Disney for Nine: Heat, Chaos, and One Mouse That Took All My Money (But Gave Us a Little Bit of Magic)

 

Two Years Ago Today… We Did the Thing

Two years ago today, our entire crew rolled into Disney World—America’s favorite family fun park, money pit, and childhood memory factory. It was one of those trips that Jamie planned, and I tolerated. Mostly.

Like a lot of the best things we’ve done together, this one didn’t start with me jumping up and down with excitement. I was more in the “do we really need to do this right now?” phase of my Disney journey. But let’s be honest—once she gets that look in her eyes, there’s no stopping her.

We’ve got a blended family of five kids, and when Jamie gets an idea in her head that’s going to bring everyone together—even if it involves logistical nightmares and hemorrhaging money—I usually know better than to fight it too hard. Eventually. It just takes me a little while to come around.

The Planning Phase (aka: Watching Jamie Spiral in Real Time)

Our travel routine typically starts with a destination idea and quickly escalates into a full-blown research operation. Jamie goes into a trance-like state hunting for the perfect Airbnb. I’ve seen FBI profilers look less intense. She scrolls through options at 2 a.m., elbows me awake to show me kitchen tile and pool screens.

It has to be dog-friendly, because our home is a halfway house for stray animals. Can’t have carpets. The kitchen has to be functional (and by her standards, that eliminates 80% of listings). Pool is non-negotiable. Bonus points for game rooms, pinball machines, pool tables, or anything else that will entertain the crew without costing another fortune.

This part of the process usually involves some crying, pacing, and muttering about cancellation policies. But every single time, she pulls a rabbit out of a hat and finds a gem. This time was no different. She found a beautiful house in St. Cloud—roomy, modern, perfect pool area, and a screened-in lanai. It’s just fun to say lanai. Try it. You’ll see.

My Inner Monologue: Financial Ruin, Now in Technicolor

Leading up to the trip, I’ll admit it—I wasn’t fully on board. Disney is expensive. Disney for nine people feels like the kind of decision that gets you featured on a documentary called Families Who Went Too Far. I figured this was going to be one of those “never financially recover from this” moments.

I brought it up to Jamie one night. “This is a lot of money,” I said.

She didn’t even flinch. “I know,” she said. “But look how excited the kids are. They’re getting older. They won’t all be with us forever. If we’re going to do this, now’s the time.”

What do you say to that?

She’s mostly right, most of the time. She’s the kind of person who’d do anything for those kids—and has, over and over again. So I did what I always do: sighed heavily and gave in. If you’re keeping score, that brings the lifetime tally to Jamie: 8,942 — Nate: 6.

The Crew, All In

The kids were fired up from the jump. Everyone loves a character. Kayla, my daughter, is working on a full tattoo sleeve of Little Mermaid scenes—so let’s just say she was in her element.

By the time we rolled into Florida, the mood was high. The drive was long but mostly smooth, aside from the usual rest stop roulette and snack disasters. We got to the house, and it was everything Jamie had hoped for. Huge kitchen. Big bedrooms. Great outdoor space. And that glorious screened-in lanai—perfect for hiding from bugs and pretending we live in luxury.

Orlando in July: Like Being Slow-Cooked by the Sun

What I wasn’t ready for was the weather. I’ve done hot. I’ve done beach hot. But Orlando in July? That’s its own category. It’s not just heat—it’s oppressive. There’s no breeze. No relief. Just the kind of sticky, swampy humidity that makes you question your life choices. I referred to it as living in the Devils butthole.

You step outside and immediately feel like you’ve been hit with a warm, wet towel to the face. And once you start sweating, it doesn’t stop. Even the Disney characters were breaking down. We watched a costumed Minnie Mouse wave, hug two kids, and then disappear behind a door to be replaced by another one 30 seconds later. I felt for them. Probably the only people sweating harder than I was.

And listen—this might be too much information—but as a middle-aged guy who’s lived through some hot summers, I now understand and deeply value the power of a good body powder. You don’t know what true comfort is until you’ve rediscovered your inner thighs.

The Magic Part

But then… the Disney effect kicks in.

You start noticing the things that made it feel magical when you were a kid. Every tree is perfectly trimmed. The sidewalks are spotless. The trains roll in like clockwork. You look at the Walt Disney World station and wonder about all the rooms and tunnels and secrets behind it. You realize just how massive this place is, and how somehow, it all works.

On Main Street USA, we waited in the direct sun for a Fourth of July weekend flyover. One KC-135 Stratotanker and seven F-35s screamed overhead. It was loud, hot, and impressive as hell. Even through the heat and the sweat, I found myself grinning like the rest of them. (Stratotanker is a fun word too)

Everyone got ears. We had matching wristbands that connected to cameras, apps, extras, upcharges, and whatever else they could dream up. We hit every gift shop, at least they had air conditioning , and somewhere out there, I’m sure a credit card processing company flagged Kayla for fraud.

Alida didn’t wear enough sunscreen, which tracks. Megan didn't snap for people not following the pre arranged plans Hannah and Jake pretended to like each other . Jamie was in her element. Everyone was smiling. It was crowded, it was expensive, and it was hot. But it was good. Really good.

The Exit Wounds

We left the park with sore feet, sweaty clothes, and enough happy memories to almost forget about the cost, the lines, and the absolute audacity of charging eight bucks for a tiny pretzel.

Almost.

But it’s like Jamie said—sometimes you’ve got to take the trip. Especially when you know you won’t always have the full crew together. The kids get older. The moments get harder to schedule. You’ve got to seize the ones you can, even if it feels a little crazy in the moment.

And as much as I joke, I’m glad we did it.

Even if I still think that pretzel cost was criminal.