Wish You Were Here...

As I type, we are speeding down the highway on the way to Atlanta for Easter. I tried in vain to lose those extra 12lbs that I have been carrying around on my butt… but alas, my crash diet of salads, m&m’s, and diet Pepsi only helped me lose 2 measly pounds. It must have been all of those extra large salads that did me in.

Who it is that packs in your house? I do all of the packing in my house. If I did not, my children would pack all of their dirty underwear, ripped t-shirts and holey blue jeans. I insist upon packing so that I can at least make sure my children look like they have a mother who cares.

My husband will set out all of the things that he wants me to pack for him. I will do this and then 100 miles down the road he will turn to me and say, “Did you pack my blue shirt with the yellow thread on the collar?” This will lead to a heated discussion because I will have no recollection of that blue shirt, and before you know it we are parked on the side of the highway and unpacking the entire rear of the van to check and make sure that I did in fact pack that one shirt. It always ends up that I have packed it., because my husband had set it out, but he could not remember and I do not care to remember. I honestly do not know why I try and organize the luggage in the back of the van because whenever we are parked on the side of the road, my husband just tosses all the luggage back into the van and my Easter dress will end up on the bottom and the (much needed-ever important-for the love of God we cannot forget them!) golf clubs will be on top.

Do you know how you see a lonely shoe or a discarded pair of pants along the highway? Those are just the things in my suitcase that have blown out when we are frantically searching for the blue shirt with the yellow thread in the collar. Those are my pants, and that is my shoe that I need to wear the next morning to Easter Mass.

Next time you see clothes on the side of the road, please pick it up and email me. I will give you my mailing address and you can send me my underwear that have been rolling and tumbling in the wind in North Carolina.

I am a horrible packer for myself. I go through my closet and decide to take things that I have not worn in three years. I say to myself “Hey! These parachute pants will look fabulous with that florescent green top I have! I must pack these!” I then spend the entire holiday in clothes that are too small because I held up my size 6 blue jeans and tossed them in my suitcase—just in case I lose 12lbs somewhere between Virginia and Georgia. It is an 11 hour drive-it could happen!

Yes, when I pull out my suitcase something happens within my brain. I am no longer able to decipher between what actually fits and what will make me look like a pair of pigs wrapped in a sheet. I will also pack 17 pair of shoes and 13 belts. You never know what may happen while on vacation. Those belts did come in handy one year when our car died and a Good Samaritan towed us to the local garage. Ever since it took 10 belts strapped together to tow our car, I never leave on vacation with less than 12 in my bag. I like to be prepared.

And I need those 17 pair of shoes because I know I will lose at least 5 along the highway when my husband searches for his favorite pair of sweat socks that he is not sure I packed for him.