When I say "we" are packing, of course I mean "me." Jeff's stuff is Jeff's stuff. My stuff is everything else... for me, the boys, and the dog. Jeff will pack his clothes, hair gel, and deodorant in about ten minutes and then walk around the house pointing to all the bags I have been strategically packing for two days, saying, "Is this bag ready to go out? Is this bag ready? Are you sure we NEED all this stuff? Just keep in mind, Greg has a washing machine."
Don't get me wrong, he is great... willing and ready to help whenever needed. He is awesome. He will just never understand the difference between what a road trip entails for ME versus HIM. I mean, his clothes fit. All of them. All the time.
So last night, for some reason, I decided to carefully explain this to him part by part... in a whiny voice... to ensure that he grasped just how much harder family trip preparation is for the Mom. That's right. Not just me. I was speaking for ALL Moms. Oh, and yes, I know what you are thinking. This was during the Super Bowl.
So, at lightning speed (commercial breaks aren't that long,) I explained how all my clothes are for a warm climate, my pants don't fit, my shoes don't fit, my dresses aren't suitable for nursing, Jack doesn't want to wear his suit, he needs a haircut, the "Check Engine" light came on, there's a run in my control top pantyhose, there's no printer ink to print the MapQuest directions, there's no room for a pack-n-play, the dog needs dog-sitting, we need a copy of the house key, Davis needs black pants, I wish he had a tie that would match my blouse, and how important it is to pack healthy snacks so the clothes I borrowed will still fit when I get there. I then thoroughly went over the pros and cons of leaving the stroller at home.
Just when I reached the end of the list of all that I still have to do before we leave town in two days, I took a moment to look in the mirror.
I took a good, long look at myself and paused for a moment. I took a deep breath. You know what I realized? Looking at my own reflection in the middle of all this list-making, stressing, and carrying on?
My eyebrows are about to meet in the middle.
That put me over the edge and I started to cry.
Jeff turned to me and gave me a big hug. He reminded me that it will all work out, that I will look beautiful with or without the unibrow, that noone will notice that Davis doesn't have shoes on, and that the commercial break was almost over.
I hugged him back, laughed at myself, dried my tears, and thought, "What a lucky girl I am to have him. I can hardly believe he just loves me anyway." As I drove off to Wal*mart at 10:30pm for pantyhose, black socks, a green tie, and healthy snacks, I wondered what he was thinking about his crazy emotional wife.
I imagine he started by laughing about how cute I am when I get into one of the these charming little "moods." Then he most likely reflected on how deeply he appreciates all that I do to ensure smooth travel and happy children. I am sure he could hardly concentrate on the game because of his great anticipation of twenty hours of uninterrupted conversation with me in the car.
Bless his heart. I am sure that was exactly what he was thinking.
2 comments:
oh, sweet friend! that made me cry and laugh at the same time.
have a WONDERFUL time and be safe. oh, and take pictures. :)
of the unibrow, especially.
Do you feel better now sweetie?
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