff Heimbuck and Keith Gluck. He barely paused for breath. More affirmation from guys who  -- like Benjamin -- love Disney and have carved out a career path through their passion.

My boys with Jeff and Keith -- also on my list of favorite people!

And just in case, this 16-year-old of mine did not have a firm enough grasp on how bright his future looks, when we were ready to leave the pavilion, Benjamin was approached about making a video for Imagineers! Really!

He spent the next half hour with a team who interviewed him about Disney and his passion for Imagineering. It was simply icing on the cake.

Benjamin and the video's director, Noah. Yea, he is so on my list of faves!

And if you'll indulge my bragging for a moment:  They asked to interview Wade and I after Benjamin. I warned the director that we would not be as good as Benjamin. Can I share what he replied? Noah, this dear Disney Director, looked at me and said, "Carol, I interview hundreds of people every weekend. I have never met any as good as Benjamin."

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

Hope is perhaps one of the best blessings of them all.