1) Ike's third birthday is on Sunday
a) HOLY CRAP WHAT
b) Buy Ike's birthday present Figure out what he is even talking about when he says he wants a "pirate treasure" for his birthday, then buy whatever the hell it is, provided it is not, in fact, an actual pirate treasure because I'm trying to keep things under like, twenty bucks.
c) Make a cake or cupcakes or maybe just thaw out a couple of those banana muffins I made last week that he seemed to really dig.
d) Clean the house before family descends on us tomorrow and judges the filth.
e) Finish Ike's birthday video, cry about it, post about it, gaaahhh maaahhh baby is gonnnne
2) Next week is insane
a) Two different preschool "graduation" ceremonies that I don't dare skip
b) End of preschool year picnic
c) Wait, once preschool's over my children will, like, be here in the house with me? All day? All the time? That doesn't seem right.
d) Noah's field day
e) One last IEP meeting to finalize next year's code and plan, during which I should probably sack up and admit to his teachers that Noah will be missing the last few days of school and I'm #sorrynotsorry about that, because...
3) We leave for Jamaica next Saturday
a) HOLY CRAP WHAT
b) Meh. I'm actually pretty chill about that one.
Jason has been giving me an alarmed-looking sideeye for a couple weeks now, because I have not
1) Started packing, or even
2) Started making my usual obsessive-compulsive lists about packing, things to pack, thing to buy and then to pack, etc.
Well, maybe that second one isn't entirely true — I started a list, but it petered out pretty quickly. Like:
3) Some other stuff
Very different from our last stateside beach vacations, which typically involve me packing every possible thing that every possible family member might want or need during the week, plus linens and food and five bajillion entertainment options. (Or else they might weep furiously at my failure to anticipate that OF COURSE, they wanted a particular stuffed animal or a specific pillowcase or that the granola bar selection at the local grocery store would be entirely unacceptable.) And very different from the last Jamaica trip, when we were waiting on Ezra's passport up until THE DAY BEFORE OUR FLIGHT. (We have all five in hand this time, and all five are indeed valid, as I have checked the dates at least 14 times.) Because of the passport drama, though, I I basically spent the week leading up to the trip turned inside out from the stress. And packing way, way too much crap.
This time there's nothing to get worked up over. I know that Bluefields has beach and pool toys for the kids. I know that I don't need to pack a ton of toys and diversions for them, since the kids will basically spend all their time swimming or exploring, or sleeping off that special brand of beach exhaustion you get from all that swimming and exploring.
(We're packing a whole bunch of chargers and gadgets loaded up with movies and TV options, of course, because:
1) Plane rides, oh God
2) We're not stupid, like you expect just because there's a nanny we won't still require the services of our electronic babysitters?)
I know that Bluefields will indeed be able procure acceptable food and snack items for even our pickiest eater. They will DO OUR LAUNDRY, both as needed while we're there and again in bulk before we leave, ensuring that we'll arrive home with suitcases full of nothing but cleaned and air-dried in the Jamaican sun clothing, instead of funky mildewed bathing suits and a shitload of loose sand. I know that the only person I need to dress for is Jason, who will not judge me in the slightest if I spend the entire week going barefoot while wearing the same comfy sundress. I know that there's no point in getting my roots done ahead of time, because the color will just get trashed in the pool and again, WHO CARES. LET THE SUN AND SAND AND CHLORINE DO WHATEVER IT WANTS. I'M IN JAMAICA, BITCH.
(I should probably add "get a bikini wax" to my to-do list, however. Because yikes.)
Noah wants to bring his notebook to draw comics in. Ezra wants his babies and his chef's costume. Ike wants...I don't know what he wants. Pirate treasure, apparently, albeit a pirate treasure that has nothing to do with any of the pirate-related toy options I have shown him over the past week.
So maybe I'll just pack him a couple bathing suits and tell him we'll find pirate treasure in Jamaica. And then like, have him pick out a really cool rock. Happy birthday, baby!!!