Seven Packing Takes

Just to help my own self out, because I’m feeling the pressure of time and forgetfulness, here’s a summary of the swirling tempest of my mind.

One–Packing

Laundry basically done. Neat rows of children’s clothes, organized by day for the journey south, ready to be put into some kind of receptacle. I guess that would probably be some kind of suit case, or something. My own bag packed. Matt’s clothes in near order. Shoes scattered far and wide of the face of the house. Personal objects of children strewn far and wide and not residing in their own backpacks. Time to make a list of everything that needs to make it into the car.

Two–Food

Junk food allotted by day and meal in mounds on dining room floor. Chips, cookies, disgusting varieties of pudding and foul sugary drinks all counted out into perfect equality. Remaining, the real bulk of labor and sweat required to make actual food: tiny meat pies, apple turnovers, granola, peanut butter balls, boiled eggs, and something else that I can’t remember. Oh. Muffins. Muffins. Should not forget the muffins. The assembling of the coffee and tea bag also requires time and careful attention.

Three–Cleaning

Oh my word, the house is disgusting. Going to make a valiant effort to get jam off of all visible surfaces, and sweep the floor, but there’s no humanly possible way I’m going to walk out of a clean house on Sunday afternoon. I’m going to pretend that I don’t even care, even though I really really, in my heart, do.

Four–Books

Can’t believe I shoved this off so late. Everyone needs a variety of interesting books to read. This should have come First, gah, a month ago, when I first started all my lists. In all the chaos of today and tomorrow I’m probably definitely going to end up with a stack of books that everyone hates, or some other total tragedy.

Five–The Bird

Really going to spend the whole month fretting about the bird. Is there consensus for the name of this bird to be Robin? So as to be perfectly gender neutral? Because what are gender distinctions anyway? Isn’t gender really just a social construct, a continuum along which anyone may fall. Just kidding. Trying to distract myself from the tragedy of not seeing this little ball of fluff fall out of his nest and get eaten by the big orange next door cat.

Six–The Peonie

I don’t care. I’m going to cut off most of the closed buds and take them with me. I’ll leave one for Carrie. She can either come over and cut it and take it, or take pictures of it every day, because she’s got lots of time to sit around in my garden, I know, and has no life at all.

Seven–AGH

Don’t worry, I won’t forget to bring along a full measure of panic, anxiety, and quarrelsomeness. Six children and a husband all in the car for some number of days will provide ample opportunity for trouble and strife. I always find, in situations like this, even a fun holiday, it helps to keep my expectations as low as catastrophically possible. Look, I say to myself, I know you’re frothing with excitement about all the fun things that are planned, but just bring it all way way down some notches. It’s more likely going to be awful. The children are going to whine and shout the whole way down. Your husband is going to take the whole month to leave the incredible stress he’s carrying around behind. You’re going to hate the books you brought to read. In fact, you’re not even going to have time to read them. Someone is going to break an arm and get strep throat. In short, It’s Going To Be Awful.

I know, I know, this sounds terribly negative. But believe me, all this tragical self talk is not madness. The only place to go, when you have truly convinced yourself that life is going to be terrible, is up. When anything goes nicely, when any child speaks kindly even one time to any other child, when you get to drive down any stretch of road safely, when you eat anything interesting at all, the only thing to feel is total overwhelming gratitude. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, you can whisper, when you find yourself looking out over a beautiful landscape. It was supposed to be awful. And look how happy we are and how much fun we are having. It’s really like all of life in general. If you go along saying, it’s supposed to be wonderful and we’re supposed to live forever, you end up terribly disappointed to find yourself steeped in personal sin, the world around you falling to pieces. But if you start out saying, everything is not awesome, when you find there is a great salvation, a rescuer so gracious, so perfect, you cannot help but be grateful.

And on that note, I will go scrape up dried jam off the kitchen floor and pray for you to go read lots more interesting takes.