*cracking knuckles*

Sunday morning dawned clear and hot. I left my husband and kids sleeping, and woke my sister to go for a jog around the resort. Now, I'm not exactly a runner. But I'd just started a training program, and I was supposed to do 1.5 miles on Saturday, and I didn't, because I was busy swimming and tackling alligators and whatnot.

My sister and I headed out into the humidity, and within a block, I was complaining and running like I needed a walker. It was bad. My shins hurt. My butt hurt. My lungs were burning. I was running! Er, limping! My marathoner sister acted like I was doing great, even when I made her walk the last mile of the mile and a half. Heee. I suck.

After a shower, and (get this) straightening my hair, we ate a quick breakfast, and my sister headed out to The Magic Kingdom with my husband, the kids and me.

Disneyworld's parking lot was rather deserted, but the crowds were a-thronging by the time we gained entrance to the park. We used the direct monorail from the transit area, and our train was engineered by what appeared to be a 13 year old boy. Sadly our compartment sort of smelled like pee. The kids didn't care, though, and they whooped and hollered our way down the track.

After exiting the train and entering the park, we came face to face with the icons of the whole empire. My youngest is the only child in my brood that has ever shown any interest in meeting the characters, and she almost hyperventilated when she spotted Mickey and Minnie under the giant planted Mickey Head.

Despite my pleas for a group photo with one of the mice, my older two kids refused, so I stood in line with my youngest to meet Minnie.

The mercury was already soaring towards the 100 degree mark, and we purchased some giant water bottles with attached fans to mist ourselves as we walked. Fully-loaded, they weighed about 700 pounds and delivered a drenching with every squeeze of the trigger. They were worth every one of the twenty dollars (each) - ah Theme Park Pricing, how I love thee.

We ambled down Main Street, and paused for photos in front of Cinderella Castle, before making a beeline for Tomorrowland.

After a ride on Buzz Lightyear, we were already hot, and cranky, and eager for some relief from the blinding heat. We got fast passes for Space Mountain and rode in shifts. While my daughter, sister and husband took the first shift, I stayed with the little kids and played with the giant carved rock thing.

We misted ourselves silly, and once the Space Mountain crew had returned to base, my sister and I ditched the kids and the hubs and ran on again. Woo hoo!

While the rides were still fun, it seemed that The Magic Kingdom lacked some of the sparkle of Disneyland. I guess we were spoiled to have seen Disneyland all spruced up for the big 50th Anniversary. It just seemed like Disneyland had had more attention to detail in the individual attractions - from the approach to the rides to the outside atmosphere, Magic Kingdom felt like it needed a face lift.

Or maybe that was me, needing another ice cream bar. Hmm.

We headed over to Autopia next. Again, this was one of the rides that paled in comparison to the Disneyland version. We think it is because of the corporate sponsorship of the rides - The cars were still a hoot to drive, but the attraction itself was in need of a face lift.

The skies were turning gray as we headed into Fantasyland. My sister and I left my husband with the stroller and made our way onto the Carousel as the skies opened in a torrential downpour.

Everyone but my husband. With no sign of him anywhere, I made several laps in the driving rain. Finally, he noticed me wandering around and we made our soggy way back to Philharmagic, just in time for the next showing.

We dripped our way into the theatre. As the doors opened, and people were instructed to move all the way down their rows, a man sat down, smack-dab in the middle of the arena. He refused to budge, and the large family behind him took issue with it. He refused to move. The matriarch of the family behind him took matters into thier own hands, and we had a full on smackdown in Philharmagic. Woo! Fight fight fight! After they removed the disagreeing parties, they started the show. Everyone in the family enjoyed it, a first for my finicky gang.

We ducked into a little restaurant for some chili and sandwiches, and headed to the Haunted House. The kids liked the creepy details, but still, I felt like the atmosphere was lacking compared to the Haunted House in Disneyland.

Since Pirates was closed for refurbishing, we continued on to Frontierland. Thankfully, the skies began to clear, and our soggy clothes began to dry out. My sister and I took my oldest on Splash Mountain. This was my first time ever - what a great ride! A quick jolting ride on Thunder Mountain Railroad, and we made our way toward the park entrance, as my son was weepy, and my three-year-old was sawing logs in the stroller.

We stopped to climb the Swiss Family Robinson's Tree and to catch the tail end of Cinderellabration as we left the park for the day. We figured the skies would clear by the next day, and we could plan our day accordingly.

a quickr pickr post

*newscaster* - Tropical Storm Alberto is heading towards Florida! Oh wait, no! It's now Hurricane Alberto! Expect some wild, wet weather over the next five days.

Duh duh dun.

<__trans phrase="Posted by [_1] on [_2]" params="Jenny%%June 27, 2006 9:20 PM"> | <__trans phrase="Permalink"> | <__trans phrase="Comments"> (6)

Where was I...

Ah yes, the arrival. We picked up the rental van and headed down the road to our accomodations. Moments after arriving at the lovely 6-bedroom home, we dropped our bags, and my dad and I headed out to score some groceries. The first shopping center we came to was home to a Winn Dixie supermarket.

Hoo-wheeee! I had way, way too much fun grocery shopping. I went up and down the aisle, picking things up, putting them down, squinting at them. We don't have pickled eggs or pig's feet in our produce section here in Northern California. It was almost as weird as shopping in Japan. I mean weird as in exotic. Not bad weird. Lordy, no.

Finally, armed with food and beverages, my dad and I headed home to prepare a barbecue dinner on the lovely terrace. We ate and swam and ate. I know that is just breaking ALL the rules. We're rebellious like that. Or we were sort of tipsy. After swimming and eating and so on, we finally convinced the kids that bedtime needed to happen. After getting them all tucked in bed, all the grownups quickly followed suit, and slept like rocks.

Saturday was our first full day in Orlando. My parents and sister got up early, and decided to visit Epcot Center together. The hubs and I had just come off of a few insane weeks, and we opted to stay at the house with the kids, swimming and lounging. We kicked back, and splashed around in the pool for hours, stopping only for a quick meal or a break on a lounge chair.

The kids had a fantastic time making up games in the pool. My youngest refused to allow anyone to swim in front of her. She was the leader. LEADER. The. Leader. Hear her roar. My oldest daughter used her imagination as she paddled around the pool. She asked me "What if the filter got burned out? And then we had to order a new one, so we ordered one online, and the Internet mermaids delivered it so fast, because online shopping is super fast, and they installed it in 24 hours?" What if, indeed.

My son flipped around in the shallow end, repeatedly being accosted by the giant inflatable alligator. He lamented the fact that he couldn't manage to avoid the alligator, and he sighed while informing me that "at least he still has his personality." Thank heavens for that.

After a relaxing, sun-drenched day, we felt recharged enough to attack a theme park the next morning. We set our sights on The Magic Kingdom, baby.

<__trans phrase="Posted by [_1] on [_2]" params="Jenny%%June 26, 2006 1:15 PM"> | <__trans phrase="Permalink"> | <__trans phrase="Comments"> (9)

June 8th was the last day of school this year. Way back at the beginning of the school year, we thought that flying off on vacation after the final bell rang would be a triumph. Truly, a fitting way to end the year. Then I remembered my husband would be out of town for the week.

*screeeeech*

All things considered, I managed to accomplish my giant list of things to do before we left, despite spending hours and hours at the school, participating in field days and special events. I even squeezed in a jog that morning, before rushing home to figure out how to stuff enough belongings for five people into two small suitcases. (Hint: you can't.)

Feeling rather giddy, we finally loaded ourselves into the van and headed to the meet-up point with my parents and sister. After an uneventful trip to the airport, we did the auto check-in thing and waited to board our redeye flight.

I had all three kids dressed in flannel pajamas, which was super cute, if I do say so myself. I don't know what it is about air travel, but I can enter an airport looking gorgeous, and five minutes later, I look like a wet, mangey dog. Between my parents, my sister and myself, we managed to corral the kids and board the plane in a fairly peaceful manner. Big thanks go to Delta Airlines, for being family friendly - unlike United Airlines, who hates families.

I said we boarded fine. The whole figuring out where to sit business was a little more, uh, disorganized. We jostled and sat, only to check our tickets and stand and jostle some more. Finally, we determined what block of seats were ours, and collapsed in them. And then we noticed that my two oldest were sitting together. With no adult. Um, no.

This is why it is a Good Thing to preboard families. It took us ten minutes of hokey pokey just to sit in our assigned seats.

Anyway. The flight to Atlanta was uneventful. We arrived in Atlanta at 5 am, changed the kids into new outfits, and proceeded to the boarding gate for our second flight. Hello, little TVs on the back of each seat! Where have you been all my life? That one hour flight was super easy.

On arrival in Orlando, we gathered our mountain of baggage. I scolded my own mother for teaching my son to ride on the baggage belt, which shows you how little sleep I got on the flights. How many times have I contemplated that exact thing, and yet I was all uptight about it. Safety first and all that. Pshaw. Sorry, Mom! We lurched our way over to the rental car counters. Of the 700 rental agencies, we booked the one that you have to take a shuttle across town for. Rock!

We got the cars, and then sent my parents on their way to the house, while my sister and I kept the kids happy and waitied for my husband's flight to arrive. Everyone was a leeetle bit cranky at this point. Luckily, the hubs arrived a few short minutes later, and we were on our way.

<__trans phrase="Posted by [_1] on [_2]" params="Jenny%%June 26, 2006 5:14 AM"> | <__trans phrase="Permalink"> | <__trans phrase="Comments"> (2)

It's not a secret that I adore Mir. She's smart, funny, pretty, and writes circles around me. I hate her for all of these same reasons, because it is totally unfair that she should be all of these things. And she sings. And bakes. And and and.

Earlier this year, she announced that she was training/fundraising to participate in the Susan G. Komen Boston Three-Day. She's raised five thousand dollars so far - and she's still fundraising, this time for her training partner. See, who couldn't love this woman?

But then, you know what she did? She went and launched a new website. Want Not is Mir's roundup of great deals and smart shopping strategies to get the most from your money. Want Not is proving addictive, and Mir's enthusiasm for a bargin is not unlike a big game hunter with a coveted animal in her sights. She loves a bargin. Loves. And readers get sucked in with all that enthusiasm for safari-deals. Don't miss this one! Shop now! Free! Go! Go!

See, again, the love. But the hate, also, because I am determined to cut back my spending drastically, and reclaim my budget. Just today, Mir gives fabulous advice on great bedding deals. I love sheets! I could totally buy new sheets! Look at these deals! And yet, I do not need new sheets. Oh, sheet. Sheet, sheet, sheet.

I do not need them. But you might! Or, you know, you might need one of the other wonderful deals that Mir shares with her (weak-willed, internet-shopping-addicted) readers who love a bargin as much as their children. More! Sometimes, certain readers love a bargin MORE than their children. Go forth, and discover. You'll hate love Want Not.

<__trans phrase="Posted by [_1] on [_2]" params="Jenny%%June 23, 2006 9:35 AM"> | <__trans phrase="Permalink"> | <__trans phrase="Comments"> (3)

at: 3:53 pm PDT Currently: 101°

So says Yahoo. My thermostat says it's 89 degrees in my house.

We've got the wading pool filled up, and we've eaten a zillion popsicles. I'm supposed to be productive today. But it's hot, and we don't have air conditioning and even worse, I have a scab on my knee. How in the heck am I supposed to be getting anything done with a scab? I mean, I keep poking at it. That's what I'm doing today. Lifeguarding at the wading pool, and musing on my scab.

Time for another popsicle, I think.

<__trans phrase="Posted by [_1] on [_2]" params="Jenny%%June 22, 2006 4:15 PM"> | <__trans phrase="Permalink"> | <__trans phrase="Comments"> (7)

You know how hard it is to gather your thoughts for a week or so after vacation? Or is that just me? Hmm.

Well, in any case, I'm working on a giant, multi-entry bonanza of trippy recapness, and you will love it. Oh yes. But until then, let me just wish you all a Happy First Day of Summer and pass you a squirt gun, so that you might shoot me between the eyes.

Today dawned hot. Like, those days where you know you're looking at triple digits. And sure enough, the mercury hit 101 degrees as I stood outside the big barn, waiting for my kids to have their riding lessons. Lucky for me, I was all cute in one of my new Athleta outfits, but still. Hot! Sweaty! Red faced!

The kids were sweating on Buddy, one of the latest horses to arrive at the stable, and I kept my youngest occupied by mooning over some four-day-old baby goats. Man, they are adorable. Not only were there baby goats, but there were baby kittens. And a chihuahua. And a new pony. And the whole barn full of horses and ponies. And a soda machine.

Guess what was the highlight? Best 75 cents I ever spent, man.

The kids are really coming along with the riding, unlike their mother, who is still rather dorky on horseback. I mean, they can trot without having a death grip on the horse's mane. They don't make whooping noises of surprise whenever the horse starts or stops. I think I'm cut out for comic relief, rather than horse shows. Alas. I've still got my pluck and my suspicious nature, so I think I could still ride out with the BWG.

My battered knee is healing up, and I'm going to be starting up with my running/walking program again, hopefully tomorrow. I can't tell you how stupid it is to start a vigorous exercise program in summertime. Especially when you sweat and get red-faced and end up breathing like Darth Vader.

However, drastic measures are needed, because BlogHer looms large, and people, they booked it at a hotel with a pool. Lawdy. I'm having little panic spasms about it already.

My youngest has the little disposable camera that my parents used at one of the parks, and she's demanding that I look at her and smile. I obliged once, and then turned back to type, and she just hollered "Mama, yo back don't smile."

No, it doesn't, but my shoulders were shaking as I tried to supress a guffaw. I think we can papparazzi to her future career options.

<__trans phrase="Posted by [_1] on [_2]" params="Jenny%%June 21, 2006 6:28 PM"> | <__trans phrase="Permalink"> | <__trans phrase="Comments"> (5)

It's my first Monday as a woman in possession of three children on summer break. I might not make it until Tuesday.

I've planned: Complete cleaning, top to bottom, of my entire home and yard.
Reality: Turning the hose repeatedly on the kids to clean off popsicle juice.

I've planned: Fun, festive picnics at the park.
Reality: The kids are eating the food directly out of the grocery bags as I attempt to put it into the cupboards. There will be no food for the picnic.

I've planned: Inflating our giant wading pool and parking poolside with a slushy fruit drink.
Reality: Well, here's the pump, but the hose is missing. Oh wait. Here's the hose, but it belongs to a different pump. Where's the nozzle? Screw this. Turn on the hose and spray kids again.

I've got a whole slew of ideas for the long, empty weeks ahead. I was chatting with the very funny HG this morning about our Fat Fallacy diet progress, our broods and their tendencies to go all Lord of the Flies when left alone for a few minutes.

HG: Heh - it's a shame you live across the country. We could eat in a civilized manner while turning all of our kids into the back yard and then watching them duke it out Lord of the Flies manner. Riight. Sorry kids, stop picking at your food. Right

Jenny: Hahaha. Its Lord of the Flies in my living room, right this minute. I have the conch! No, I have the conch! Mine! My conch!

moments later...

Jenny: Hee! Shoot, I think the kids just threw Piggy off the cliff. I better get in there and break it up. MY CONCH!

You know, it's all fun and games until one of the little power-hungry savages slays one of the other savages. Yes, it seems my idealistic summer plans are better executed by an organized, motivated person. I'm rapidly changing my goals to seeing how often I can spray the kids with the hose and devising a point-system for direct hits vs. limb hits.

<__trans phrase="Posted by [_1] on [_2]" params="Jenny%%June 19, 2006 11:13 AM"> | <__trans phrase="Permalink"> | <__trans phrase="Comments"> (9)

If you haven't been by Mommybloggers.com - you have to run over there and check it out. We're featuring essays by some of the wonderful, talented fathers of the 'net in honor of Father's Day. You don't want to miss it!

(Also, this is the last day of vacation, and I know I said I would be live blogging, so I'm a liar, but oh, just wait until I unleash these vacation recaps. Hoooo-wheee!

Now, go to Mommybloggers, and give our guests some sugar.

<__trans phrase="Posted by [_1] on [_2]" params="Jenny%%June 16, 2006 6:23 AM"> | <__trans phrase="Permalink"> | <__trans phrase="Comments"> (1)

Well, hello! I've arrived! Orlando is lovely. Orlando Bloom is lovely, you're right, but I'm actually talking about Orlando, Florida. I'm on a crappy dial-up connection, and even that is lovely. Can you tell I'm drinking a beer and it's like 2 o'clock in the afternoon and I smell like chlorine and tortilla chips?

I needed a vacation in a bad way, and look at me! I'm vacationing! Whee! I've got a few play-by-play entries over at Big Slice - go read my account of wrestling with an alligator and all about our flight!

I'm also happy to report that both of my children survived an entire school year and will be moving on up - HOLY MOLY. I am the parent of a first grader, a second grader and a soon-to-be preschooler. I might actually have a linear thought someday, uninterrupted by the need for a juice box or a new diaper. Can you smell that? The sweet smell of freedom? For at least a few hours a week?

We're headed to The Happiest Mofo Place on Earth tomorrow, or at least one of the Kingdoms of Happy. Any recommendations of things we must do and see while we are here?

This connection makes my gmail load unbearably slow. I'll be answering emails when and if I get to a higher-speed connection.

Stay tuned for The Lauck Vacation Excitement and Photo Extravaganza.

<__trans phrase="Posted by [_1] on [_2]" params="Jenny%%June 10, 2006 11:16 AM"> | <__trans phrase="Permalink"> | <__trans phrase="Comments"> (11)

Remember a few weeks back when I was all "Oh! This is the busiest I've ever been! I don't know how I'll survive! This pace, it is killing me! I'm dead. Boo hoo."

Yeah. No.

THIS is the busiest, most insane week in the history of Jenny. I sat down this morning and wrote out an incomplete list of things I need to do before we leave on our trip, and let me just say that I started getting hives when the list hit 40 items and I'm looking at about 28 hours before I get in the car, no turning back.

Gas! I need to fill the tank, too! Crap! 41 things to do! And none of them are blogging! You know what vacations mean around Three Kid Circus - vacation recap posts. You guys are in for it now. And I'll have internet access for the first time ever on vacation, so you are going to be getting a play by play. WOOOOO!

Now, excuse me while I go run in circles, flapping and laller laller lallering for the next day, and hopefully check off some of this super-important stuff offa mah list. Because DAMN.

<__trans phrase="Posted by [_1] on [_2]" params="Jenny%%June 7, 2006 12:21 PM"> | <__trans phrase="Permalink"> | <__trans phrase="Comments"> (11)

Today, I packed the kids off to school, and my three-year-old and I picked up my sister for a little adventure to the Athleta Warehouse Sale.

That is some seriously crazy shopping, right there. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

Let's ignore the fact that I'm not exactly an athlete. I needed some summery things for our vacation. Oh! Did I not mention? We are taking the kids to Orlando, Florida. In a week. More on that later.

When we pulled into the parking lot, it was already crowded with cars, and the entrances to the building were thrown open. A flood of grim-faced women stalked towards the doors. To my left, a woman briefly jogged in place, and then cracked her neck. To my right, a woman pulled out three giant tote bags, and squared her shoulders. I clutched my toddler closer, and accepted a plastic garbage bag from the man at the door.

Once into the auditorium, it became clear that this was war.

Rows of banquet tables were stacked three feet high with piles of clothes, broken into pants, tops, etc with a small aisle between each. They were grouped roughly by size, but after that, you were on your own. My sister and I stood wide-eyed as two women pushed past us, pulling their hair into ponytails and pushing up their sleeves, an empty garbage bag dangling from each wrist.

A glance at the posted signs that listed prices starting at $5 - well! Game on! I held my toddler on one hip, and dived into the first table of pants. I grabbed, investigated, eliminated. I stuffed things into my bag. With my three-year-old demanding "DOWN!" I put her on the floor where she clung to my leg. I kept moving, eyes darting from table to table. All around me, women were kung-fu fighting over camisoles and fleece jackets. The shoes were around the edge of the room, and I saw several women tumble in their quest to see if that box back there, way in the back, contained a pair of shoes that weren't a size 11 pair of UGG scuffs.

Two tables over in the XS Pants $7 section, my sister was battling for a pair of running tights. I didn't see it, but she assures me that she used some slight of hand and a healthy dose of attitude to secure the pants she bought. Over in the corner of the room, I wedged my daughter between my knees and recruited the fifteen other women digging through the same boxes of swim seperates to keep their eyes open for a skirted bottom. Even with all those eyes, we came up dry. (Sorry, Mir!)

Skort Battle was settled quickly, as I raced down the table and grabbed one of everything in my size. Quick and decisive - apparently warehouse sales are not for the timid. When my three year old collapsed in a wailing heap under the bra rack, I knew it was time to make a hasty retreat. I was dripping sweat, clutching a garbage bag and dragging a howling toddler toward the finish line, while my sister continued to fight the good fight for a pair of shoes and a windbreaker.

A mere hour after we parked the van and joined the seething, sweating, kung-fu shopping, that's-SO-not-your-color, oh-honey-I-think-those-pants-wouldn't-fit-you-why-don't-you-hand-them-to-me masses, we made our way out into the fresh air and sunlight, shell-shocked and blinking in the glare. We scored some great deals on some great clothes. I sort of want to go back and see if there's anything I missed. It is the competitive wench in me.

See, and I said I wasn't an athlete. I think I have all the makings of a Warehouse Sale Pro.

<__trans phrase="Posted by [_1] on [_2]" params="Jenny%%June 2, 2006 12:48 PM"> | <__trans phrase="Permalink"> | <__trans phrase="Comments"> (10)