We just got back from Disney—literally today. Now, let me preface this by saying, I’m not really a Disneyphile. The thought of battling crowds, enduring endless stimulation, sweating through 100-degree heat, and standing in long lines isn’t exactly my idea of a dream vacation. But hey, taking my family to Disney is a privilege, and I’m incredibly grateful for it. The chance to pack up our healthy kids, spend four days together, and create those unforgettable “memory burn” moments is something I don’t take lightly.

But let me tell you how this trip really started. We left early Monday morning at 7 AM. We had a gap week between the end of school and the start of summer camp, so I figured, why not? Let’s get away and make some memories.

The Unfolding Chaos

The trunk was packed to the gills. I even bought a stroller wagon because Ashton has hypotonia, and there was no way I was going to carry her around the parks in that sweltering heat. I packed enough food and snacks to feed a small army. We were all so excited, imagining we’d arrive before lunch and hit up Magic Kingdom right away. The girls had never been inside Cinderella’s Castle, and we had a reservation to dine there at 4 PM. It was a bit of an awkward time, but it was the only slot available when I booked it, and the girls were over the moon. They had their princess dresses, accessories, and everything else carefully selected and packed in a separate bag, ready to change into before their royal dinner. This had been the topic of conversation for months, and everyone was fired up.

And then real life happened. About an hour outside of Miami, Ashton started throwing up in her car seat.

We pulled over, cleaned her up, and I didn’t think too much of it. She’d already devoured Oreos, Pirate’s Booty, and three applesauce pouches at 7 AM, so I chalked it up to that.

But then, 30 minutes later, she did it again. I climbed into the backseat to clean her up. Her car seat was wet from my attempt to clean the mess, and she was crying because it was uncomfortable, and her blanket was covered in throw-up.

She rallied, though. She didn’t have a fever, wasn’t complaining about feeling sick—second-kid toughness at its finest.

When Expectations Meet Reality

We finally arrived at the hotel, parked, and took a shuttle to Magic Kingdom. We were in line for the first ride when Ashton told me she didn’t feel well and thought she might throw up again. Jeff took her out of line, and Amory and I stayed behind. I looked over at Ashton sitting on a bench, and her face was paper-white, her eyes were spacing out, and she looked like she was about to pass out. Amory and I left the line, found some shade, got her some water, and after about 20 minutes, she started to come back around. But at that point, Jeff and I were like, what do we do?

Here’s where I want to land today. I tell you all this because I know you’ve experienced something similar—some high hope, some expectation that just crashes and burns. And it’s frustrating, isn’t it?

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: the single greatest cause of human suffering is our attachment to how things “should” be. For me this week, it was how a day at Magic Kingdom should be. How Disney should be. How family time should be. How my kids should behave. How my husband should behave. How I should show up—all the “shoulds!” And they’ll make you miserable. And it’s not just Disney or family vacations; it’s life’s collective shoulds that cause us so much suffering. How my mom should have raised me. How my dad should have stuck around. How my ex should have treated me. How my own childhood should have been.

Resilience Over Calm

The minute we can reframe and understand that life is happening for us, not to us, everything changes. It doesn’t mean we don’t feel the pain. It doesn’t mean we bypass reality and just “stay positive.” What it means is that we lose attachment to what should be, so we can accept what is. And when we accept what is, we are resilient.

That’s the name of the game, friends. It’s not about being calm 24/7. That’s an unrealistic expectation—it’s an attachment that will cause you suffering. If you think a good mom is always calm, you will be severely disappointed with yourself. It’s not the goal because we are human beings raising and living with other human beings, doing hard things while experiencing the full range of human emotions—all of which are acceptable.

So, when everything was going wrong to start my trip, I wasn’t saying, “stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.” I’ve built enough resilience in my nervous system to experience the disappointment, sadness, frustration—whatever was coming up. And it all made sense, considering the circumstances, right? I didn’t try to shove them down or ignore them, but I also didn’t let them derail me. And that’s the goal with nervous system regulation. When we have healthy neurological fitness, we can experience life’s ups and downs without getting stuck there. Without being stuck in dysregulation.

So, yes, I was annoyed, sad, and frustrated—I was like, “ugh, this really sucks. I’m so disappointed—dang it.” And then I was like, “alright guys, let’s head out, explore our hotel, and maybe if Ashton’s feeling better, we can hit the pool or have a picnic outside when it cools down.”

I looked at Jeff and said, “alright, let’s bounce.” We left, went back to the hotel, and Ashton rallied. We went out for sushi and ice cream and had the best time together.

And that’s available for you too. So, let this be a reminder that we’re not shooting for calm 24/7—that’s not the goal. What we want is a resilient nervous system that can handle life’s stress, disappointments, frustrations—all of it—the full spectrum, and then have the tools and neurological fitness to efficiently return us to regulation.

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