I’m sure that when my mom and my sister see this post, they will laugh for a good few minutes. Because if there is one thing that Whitney Drake is not known for, it’s for being at a loss for words.

But here it is, getting later and later on Tuesday and I just don’t know what I could blog about.

We went to Disneyland without anyone getting sick, so there’s that. We finally rode on Radiator Springs Racers, which was sort of impossible because we never got to the park early enough to manage it (pro-tip: If you want a fastpass or a shorter wait, get there at DCA opening). We had a great time, though the Little Kidlet isn’t exactly keen to try it again.

The funny thing is that I’m at a loss for what to blog today, not because of the vlog, but because I’m so busy writing.

Which is another sort of terrifying. The whole reason I haven’t been able to produce a final draft of anything is that I am such a perfectionist, I keep trying to edit as I go. So this week has been about writing without editing, and just letting it suck.

Because as my sister so aptly told me today on the phone, I can fix it later. But I have to get out all the suckiness so I can fix it. If I stop to tinker, it’ll never be done.

Being a mother has become a lesson in flexibility. When I was younger, plans were plans. If they fell through, I would sulk. And now? Well, to me life is like the tide, things come and go and the shoreline of my life constantly changes.

No, really.

It sounds like one of those insane motivational posters, but it’s true. I’ve had to anticipate and handle anything that gets thrown my way.

Last weekend, we decided to take the Kidlets to Disneyland, and headed out. The Little Kidlet wasn’t very enthused (which was odd), but it was a million degrees outside (90) and we thought nothing of it.

We went on Star Tours, we went to Innoventions to see the Iron Man 3 display (where I fangirled long enough to embarrass my boys, who clearly weren’t as excited about the suits as I was) and then we realized that the Little Kidlet was warm. In the air conditioned comfort of Innoventions, he was actually hot. So we stopped by First Aid (side note: To all parents, learn where First Aid is at Disneyland. Right next to it is the Infant Care center, where you can feed/nurse/change babies, and they even have small toilets for kids just starting potty traiing) where they took his temperature and discovered he had a fever of 101.6.

So they gave us a dose of Tylenol and we came home. The children were bitterly disappointed, and we bribed them with toys (LK now owns a Loki action figure, and I had everything nothing to do with that decision).

This isn’t the first time we’ve had to do something similar. A couple years ago we had a room at the Disneyland Hotel for a night before we headed out to Tucson to visit family, and the Oldest Kidlet spiked a fever and started throwing up. We gave him medicine and spent the entire day in the hotel room.

And while I know some people would have been upset at spending that sort of money, we just made the most of it- and we still had a great time. (He was also 100% better by the time we started the road trip. Kids are weird that way)

I’ve decided that motherhood has made me a much better strategist. I not only have to prepare for all the common things (the backpack we take out has a first aid kit in it, LK’s allergy stuff and a bottle of Tylenol, now), but I have to figure out how to adapt to the bigger curveballs. So look out world. Don’t mess with me, I will kick the ass of whatever you throw at me.

Here you go! Vlog #3, all about inconsistent clothing sizes and vanity sizing.

I learned a lot of things while editing this one. I say “um” a lot. (I edited out a total of 15) I talk with my hands more like Jack Sparrow than I used to. I also can’t sit as high as I did in this vid if I want to make this widescreen.

If you like my videos, please like them and subscribe to my YouTube channel!

Today I tweeted this:

Dance party in the checkout lane at Target. #thisishowIroll

— Whitney Drake (@whitneyd) May 14, 2013

It occurred to me, looking at the responses, that I mention a lot of dance parties. And some people probably wonder whether or not I actually do dance in public whenever I get the chance.

The answer is yes. I have absolutely no shame when it comes to dancing and lip syncing in public.

Why? Because of my mom (and I mean this as a compliment- and know she’ll take it as one). When I was little, weekends and afternoons were filled with dance parties. I come from a long line of music lovers, and it wasn’t uncommon for my mom to put on a record/tape/CD/the radio and we’d dance around for a good long while to whatever popped on. At some point in time, she used to bring out her old dance costumes (my mom did ballet as a child) and we’d put them on and get down.

80′s… disco… surf guitar… big band? We danced to them all. Weddings? I love weddings- even as a kid, it meant that I’d get to dance!

When I started to get older, music came with me everywhere. One of my prized possessions was my CD player and it and a few mix CDs went everywhere with me. When I drove, I put on some music and rocked out. And yes, Supernatural fans, driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole.

So I would dance in the car. Then when I got to college, I would dance in the dorm. And in the library. When I worked at Disneyland- on the monorail platform or on the dock at Jungle Cruise. But that was generally without actual music. It was usually to someone singing a song.

And now that I have my iPod… yes, I dance while running errands. (I dance while I wash dishes and even while I write)

I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because in the end, who gives a damn what other people think of you? Better to have some fun that isn’t at anyone’s expense than worry about what random strangers think.

I know, this may seem odd from the woman who wrote a post about anxiety, but I have no problem being rejected by strangers. It’s the idea of being rejected as someone gets to know me better that makes me choke up inside (and idols of mine aren’t quite strangers).

So let loose! Dance! Feel how liberating it is!

Hey! Listen!

Every day, I share weird anecdotes and comments about the kidlets being geeklings. They really do take after me, in that they love video games, Star Wars, comic book characters (though in their animated adventures), and Ninja Turtles!

But they also get just as obsessed about things as I do. (Whitney get obsessed? Riiiiigggghhhhtttt.)

Which means that last night, as the kidlets brushed their teeth, I answered questions about why Ganondorf wanted the Triforce. Or while I was packing their lunch, I was quizzed about where Navi went after Ocarina of Time ended. On the road to school, the Oldest Kidlet asked me whether or not Link being sent back to his original timeline when he first met Zelda actually stopped Ganondorf at all- since they killed Ganondorf in the future… (which by the way, I’ve always wondered- and given their love of Back to the Future, they were bound to actually think about the whole time travel element)

It’s Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time 24/7 in this house. And I’m exhausted.

I don’t imagine it will help if they discover the sketches I made of Nabooru or Malon in my sketchbook. Or that I want to cosplay as Sheik or Link (I’m not sure which- leaning towards Sheik).

At any rate, will someone else answer their questions for me? At least until they’ve picked a new obsession? As much as I love Legend of Zelda, I just need a tiny break from Hyrule.

It’s the second “official” episode of my Vlog.

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In my vlog, I mentioned that I’d been freaking out (about a lot of things, including freaking out). One of the ones I didn’t mention was the whole freakout that started when I posted this ridiculous GIF.

Which I should point out I made because I was bored and because I’d been joking with S about losing fifteen minutes staring at this GIF of Misha Collins (so I joked I could make something equally distracting and life-ruining):

At any rate, I posted the GIF and got a really nice response to it- but it wasn’t what I was expecting. I’d been bracing myself for the worst, which was for people to tell me that I was a ridiculous loser and to knock it off.

Why? Because somewhere deep down is the insecure girl that I was in high school. I think we all have that deep down, that little voice from who we were in the past that tries to undermine all the progress we’ve made.

I wasn’t that bad off in high school. I was in the honors/AP track in high school, and graduated with an 3.83 GPA. I was active in our theater department, and acted & sang outside of school. My school wasn’t as bad, clique-wise as other schools. There were literally too many smart kids to torture them relentlessly. And for the most part, the drama kids just were on their own.

But I dragged in a lot of baggage with me. I skipped a grade when I was younger, so most of the kids I was in school with knew that I was younger than them, and I was also one of the shortest kids in my school. There wasn’t any avoiding people knowing any of that about me. I’d been in the same honors classes with the same kids since I started the GATE program in the fourth grade. When I graduated, I was a whopping 5’0″ – I actually grew almost 3 inches the summer I graduated and through my first year of college. And I was pretty flat, breast-wise, with a baby face and short hair.

I was invisible outside of a classroom. That isn’t to say I was lonely- I had some great friends, and we had a lot of great times. It was just extremely rare for anyone to actually look at me unless I was on stage or singing, and certainly it was rare for anyone to be attracted to me (I had one boyfriend during high school, one stalker- and any date I had to a dance was a friend). While I wanted to be seen, it was safe being invisible like that. It meant that nobody could break my heart, not really.

Things changed once I got to college. Nobody treated me like their kid sister- I was actually asked by a film student if I could get naked for his student film (No worries, I did say no. He was seriously trying to make an adult film with two girls and he thought that “it was with a girl so it isn’t real” and “I’ll pay you in pizza” were compelling arguments). And it was even more obvious at Disneyland, where the very moment I started training at Autopia, people were trying to push me towards a certain dark-haired cast member with broad shoulders (hint: I married the guy).

For awhile there, I thought that fear of being hurt was gone. Right up until a few people I’d thought were friends managed to crush me. I let them in, and they hurt me deeply. TheBoy and Jerad were there to help me pick up the pieces, but it told me that my high school fear was valid. Walls went up.

Which brings me back to all the comments about the GIF. Having people actually see me reminded me of all that pain, and I panicked in a big way. Because if people were seeing me, it meant I could be hurt.

I do laugh when someone says that I come across as being confident and pulled together. Apparently I’m a better actress than I thought.

For the most part, I am secure in who I am. I am Whitney Drake, writer, mother and wife. I am a geek to the core and my hair was always supposed to be teal. My head is filled with stories that are begging to be told. There are tattoos written under my skin begging to be uncovered someday.

I’m also the girl who was is afraid of having her heart broken. The only difference is that now, more than a decade later- I’m willing to take that chance.

I know, I said I was going to post blogs on Tues-Friday, but this was an emergency post.

If you’re a parent, at some point in time you will be faced with the dreaded task of throwing a birthday party. What to do?

I’ve been to a few now, and based off the successful ones that we had, here’s what I’ve learned:

Speed is important. Kids (especially kids experiencing a sugar high) are impatient and have certain expectations about what happens at birthday parties. So keep the party moving at a snappy pace.

I like parties with bounce houses and no games. The kids get to play, you just interrupt them when it’s time for the piñata, food or the cake. Then as it winds down, you just turn off the dang thing.

Parties at pizza places are cool, but they are tricky if you have kids with allergies. They’re nice because you just have to hand your kid some money for the arcade and they’re usually really short.

So why am I bringing this up? Yesterday, we went to a birthday party thrown at a park near our house. The mom asked us to RSVP so she’d know how many goodie bags to put together, so we did. She warned us to get there early so that we’d be guaranteed food, we did. Helped that the park is less than a 1/2 mile from our house.

But three hours into the party, there was no sign that they were ready to do the piñata or cake- and my kids were exhausted. We left about a half hour later, and stopped off at the store to buy cake for the Oldest Kidlet. We weren’t the only ones to notice the glacial pace. I saw other kids asking their parents when they would be doing the piñ. One adult admitted she’d had an extra plate of food because there was nothing to do- she hadn’t even been hungry.

I understand that this wasn’t just a party for the kids at school, that it was a family party, too. But for goodness sake- front load all the kid party stuff early on, buy a second piñata to do with family later on in the day- that way the school crowd can be in and out, and you can hang out with your family all day.

The more parties we’ve thrown and have gone to, the more I realize that it’s pretty simple to throw a great party. Don’t overplan (you really don’t need a lot of games- and if you’re doing a piñata or have a bounce house, you don’t even need games), keep things moving, and everyone has a great time.

Your thoughts? Am I making a big deal out of nothing? Do you have a different idea of what makes for a perfect kids party? Let me know!

I know. You’re thinking (especially if you watched yesterday’s Vlog) that I’ve lost my mind.

Shortly after Halloween, the Little Kidlet and the Oldest Kidlet announced that this year they wanted to go as Boba Fett (LK) and a Stormtrooper (OK). Considering it’s my year to make costumes, I was already looking forward to the challenge of using craft foam to sculpt some armor for them. But I prepared myself for them to inevitably pick something else.

On Wednesday, I was in the middle of putting makeup on when the Little Kidlet burst into my room. “Iron Man, Mommy! For Halloween, I want to be Iron Man!”

Well, I told myself, we could buy the mask and then I could try to make the armor. Still ridiculously early to commit to a costume, but something I could still plan.

When I picked him up from school that day, he was bouncing up and down. “Mommy! I’m going to be Captain America for Halloween.”

I smiled, nodded and told him that whatever he decided, it’d be fine.

As we pulled up to the house, the Little Kidlet shouted, “I think I want to be Thor for Halloween.”

As I unbuckled him from the carseat, I smiled. “Do you really want to be any of those for Halloween or do you just want me to get you the Avengers costumes?”

“No,” he said, a little too loudly. “NO. no. Nooooo.” While he’s the only one of the kids who will lie, at least it’s obvious when he does.

I’m wondering if he’ll ask to be Hawkeye, too. Meanwhile, I think it’s time that we get him some of the toy props so that he can pretend to be whoever he wants.

Meanwhile, not a peep from the Oldest Kidlet. I think he’s just waiting for his little brother to pick something, so he can get a costume related to it.

To those who watched my vlog… I will answer one question: YES, that is what I’m really like.

Also: It it a parenting fact that if you buy popsicles for your kids because it’s suddenly as hot as the sun, that they will take two bites and decide they don’t want them.

This week’s Vlog. Talking about panic attacks, posting schedules and jackets!

Also, there was a strange outtake that I turned into a GIF. Over on Tumblr, I’m running a contest (sort of) for who can come up with why I’m reacting the way I am. You have until Wed, May 8, at 9pm Eastern.