For me, Disneyland is like going home.
Having been born in Southern California and spending my younger years there, memories of my childhood are dotted with trips to the happiest place on earth. Most vivid are images of my brother and I running from ride to ride with our cousins, Julie and Justin. I even remember the days when we used ticket books for the rides and E tickets were the coveted prize. I always wanted to live inside It's a Small World, grab a handful of golden coins from Pirates of the Caribbean, and loved to be reassured that Thunder Mountain was "the wildest ride in the wilderness."
While I've enjoyed sharing this magical vacation spot with my kids numerous times, I've also enjoyed being able to rekindle my youth on trips with just girlfriends. At the spry age of 38 years old, I will hold my head up high and ignore the eye rolling and the naysayers prodding questions...."Don't you really need your kids to enjoy a trip to Disneyland?!"
"No way, Jose!"
I will never apologize for being a kid at heart.
{And for believing in pixie dust.}
Day 1: The lone giant no more! Laura, a sister-in-law to the Holbrook gals, was a good 1.5" taller than me
(how could that be?) She was a newbie to the whole Disneyland experience and we broke her in quickly by completing a tour of the park by early afternoon. This group moves fast!
"Clean-up in the cup of blue, please."
The only way these girly girls would go on Splash Mountain was if I'd sit in the front seat and take the brunt of the moisture.
There are 6 of us on this ride. Only 3 are visible because the other 3 were curled up in the fetal position
willing the water to splash elsewhere.
Randee: My twin separated by 10 years (and, oh, let's say about 100 pounds). She knows how much I love Tower of Terror and I know how much she hates it. We arm wrestled. I won.
As you can plainly see, Randee and her mom, Cheryl, thoroughly enjoyed their single ride on The Tower of Terror. I distinctly remember hearing my name mixed with several curse words during the plunging and accelerating of the ride. My arm sustained permanent damage from Randee's python grip.
Cheryl, Laura, Summer, Kristen, Randee, Paige
Summer was our golden ticket this year. She blew out her knee about 6 weeks ago while skiing, had surgery, and was still in a knee brace on our trip. Because walking was still laborious for her, she rode in a wheelchair and was our direct link to the front of all the lines at Disneyland.
Randee REEAAALLLLYYY wanted to take these Mad Hatter hats back to Jeremy and Jeff, but I talked her out of it. I told her she was just getting caught up in the moment. :D
Our first ride on Splash Mountain proved to be disastrous to my hair. Since I was banished to the front of the raft again on our second run, I was determined to be better prepared. Notice the gift bag. On my head. Since I don't prefer suffocating, I rigged myself some air holes.
I was grateful for the peppy Zippity Do Da music because I couldn't see a danged thing with that thing on my head.
While on the trip, I ate a huge piece of humble pie happily dished up by Randee and Cheryl. Last year I was the reigning Annie Oakley of the group. I had some mad rifle skills at the Shooting Gallery. This year I failed miserably. Cheryl kicked my hiney big time. Randee dominated both times we rode the Toy Story ride. I walked away with my head hung low but you can be rest assured I'll be quick on my draw next year.
Grizzly River Run. Of course, I campaigned to go on another water ride because I have no pride and don't mind looking like a drowned rat, and I thoroughly enjoy walking around in wet jeans
(nothin' feels better!) Everyone went ahead and spent $49.95 on a poncho to keep dry.
But not me.
I go for the
free shower cap from the hotel.
(It should be noted here that the free shower cap can also double as lunch lady head wear.)
(It should also be noted that, after looking at myself in this picture, I am definitely convinced that I need to do some modeling. Seriously...)
Sasquatch and Polly Pocket.
I found this gem in my suitcase stuck in one of my shoes. This is the exact same Donald Duck and sweet message that Taiden surprised me with last year.
"No, Randee. You can't buy that hat either."
Disney's California Adventure was hosting the Food and Wine Festival. They had cooking demonstrations with celebrity chefs throughout the weekend. We saw Jeffrey Saad (runner up on The Next Food Network's Star) several times during our stay. He sat at the table next to ours at the Napa Rose restaurant (where I ate black truffles for the first time in my life) and he passed us several times in the park.
When he was on stage doing a food demonstration, we stopped to watch for a minute. I wished I hadn't.
I know it's hard to read his lips in this picture, but what he's saying is, "Hey you....in the shower cap.... you should model!"
You're a mover, a shaker, an afternoon nap taker.
You like to think the world is at your disposal. You point at something and a sibling scampers to get it for you. You speak in garbled tones, that only you can understand, and another sibling runs to your aid. You say "peeze" while flashing your one dimpled smile and everyone is putty in your hands. You know you're so stinkin' cute and you work it. 
You are working on expanding your vocabulary . You particularly struggle with your knowledge of animal classifications. For you, every animal - every bird in the sky, every furry creature great or small (domesticated or not) - is called a "puppy". That still remains your favorite word and is spoken with such enthusiasm and spark that mom and dad are half tempted to run out and buy you one.
Your cheeks are constantly pecked and you don't mind it (much).
You shake with excitement when told to go get your "shooooooze" because you know it means you get to go outside (your favorite part of the house). 
You know that look on your brother's face means, "su bola es mi bola".
You love the whole monkey see monkey do phenomenon. Taiden flexes his muscles, you flex your muscles (in your shorty McShort PJ shorts). Kennedy dances like it's 1999, you do the same. Your dad kicks the ball, you kick the ball. Brittan shoots his Nerf guns and suddenly you're Rambo Jr. 
You don't mind that you get homemade strawberry pie (with shortbread crust) rather than the traditional birthday cake. Your discriminating palate likes all forms of dessert equally.
You don't know exactly what a golden birthday is (the day when your age matches your birth date) but you soon find out that with that special day, grandparents, presents, and a whole lot of singing comes your way.
