We’re down in sunny Florida, escaping the bitter cold and canceled school days back home. It’s a trip that’s been penciled in for months, with much more planning than is our norm.
This was to be our second year traveling to Sarasota with our close friends, Travis and Katie Roach, and their girls. Our plans differed slightly this year, firstly, because we added on more days — sunshine evaporates days faster than water, and secondly, the last half of the trip was to be spent … at Disney.
The Roach girls hadn’t been before. When asked if we’d be interested in joining, the opportunity to go with friends made our answer an instant yes.
Enter contacting our Disney travel agent friends (shoutout to Alyson), confirming magic bands (did you know you can reuse them from past years?), securing fast passes, making meal reservations, and, perhaps most important of all, ordering matching t-shirts. Duh.
But, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, there’s been a lot of past tense verbs up to this point, for good reason.
10 days ago the Roach’s household got hit with Influenza B. As in legit, bona fide flu, as confirmed by a doc’s super official test.
The super official treatment? Go home and stay there, cause unlike Animal Kingdom’s Avatar, it’s gonna be a miserable ride. (Okay fine, there was a little Tamiflu in the treatment mix too.)
It seems to me the more members in a family, the more days it takes for illness to run its course. It stops to stay with every single person along the way, because the flu is the most equal-opportunist, thoughtful entity you never did want.
The hope: Roaches will cancel the Sarasota leg of the trip and get well enough to board an Orlando-bound plane come Sunday. We’ll meet them in Orlando Monday.
The reality: their family of five reached hotter degrees for longer stretches than even Florida can currently tout.
Fun fact: Using a Disney travel agent is good for planning and canceling a visit.
It’s obviously a less-than-ideal scenario when a trip that you’ve been looking forward to with people you adore unravels faster than you can spell sneeze.
This is a type-a, super planner’s nightmare. When your perfectly picked, matching, ultra-soft cotton-blend plans fall through, what’s one to do?
Adapt of course.
There’s that old adage that man plans and God laughs.
Nah. Plans are what get you off the couch and out the door. Plans propel you to action. Then, once you’re up and moving and plans change? Adapt. Don’t get all pissed and woe-is-me and whiney. That’s such a waste of time and energy.
In my case, I’m still in Florida getting tons of beach time and maintaining zero schedule while back home has seen temps colder than your deep freeze. So what do I have to complain about? A little bit of a sunburn is all *winks obnoxiously*.
Here’s the rub: I’ve seen adults get more upset over having plans fall through, over losing control that was never their’s to begin with, over not getting their way than telling a child they’re no longer going to Disney.
The real problem isn’t change — it’s meeting change with rigidity.
When plans change, change with them.
Identify what you have control over and what you don’t. In this case, I don’t have control over influenza, but I can control my response to its influence.
When Roaches canceled Disney, so did we. We were excited for the experience because we’d have shared it with friends. Take the friends away, and, well…I’ve found there are happier places on earth.
For instance, Muscato’s little sister and her three kids happen to be in Sarasota currently. Their trip was scheduled after ours, thank goodness. The overlap, plus our recent extension, means extra family time. That’s a pleasant bonus for us all.
We’ll still drive back to Orlando, because that’s where we’re flying out of to return home. Instead of driving straight to the airport, we’ll stay one night (not three, and on a Disney property = savings) at a hotel we stayed at once years ago — and loved.
It has great amenities and is close to attractions we’ve visited in years past and, up until a couple of days ago, had only hoped to revisit.
Plans changed. We adapted.
Sure, disappointment has been in the mix. If we all had our druthers, the guys would be on a golf course by 7 a.m. Katie and I would be loading up the 4 kids to drive to Disney shortly after breakfast. But disappointment is only allowed up to the entrance gates; it doesn’t pass security to make it inside.
Life isn’t about how well you control it; it’s about how well you live it. Regardless of circumstances.
As for our Disney t-shirts? One set so aptly says, “Let’s Do This.” On what would have been Disney Eve, my little family of three put them to good use by turning disappointment into a splashing good opportunity. *winks obnoxiously again*
It’s been a full, fun trip thus far. I nuzzled Miller’s cheek after tucking him in last night. It was hot…more intense than the heat that comes from being freshly sun-kissed. The thermometer revealed a fever, which was followed up with Tylenol. We’re keeping an eye on that boy.
I see you life. I see your curve balls and unexpecteds. And to that I say?
Let’s do this.