Sometimes, (okay, just once) blogging can lead to very special opportunities. Last weekend, I was invited to go to the fabulous Walt Disney World with 15 other “Mom Bloggers.” Without our children. Because it was a blogging event, I blogged. I am nothing if not literal.

Friday:

3:15: I arrived at Disney’s Beach Club Resort after a 90 minute drive of listening to my own radio choices rather than the “Underdog” screenplay which is my usual fare. The room is beautiful, and it is difficult to believe the whole thing is mine. I did a sheet angel on the king size bed and didn’t hit a kid or a dog when I did it.

4:30: We all gather at a Welcome Reception in an outdoor gazebo overlooking the beautiful pool at the Beach Club. There is this beautiful buffet laid out--it includes buffalo and duck. And Sangria. Lovely appetizers. Did I mention Sangria?

The women here are truly amazing. And very diverse. There are bloggers, product reviewers, web designers, writers, parenting site editors, and me. I am beginning to seriously wonder what I’m doing here amongst all of this talent. They run all sorts of parenting websites and write beautifully.

My column this morning was about writing off Jack Daniels as a deduction on my taxes.

6:00: We headed over to Italy for dinner. (Italy was just in nearby Epcot, but I just like saying that.) There is a 17 hour wait, but we get escorted right inside and occupy 3 large tables in the middle of the restaurant. I do not have to park a stroller next to me.

We eat like kings. Or queens. Italian queens. There is food and wine and attentive waiters with accents. We are talking non-stop. Imagine a group of women. A group of mothers traveling for a weekend of fun without kids. A group of child-less mothers who also blog. We never shut up. EVER.

And we take pictures. Lots of pictures. The cameras were flashing like paparazzi bulbs, and the braised pork shank was Lindsay Lohan.

8:30: After the fabulous meal and 3 desserts, we are escorted to more desserts. I see no problem here.

There are attendants with air traffic controller flares leading us through the crowds that have already started to line up to watch the fireworks. People are staring trying to figure out why we are so important. I want to answer their curious stares with, “We’re bloggers. Mommy bloggers.” And then watch them all scramble to eat their vegetables and write HTML code.

9:00: We are seated in our own private area with our desserts and coffee and benches right on the water to watch Illuminations. Totally fun. I become that tourist which I abhor--and watch the entire show through the viewfinder of the HandyCam because I feel as though I should work a little.

11:05: Back in my room, next to flowers from my family sits a gift bag of Disney goodies. Like a Golden Globe nominee. At least I think they’re fun, because I pass out on my big bed exhausted from partying like a blog star.

Saturday

6:42 a.m.

This is early, but I get in that shower and panic for a moment that a baby monitor isn’t on. Then I remember that I don’t have one this weekend.

We eat a light breakfast in a private meeting room at the hotel. Another Disney cast member has joined us to answer any questions we may have and share some insider tips.

Does anyone have any questions?

This is like asking a room full Kindergartners if they need more glue. Or members of an AA meeting if they need more coffee. Or a group of Mommy bloggers if they have any questions.

We’ve got lots.

Again, I start to doubt the purpose of my presence here because the group is asking really intelligent and insightful questions about healthy dining options, food allergies and recycling programs. I just want to know why Mickey wears pants, and Donald doesn’t. So I hold back, but absorb the very interesting discussion.

9:00: We head on over to the Magic Kingdom for a little photo shoot (will I ever shake the paparazzi??) and some riding time. I make all the height requirements.

Using our VIP FastPasses, I know I will never be able to fly coach on Space Mountain again.

12:00: Back on the bus to head on over to Hollywood Studios. We have lunch at the Brown Derby and it is delicious. I didn’t think I would ever be able to eat again after Italy, but I make a good old college try at the Cobb Salad which is bigger than the Epcot Ball.

Then we get a sneak peak at a new ride, “Toy Story Mania.” It is still under construction, the press hasn’t even seen it yet, (I just scooped Al Roker!) but we get a tour of it and a whole description from the “Imagineers” who created it.

5:45: Meeting in the lobby of the hotel in our fancy non-Mom clothes. We’re wearing skirts and open-toed shoes. And lipstick. There is not an elastic waistband to be found. We are gorgeous. I dare you to say we aren‘t. (We’ll only blog about you later.)

We walk outside to board the bus, but no. No bus. Instead, three white stretch limos wait with champagne being uncorked. We climb in as though we are used to traveling in such a fashion, and no one even pretends to buckle their seat belts. (We are seriously getting used to this whole non-Mom thing.)

The limos take us over to the California Grill at the Contemporary Resort. We enter a side door of the restaurant only to find that we are not dining amongst others, but rather a full 6 course meal in a private room on the roof of the hotel over looking Cinderella’s castle with the executive chef of Epcot as our dining companion.

Plate after plate is served with some of the most delicious food I’ve eaten. The courses are beautiful and I almost hate to deconstruct the lovely presentations, but I get over it and plow through each dish and resist the urge just to drop my face into the molten chocolate cake. Not out of etiquette, but because I'm afraid I'll burn my nose.

8:45: Back in the limos for our ride to Cirque du Soleil--La Nouba. We kill the remainder of the champagne.

This show is intense. After, we get treated to meeting two of the talented performers, and again I know I am way out of my league. Example question from my way more art appreciative friends: I am sensing some powerful themes throughout the show, what does it mean to you?

Example of a Suburban Diva question: Given the whole Mickey/Donald pants issue, would the same fashion rules apply to tutus?

So as not to embarrass the group and myself, I again keep this to myself.

11:44: Back at the hotel I passed out exhausted on my big bed after partying like a blog star.

Sunday:

6:42 a.m. : Please just 5 more minutes of sleep….Please….

6:58: It’s not like no one will notice I’m still in my pajamas. If Donald doesn’t wear pants, than I certainly don’t have to waste the time putting them on.

7:30: I am on time for our character breakfast. My hair is still slightly wet, but I am on time. We have breakfast and get our pictures taken with characters, because it’s a character breakfast after all.

9:00 or something. We head on over to the All-Star Music hotel to tour some of the family suites they have just renovated.

Back at the hotel, people are leaving at different times, so we’re a little melancholy saying good-bye. It takes us 3 1/2 hours.

I sit with a couple of other new friends in lounge chairs around the pool and we agree on several things:

1) The amount of emails passed the week before between us on what shoes we were allowed to take was completely warranted. 7+ pairs each for 2 days is in fact quite reasonable.

2) We will never be able to blog completely about all that has happened--but we sure will use up the entire Internet trying. (Sorry if anyone had online banking or school research to do this week.)

3) At first, Disney without children seemed a little strange. But after 17 bottles of wine in Italy, no double-stroller collapsing on a crowded tram, and no waiting in line for characters (they came to us) I could get a little used to this.

4) You can indeed eat 22 desserts at one sitting and still be hungry for more 3 hours later.

6) We have met and enjoyed some of the most creative, intelligent, beautiful women in the blogosphere, and we are all better for it.

10:34 p.m. After reuniting with a patient husband, 4 wonderful kids, and 1 stupid dog over a belated birthday dinner and stories galore, I pass out on my big (and crowded) bed after partying like a blog star.