Tomorrow afternoon we’re going to load up the van and drive four-ish hours north and spend the weekend with our family to celebrate Easter. It’s a fun, crazy weekend for everyone, but, like every vacation with kids, it is actually work disguised as fun. I’ve done this exact same road trip for over ten years now, half of those years with kids, but every year I act like it’s the first year I’ve ever done this. This is how I spend the last twelve hours before this trip (and before almost any road trip we take as a family):
1. Realize Thursday night that oh shit, I have to pack for myself and three other people.
2. Additionally realize that there may not be enough clean clothes to accommodate this trip.
3. Get up Friday morning and, despite knowing how much shit has to be done within the next three hours, talk myself into the idea that there’s time for me to sit down and screw around on the Internet.
4. Realize what a dumb fucking idea #3 was, and start digging through the mountain of clean (and, what the hell, dirty) clothes in a desperate attempt to pack for the kids.
5. Wander from room to room in an attempt to grab things I’m remembering to bring, but then forgetting about that thing when I remember another thing I need, then forgetting why I came to that room since I forgot about thing #1.
6. Try to clandestinely smuggle the Easter baskets, toys, and candy into the car in a place that won’t be discovered by children.
7. Hear the same, “ALL this shit is going with us?!?!” from husband that I hear every goddamn year. YES ALL THIS SHIT NOW PLEASE GET TO THE PART WHERE YOU LOAD IT IN YOUR CAR THANK YOU NOW WALK AWAY SO I CAN GRUMBLE UNDER MY BREATH WITHOUT YOU HEARING ME.
8. Remember that I never asked my mom if she would check on the dog this weekend. Leave frantic voicemail. Fill up the dog dishes a little fuller than normal and wish him godspeed.
9. Be reminded yet again of the year I left our suitcase with all of our clothes and personal care items on the staircase and didn’t realize it until we were four hours from home, forcing us to make an impromptu trip to Target to buy clothes and toothpaste for the weekend. HAHAHA NOT FUNNY YET MOTHERFUCKER JUST GET IN THE VAN.
10. Load up the kids and hand each one their drink and their snack.
11. Listen to complaining from kids after they finish their snack while we’re still in the driveway.
12. Stop at the Wendy’s by the freeway and remember how much this Wendy’s sucks.
The rest of the weekend, however, is pretty great.
However, there is that pesky drive home. Scientists: teleportation. For reals. GET ON THAT.