We leave for Jamaica tomorrow morning. Which: NO COMPLAINTS. I SWEAR. I AM TOTALLY CHECKING MY VACATION PRIVILEGE. But our packing and final preparations are complicated slightly by the fact that Jason is currently in Ohio, and won't be back until very late tonight. So it's pretty much all on me. Which is all but guaranteed to end super badly.
I'd make a joke about somebody not having any underwear but underwear is far too obvious of a thing to forget, plus I've checked everybody's underwear stash already and it's all good and there. Which means the thing I've forgotten is probably even worse, like pants, or all of my clothing.
So not much time for dicking around here today — I've pre-written a nice stash of Advice Smackdowns, so if you were concerned about missing a day's worth of questionable advice, don't worry about it. I've got you and your terrible life choices covered. But I need to finish packing, care for my children, and talk Ezra down from the ledge he's climbed over what he should put in his backpack. I was thinking everybody could bring their best bedtime stuffed toy(s), some doodling notebooks/crayons and maybe a small Tupperware of okay-if-we-lose-them LEGOs.*
Ezra took his backpack down to the basement and filled it with:
1) a remote-controlled garbage truck
2) 300 (or so, at least) Angry Birds and Angry Birds accessories
3) a six-pack of plastic milks
4) an assortment of toy fruits, cups & ice cubes
5) a battery-operated plastic blender
Lord help me, I think the kid was planning to make pina coladas once we got there.
When I pointed out that there was no room in the backpack for Bloon and Bubby, he looked mildly horrified. Since when were Bloon and Bubby riding to Jamaica in a backpack? They can't breathe in a backpack. Did I not buy them seats on the plane? Because Bloon and Bubby need their own seats on the plane.
So that's going to go well, probably.
Plus — PRIORITIES — I need find time to cram in at least a couple episodes of Orange Is the New Black before we go. I better get moving. Those pants aren't going to forget themselves, after all.
*Re: the LEGOs. I have this recurring stress/anxiety dream that I'm at the airport and my bags are full of LEGOs for some reason, and that the LEGOs keep falling out right as I'm trying to get through security or board the plane. It starts with one LEGO, but once I pick that one up I notice another. And then another. Eventually there are LEGOs everywhere and I'm frantically trying to scoop them up and get them back into my bag and totally failing. Sometimes I get so focused on the LEGOs that I suddenly realize that I don't know where any of my children are, or if I even had them with me in the first place, but now I have to look for them while dragging a bag that's still leaking LEGOs everywhere. So basically it's either a sign of me having my stress/anxiety shit SUPER TOGETHER that I'm considering allowing my children to take even a small amount of LEGOs with them to the airport, or a sign of...well, the opposite of that. This could be the volcano show outside The Mirage all over again. Tune in later to find out!