I am fairly easy going. I don’t care if the kids pull every sheet and blanket out of the closet to build a fort in the living room. I don’t care if they dirty every dish we own while making a special (inedible) recipe. And I don’t care if their rooms are a hot mess and every toy they have is on the floor (as long as that mess stays in their room). Life is just too short to sweat the small stuff.
But I am a 100% bona-fide OCD list maker. Projects at work, honey-do lists for the house (that are now figure-out-how-to-do lists), Christmas lists, birthday lists… the list of lists goes on and on.
Travel only increases my need for lists because 2 children + 2 dogs + a memory sucking thyroid = I’m going to forget something.
I am blessed with travel. I have called Germany home, I have walked where Roman Gods readjusted their togas, I have eaten my weight in baguettes and croissants in front of the world’s most famous selfie, waved hello to Lady Diana and again after she got the family jewels, and I’ve line danced with true hillbillies at any rednecks Disney World … Dollywood.
I’ve seen good stuff.
But even though travelling is my absolute favorite thing to do, for me, the packing is comparable to the prep for a colonoscopy. The lists start a week in advance and grow by the page the further out I start. It’s not that I need to pack the kitchen sink, it’s that I would forget the sink if I needed it.
Toothbrushes and toothpaste, socks and underwear, vitamins and prescriptions, turning the front light on and the thermostat off… I’m sure it’s simple for most, but I need my list.
Every day this week I thought of something new to add to the list for our weekend away. I kept the list at work so I could randomly add things during the day. It was a great list. One that will be used on the next trip because I left it at work.
So Wednesday night I put my big girl panties on and tried on my common sense for a change. In the end, I just threw clothes in the suitcase and hoped they matched.
I packed 12 pairs of underwear for each of us for a 3 day trip though, because you just never know.
What I forgot to do that night was run the dishwasher, take out the trash and that sort of thing. Because of that, I had to wake up at the cool crack of dawn to play Cinderella before it was time to leave for the airport.
I ran around like a crazy person for two hours getting chores done, getting the kids ready, getting me ready, packing the last minute additions, the toiletries that have to be packed last, playing referee to the children, convincing them to give up looking for the missing right shoe and just pick another pair…
By the time White Horse (car service) knocked on the door, I needed another shower and an Irish coffee. He packed the car with my 2-ton suitcase, 2 energetic children, 2 carry-ons, and the too good to be true deep breath of a vacation starting.
Let the weekend begin!
Has anyone seen my charger? Ugh.