Disney Nannying: The Fourth Day


Our fourth day, Thursday, was Epcot day. We piled all the ever-bickering kids into a ferry from the Boardwalk, and were deposited into the UK rather than coming in straight by the large Epcot golf ball. I’m sure it has a real name, but I’m not going to look it up.

I became very excited when I saw that Mary Poppins makes appearances in UK Epcot, but strangely no one else was very enthused about meeting the legendary nanny, so we moved on and I dragged my feet until I had to swoop in and stop one of the older boys from turning one of the others into a punching bag.

I’ll meet you someday, Mary Poppins.


We didn’t really have Fast Passes for much that day, except for the fireworks show at the end, but Mr. Parent apparently had a good idea of where we were going and directed us accordingly towards “The Land.” I had never been to Epcot (does Disneyland have an Epcot equivalent? I can’t remember), so I followed blindly in The Family’s wake.

Look! Hot air balloons! That is all.

We attempted to stand in line for Soarin’ Around the World, which is a hang-gliding simulator that apparently everybody in Epcot is trying to experience at once, but we gave up when it was agreed that Mrs. Parent and at least two boys would throw up on the ride due to motion sickness. Instead, we made for the decidedly less busy “Living with the Land” ride, which is a gentle boat ride through sets of the earth and a real greenhouse.


It featured this scene, which made me feel like I was on the set of a episode of Star Trek: The Original Series. All alien planets look like this.

What we did have a Fast Pass for was a Finding Nemo ride I cannot quite recall the name of, and it was generally all right. I was quite ambivalent to it, which must have been how the entirety of The Family was feeling for most of the vacation.

It did have some really neat fake jellyfish in it, which I found nifty because some (real) jellyfish were one of the first things I ever photographed, when I was around the same age as the children I take care of now. I love my jellyfish.


The end of the ride left us in the aquarium I did not know Epcot had, much to my delight. I love aquariums and I could have spent all day there. Except for, you know, the job.

Instead, we moved the bickering party to lunch, and then to the grand Walt Disney golf ball.

Look how tiny the people are!

The inside of the golf ball is a ride that takes you through history, from Neanderthals to the Modern Day (of 1960-something). When you first get into your car you are presented with a little touch screen that prompts you to select your language. Figuring it would display subtitles in French, I so intelligently thought to select that despite my only passing knowledge of the language.

Naturally, the entire tour was given to me in French and I have essentially no idea what was being said. I choose to believe it let me enjoy the visuals more.

It left me more time to be the obnoxious person taking pictures with their phone on the ride.


My favorite time, right here.


Ah, here we are in the Modern Age of science and mini-skirts.

At the end of the ride, the screen before you lights up again and lets you “choose your future” out of a number of options on the screen. What you select combines at the end to give you your simulated Jetsons-style future. I knew just enough French to select the things I wanted most out of life.


These things were a treehouse. I also had a garden somewhere. I guess it was on the ground, away from the trees. This seems impractical.


The likeness is uncanny.

Epcot really is a beautiful testament to what humanity has done. (The ambitious, motivated people at any rate. Strangely, they make no time for my kind, the lazy sloths of the world.)

After this, we dragged the already exhausted children back to the hotel for a bath and to put them in long sleeves, and then took them out again because no one really needs sleep to experience the 9:00 Epcot fireworks and light show.

I took no pictures of this. There was no point, really. You can find better pictures online, and it wouldn’t have translated well anyway. I rarely get swept up in things, but this was utterly, wonderfully spectacular. After an inspiriational Epcot day, nothing made me feel more like I could get out and do anything than finishing it off with a light show of such magnitude. (Naturally, this motivation faded the moment I realized I had to get several extremely over-tired children back to the hotel.)

Thoroughly exhausted myself, when we were back on hotel property I extracted myself from The Family (after 10:00 PM I usually feel I can excuse myself from nannying by way of looking as though I might faint), and wandered around the Boardwalk for a little while in an attempt to regain a little sanity.

As I wandered through the gift shop, a doll caught my eye.


For those of you who don’t know (hi Mom and Dad), this is Anna from the movie Frozen. I’m not a terribly big fan of Frozen. It’s a good movie, sure. I’ve seen it a couple times. The only thing that ever really stuck with me, however, is that Anna has natural red hair and blue eyes, and in having those she looks the most like me out of all the Disney princesses.

Of course, Frozen came out long after the age where I could have properly enjoyed this. When I was little, I desperately wanted a doll that looked like me, because I was Every Little Girl Ever. I found a redheaded Barbie in a thrift store once and I treasured that thing for years.

So I sat in the gift shop, staring at this doll. I wandered around a few times, but every time I just came back to looking at the doll again. And eventually, because I have no impulse control, and because I have been taking care of three to six boys for a full year now and never have reason to buy anything girly, I bought the doll.


Seven year old me is ecstatic right now. So is 20 year old me, I admit it.

Even as I write this now, Anne is perched on the empty side of my bed, probably wondering in Toy Story fashion why this crazy woman bought her only to hold her reverently from time to time. But I don’t care. I have a redheaded, blue-eyed, freckled and flushed pale-skinned doll, by Jove.

There’s that Disney magic again.

Disney Nannying: The Third Day

Wednesday was our “vacation from vacation,” in which we didn’t attend any parks. Instead, we spent time on the boardwalk, swam in the pool, and the kids had more fun than at any other point in the vacation.


To be fair, the Boardwalk is spectacular. Lined with shops, restaurants, and clubs, it’s open all hours of the day and far into the night. Every evening you can walk by a number of interesting street shows along the lines of magic tricks and juggling. It really hit the perfect line between child-friendly and adult.

It was at this point that the kids saw the multiple-person “bicycles” for rent. Costing a mere $24 per half hour, these strange contraptions allowed the whole (normal-sized) family to squeeze in and circle the entire boardwalk.

Amazingly, they allowed all six to nine of us to squeeze onto the device. I had hoped I would be excused from this family event, but they needed someone else who could reach the pedals, and since I (sadly) made the height requirement by two inches, I was instructed to come along.


Florida is actually quite nice in November, but only when it’s cloudy and not humid and you don’t have to live there.

It was not quite as bad as I had feared, although there was a colossal spat about who got to ring the bell, which resulted in us careening down the boardwalk, frantically ringing the bell at each and every passerby to warn them that The Family was there and that we couldn’t slow down because we were too busy trying to separate some squabbling octopuses.

After this ordeal we were all hot and sticky, so we changed and made our way down to the pool. This pool, I should note, was pretty spectacular. It was massive. There was a bar. There was a hot tub. There was a kiddie pool with an attached playground. There was an elaborate twisting water slide.


Naturally, the only picture I took of it was of this lizard, who was admittedly very cute.

We spent all afternoon in the pool. I introduced the younger boys (not yet good swimmers) to the idea of a hot tub, which became their new favorite invention and from which they had to be coaxed regularly so they did not overheat. The older boys, meanwhile, went down the water slide approximately eighty times.

After a few hours of this, everyone was given baths and dressed in nice shirts and slacks, because we had a reservation at “Flying Fish” on the boardwalk. It turns out Flying Fish is far, far fancier than it sounds.


But still fish-themed. These are the chandeliers.

I tried not to take too many pictures; it seemed inappropriate given the circumstances. Fortunately, I didn’t have the opportunity to be tempted to do so, as I immediately went into damage-control mode. I sat with a few of the boys on my end of the table, and devoted everything I had to keeping them seated, facing forwards, not fighting, not yelling, not playing with the wine glasses. We played an outrageous number of games of “I Spy”.

When we were given the menus I sorted out what they wanted first (fish and chips. All of them) before I picked up the menu for myself and realized I was thoroughly out of my depth.

I’m still convinced most of the dish names were in some strange medly of Italian and French, and therefor completely unpronounceable. The descriptions were cryptic at best, promising things like “ancient grains”, “Mascarpone-laced Risotto di Carnaroli with Prosciutto di Parma Cracklins“, and “Red Wine-Cassis Butter Reduction“. In the end, I chose the cheapest dish I could find ($37). It had “salmon” in the name, which I was reasonable sure I could pronounce.

When it arrived, the entire dish was the size of my palm and had some strange pea-sized orange orbs sitting on the top. I surmised that these were a new type of caviar, as when you ate them they burst in your mouth with a sudden fishy taste.

I scraped them off and hid them under the sauce, and thought about the fact that I could be eating 37 McChickens for that price.

The desert menu’s tea featured aromas, palates, AND notes, a sure sign that this place was too classy for me.

I put all of my nanny school training into eating dinner correctly, foggily recalling my 800 page etiquette book and the extensive chapters on dining, but I needn’t have bothered because absolutely no one else in the restaurant was bothering to do the same.

I ordered the only desert that sounded human, and it was… well, it was a fancy restaurant desert.


No wonder the service in this place was so slow.

All things considered, it really was a good thing that the portion sizes were so small, because I could have eaten eight of whatever strange, chocolatey thing they gave me.

Two hours and seven trips to the bathroom later, The Family and I stumbled back to our rooms, thoroughly exhausted by our vacation from vacation. After a while of listening to the chaos in the room next to me, I went for a walk on the Boardwalk by myself. It’s really not so bad when you can choose where to go and what to do on your own.


Disney Nannying: The Second Day

The second day was improved because everyone managed to sleep in until at least 5:30 AM, and because Mrs. Parent found a Starbucks sneakily hidden away behind an antique facade in the park.


The view from my hotel room at 5:30 in the morning. I guess the lights never turn off.

Right out of the gate we had a Fast Pass for the Jungle Cruise, which the oldest boy swore he would hate and insisted on berating it and snipping at his brother for the majority of the small Fast Pass wait. A great deal of my job at Disney was merely standing between boys to prevent fighting and to try and avoid making everyone else in line as unhappy as we appear to be.

So we went on the Jungle Cruise, and absolutely none of my pictures turned out because my terribly expensive phone cannot take a good picture whilst moving five miles an hour down a river, but that’s all right. The eldest boy secretly enjoyed himself, despite vehemently and preemptively denying it the second his feet his solid ground again.

While we waited for our next Fast Pass time slot (which is, we were coming to realize, the only way you will ever see the inside of most rides during Jersey Week), we ran briefly through the Swiss Family Treehouse, which was very nice and which the boys were largely uninterested in because it was a book they had never heard of and there weren’t enough pirates or roller coasters involved.


I thought it was neat. Look at this! This whole massive tree is completely fake! How cool is that?!


Maybe Disney could hire me to live in this place full time and act the part. They wouldn’t have to pay me. Just pass some food through the door occasionally and I’ll play you some tidbits on the organ.

The Pirates of the Caribbean ride they did appreciate, but once again they failed to drag us on it fifteen times like I did my poor grandfather in 2007, so we got out of there pretty early too. As The Family started to amble away from Adventureland, Captain Jack Sparrow’s Pirate Tutorial started up behind us, and I all but begged to stay and watch at least part of it.


Because it’s Captain Jack Sparrow.

I did a lot of begging at Disney World, primarily because I was the only one really enthused to be there. I tried not to take up a lot of The Family’s time, but I couldn’t resist snapping distant pictures of princesses whenever we passed one.


Look guys, it’s her! It’s Merida! It’s- guys?

Back in 2007, we went on nearly all of the major rides, but the one thing I was looking forward to the most was The Haunted Mansion. For years my darling mother had mentioned how spectacular it was, how enchanted the waltzing ghosts were, how fascinating all the illusions had been. I was a Halloweenie. I was so excited.

Naturally, The Haunted Mansion was closed until October when we arrived. Young Jean probably gave her grandparents a hard time about that. Sorry, Grandma and Grandpa.

So while we were here, I pulled a few of the older boys aside, got down on their level, and made them a deal. “I will stand in line with you for Space Mountain if you will go on The Haunted Mansion with me,” I whispered.


I’m surprised this picture isn’t blurry because I was nearly vibrating with excitement.

They were thrilled at the prospect of Space Mountain again. I was thrilled to finally go on The Haunted Mansion. The parents were accepting. While Mr. and Mrs. Parent took the younger boys off to the Aladdin ride, I ran off with the older boys and bribed them with my phone games to stand in line for forty minutes.


“Guys! Guys! Look at the hearse! Look at the spooky horse frame! Isn’t this cool?!” “Okay.”

I’m not going to describe in detail what happens in the ride (mostly because pictures are impossible to take in there), but it hit me about midway through the ride that this is what I always thought amusement parks should be. Every time I entered another unsatisfying “haunted house” ride or grimaced at the peeling paint on a scuffy spinning teacups attraction, I was picturing something more put together and impressive.

Turns out that’s Walt Disney World- who knew, right?

The Haunted Mansion was thoroughly satisfying. The boys decided it was their second favorite ride, because they enjoyed being able to loudly proclaim how unscary it was. Everyone was happy for a blessed twelve minutes before the vacation stress set in again.

As it grew dark, Mrs. Parent went off to do some shopping on Main Street and Mr. Parent and I waded through the crowds with the boys to find a place to sit.


Good luck trying to get a better picture than this after the parade has just ended (which we missed anyway).

And as we sat outside a little hat shop and the boys had more fun with a provided checkers set than they had had in the rest of the day combined, I sat and watched the crowds grow thinner. The funny thing is, the later it gets in Disney World, the older things feel. After a while of foggy staring, it started to feel like I was watching the 1960s moving around me.


And there was something very peaceful about that.

Disney magic really does exist, which is crazy. No one was joking or making it out to be more than it is. The more time I spent there, even working and surrounded by people who never fully relax, the more I started to sound like an advertisement for the place. I would call my parents up, rant about my day a little, and then finish with, “But Disney World really is enchanting.”

It really is.

Disney Nannying: The First Day

If you’ve never experienced waking up at 3:30 to wrangle three to six boys into a two hour car ride to an airport that will take you another two hours to a bus ride that will take you a half an hour to another bus that will then take you to Disney’s The Magic Kingdom (only half an hour back in the direction you started from, effectively canceling the first bus ride), I advise you never to try it. Instead, experience Disney World as it was meant to be experienced, via your own private helicopter.

But lacking a private helicopter, on Monday I wrangled three to six boys (and two parents, for a total party of six to nine people) into Disney World the old fashioned way.


Very bland picture snapped over the head of a child on the bus from the airport to the resort. I was mostly interested in the palm trees. Palm trees!

I’d never been to Disney World. I’d been to Disneyland back in 2007, and I don’t remember much of it besides dragging my poor grandfather on the Indiana Jones ride approximately thirty times. I was at an age where meeting characters was highly embarrassing, and I don’t recall much of my experience besides some admittedly nice snippets of pirates and jungles.

Pulling up to Disney’s Boardwalk Resort was a surprise. I was going into this place blind. Not only did I know little about the park itself, but I had no idea where we were staying.


Hey, this place is pretty nice.


…Hey, this place is REALLY nice.

Stepping into the Boardwalk hotel was everything I expected of a place for rich people to stay. I went back and forth in my head for quite a while about how ritzy it really was. Did it just look ritzy because it was Disney and Disney has high standards? Or was this actually where the elite stayed? The rooms themselves were not overly remarkable, but the hotel and its surroundings were magnificent.


It had multiple chandeliers in the front lobby. It really only takes one chandelier for a place to be out of my league.

I thought about this for a very long time before I remembered I had a smart phone and looked it up. ~$500 a room per night. Two rooms for the employer/nanny party (they all packed into one and let me have my own). Five nights. (For those who can’t do math properly, this is around $178,000 for the total stay.)


It’s a lot fancier than the hotel I used to work at. For a start, this one leaves you chocolate. On your bed! CHOCOLATE! You can keep it and everything, and they bring you MORE.

At this point, it was back into the bus to head to The Magic Kingdom. The boys squabbled. The parents stressed. I was conflicted because I had at that point been working eight hours and it was barely noon, but on the other hand, Disney.

(I note here that people often think I’m younger than I am and I frequently get mistaken as the oldest child of The Family I work for. On the way through the gates, the cheerful Cast Member directed me to scan my Magic Band by way of saying “Over here please, Princess.” Guess what nickname will follow me for the rest of my life.)


After subjecting the poor security people to my endlessly deep nanny bag (I swear I don’t have a gun under all these Wet Ones), we shuffled through to the main entrance. While the whole family stopped to line up and pretend they were happy and relaxed for a Disney photographer, I got a quick picture of the clock on top of the train station.

It was at this point that I also realized I would never get an actually decent picture at Disney World, because I had no time to do anything but follow closely and herd children. All pictures seen here are the result of me holding up my phone and running sideways to stop a small boy from obliviously following the wrong family.


Also, this was “Jersey Week,” when the entire population of New Jersey and six or seven of their closest relations attend Disney World while school is out. There would never not be a crowd in my pictures.

It quickly became clear that none of us had any idea what we were doing, where we were going, or even what we would like to do. I say “we” here, but I was working so I had as much say in the matter as the next random stranger on the street. Vacations with the family can be slightly stressful due to the high pressure to relax.

(And the fourteen hour days.)

We had a few Fast Passes under our belt, but even then that didn’t give us much direction. After stopping to pick up some lunch, we blundered our way down various confusing streets and ended up at one of the places I clearly remember from my California experience.


Because you can never, ever forget it.

Predictably, the eldest boy hated it because it had dolls, and they were dancing, and they were singing, and they had dresses on, and it was girly. Hatred of everything would become a recurring theme on this trip.

To make up for dragging Grumpy through The Worst Most Embarrassing Ride Ever, we split our group by age and I accompanied Mr. Parent and the few older boys to Space Mountain, which fortunately did not feature dolls or girls.


We did not have a Fast Pass for this ride. This is mostly what I remember of it. There was about an hour and a half of this.

When you finally reach the end of the line in Space Mountain you’re loaded into a line of single-seat cars and shot off in the dark through a series of sharp twists, turns, and dips. It would have been more thrilling if I hadn’t been approaching a “working thirteen hours” headache, and I came away with the conclusion that it wasn’t really worth spending an hour and a half in line for.


Picture of the thrilling interior of Space Mountain.

Naturally, when we stepped off the cars the very first thing out of the boys’ mouths was “CAN WE GO AGAIN?!” as though waiting in line was not a real thing.

But by the time we got out, it was dark, and we had dinner reservations approaching, so we hustled out of Tomorrowland and headed back for the buses. We had managed a whole two rides that day, which was a rousing success with six to nine people to keep track of in Jersey Week.


But the thing was… even though I had been working sixteen hours at that point, even though the boys had not stopped squabbling once, even though this vacation (like many past vacations) only served to stress The Family out more… it was magical. Every bit of it. All the waiting in line and the crowds and the brief glimpses of princesses from afar. Seeing that ridiculous, lovely castle lit up under all the “snow” was outrageously beautiful.

Sure, it wasn’t my vacation. I was there to do a job, and nannying with the parents there is doubly difficult, and it was hot and tense and a little bit awful at times. But that first mangled half day was still strangely wonderful.

Leave it to Walt Disney World to make my day so conflicting.

A Nanny in Disney

I’m rarely political, but I woke up at 3:30 this morning and I strongly believe this should not be legal.

I now sit on an airplane with several antsy boys around me, and we are headed for the happiest place in the world. Or in Florida, at least.

Everyone I’ve talked to so far says I will love Disney World. While I’m certain Disney World is very appealing when visited for one’s own enjoyment, I can’t help but feel that it will be less so when I must stop three to six boys from physically assaulting Captain Hook.

Blogging may be less frequent for the next week, as it will be difficult to find time to type when you must stand in line for several hours a day to fight your way onto perhaps three rides.

Wish me luck.