Yes. I have packed. And repacked. And obssessed. And played out every possible scenario of trauma from the time we leave our house to the airport, in the air, landing, checking in, being at the parks and beach. The tantrums, the confusion. The lost "fill in the blank" the forgotten something, the whining.
And yet. I KNOW that there will be loads of fun and sweet memories tucked between this. So I forge on . Because I must. Because vacations are what makes daily life tolerable. (that and some Arbor Mist. Mmmmm... alcohol....)
Please don't let Justin freak over some miniscule detail at the airport. Would they really kick us off? If so, do you think Patrick would just volunteer to stay home while I take the two younger kids? Would that be bad? Hmmmm...
Please don't let Corinne's new diapers leak on vacation. Let me be a great spokesperson and rave over how convenient they were (especially after listening to my sister on the phone today. She just bought some gDiapers and changed the first poopy one today... and succeeded in overflowing her toilet.... Oops. HOLD THE HANDLE!!)
Speaking of those diapers, she just got up and was wet and so I am now wet. You know you're truly a mom when your shirt has pee on it and you say "Meh. It's just a LITTLE pee. It'll dry."
I must go for she is watching "Minninininie MOOOUUUUSSSE" while eating her peanut butter sandwich that MUST be open-faced with her new clean dress on (the pee, remember?). Potential for MUCH mess.
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