So, here I am, sitting in my robe (it's already 11:30 and I'm still not even dressed, although I am showered), and there is a gigantic, disgusting mess waiting to be cleaned up on the kitchen floor, and a daughter in the bathtub. I will tell you more about that later.
Packing for any vacation is always a dreaded chore for me. I was never good at doing it for myself (all that planning! oh dread...), but add to that the chaos of trying to get ready for anything with and for kids, and you might as well just shoot me now. Everything is a struggle. Nothing goes right.
Last night, just trying to get through the laundry was impossible. My last load of jeans was in the dryer, and I was feeling triumphant because as soon as that was folded I would be more securely in the "packing zone". The thing is, jeans are sometimes a suprise affair for me. I always forget to check the pockets before I start washing, and it has bit me in the behind many times. Yesterday, it was a red crayon. It melted on every single stinking pair of pants I washed, and they were all the good ones I wanted for our trip!!! AAHH!!! It took me over an hour to scrub every little melted scrap out. Thankfully they all came clean, but the incident has set a mood for the whole packing experience (that and my already bad attitude. I know I am a whiner. Sue me.)
So far this morning I have gathered my bathroom stuff together to be packed tomorrow morning, and I have packed my jewlery I plan on using. That is as far as I have gotten because of the pickles. Let me tell you about the pickles.
Kloe woke up this morning in the mood for apple juice and milk. I have neither on hand because I have resisted getting groceries since we are leaving town in the morning. She was not in the mood for oatmeal, toast, cereal, or any of the other items I have on hand. So I went in to take a shower while she decided what she wanted. While I am in the shower, a jar of pickles comes creeping through the shower curtain. Turns out pickles are exactly what she wants for breakfast. I say OK. Pickles are a vegetable right? Very healthy for your average five year old (she turned five yesterday!). So I open the jar for her and send her on her way with strict instructions not to spill the pickles on the carpet.
When I came out of the bathroom, Kloe was sitting on the couch, holding her stomach, saying "I don't feel so good. I feel busy (she meant dizzy)". I look around for the jar of pickles. They are ALL GONE. And most of the juice is too. Oops. Forgot to tell her about the dangers of drinking pickle juice. I know the temptation all to well.
"Do you want some oatmeal honey", I ask, very concerned at this point. "Sure Mommy", she says back, thinking mommy knows what will make her feel better.
Turns out, not such a great idea. As soon as she smelled the oatmeal she started hurling gallons of little chewed up peices of pickles (and egg? How did that get in there?) all over my kitchen floor. Where it remains until I finish this blog (I could either deal with it by writing it down, or just start drinking early. The blog barely won). I could not face it just yet.... but....
Okay. Here I go. I'm rolling up the sleeves to my robe. Maybe sometime today I will actually get to pack.
Packing for any vacation is always a dreaded chore for me. I was never good at doing it for myself (all that planning! oh dread...), but add to that the chaos of trying to get ready for anything with and for kids, and you might as well just shoot me now. Everything is a struggle. Nothing goes right.
Last night, just trying to get through the laundry was impossible. My last load of jeans was in the dryer, and I was feeling triumphant because as soon as that was folded I would be more securely in the "packing zone". The thing is, jeans are sometimes a suprise affair for me. I always forget to check the pockets before I start washing, and it has bit me in the behind many times. Yesterday, it was a red crayon. It melted on every single stinking pair of pants I washed, and they were all the good ones I wanted for our trip!!! AAHH!!! It took me over an hour to scrub every little melted scrap out. Thankfully they all came clean, but the incident has set a mood for the whole packing experience (that and my already bad attitude. I know I am a whiner. Sue me.)
So far this morning I have gathered my bathroom stuff together to be packed tomorrow morning, and I have packed my jewlery I plan on using. That is as far as I have gotten because of the pickles. Let me tell you about the pickles.
Kloe woke up this morning in the mood for apple juice and milk. I have neither on hand because I have resisted getting groceries since we are leaving town in the morning. She was not in the mood for oatmeal, toast, cereal, or any of the other items I have on hand. So I went in to take a shower while she decided what she wanted. While I am in the shower, a jar of pickles comes creeping through the shower curtain. Turns out pickles are exactly what she wants for breakfast. I say OK. Pickles are a vegetable right? Very healthy for your average five year old (she turned five yesterday!). So I open the jar for her and send her on her way with strict instructions not to spill the pickles on the carpet.
When I came out of the bathroom, Kloe was sitting on the couch, holding her stomach, saying "I don't feel so good. I feel busy (she meant dizzy)". I look around for the jar of pickles. They are ALL GONE. And most of the juice is too. Oops. Forgot to tell her about the dangers of drinking pickle juice. I know the temptation all to well.
"Do you want some oatmeal honey", I ask, very concerned at this point. "Sure Mommy", she says back, thinking mommy knows what will make her feel better.
Turns out, not such a great idea. As soon as she smelled the oatmeal she started hurling gallons of little chewed up peices of pickles (and egg? How did that get in there?) all over my kitchen floor. Where it remains until I finish this blog (I could either deal with it by writing it down, or just start drinking early. The blog barely won). I could not face it just yet.... but....
Okay. Here I go. I'm rolling up the sleeves to my robe. Maybe sometime today I will actually get to pack.
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