Once you're a parent, trying to leave the house to go anywhere is exhausting. It doesn't matter if you're running to the post office or to Grammy's house for the weekend, you have to bring everything but the kitchen sink. If you don't, you end up stranded at said post office with a kid in a wet diaper with no Cheerios to keep them occupied and then you're headed straight for Meltdown City.
Recently, our family got to go to the beach for a week. Oh, how I love the beaches of Lower Slower Delaware, and Troy had been working so many extra hours lately that we were all anxious to spend some time together.
I am a list maker. Lists for things I need to do, lists for the store, lists with items on them that I've done already so I feel accomplished. My lists have lists.
So, a few weeks (ok, maybe like, 6 weeks) before leaving for the beach, I started with my lists so we wouldn't forget anything. Then, I started making piles: piles of clothing, swimsuits, sunscreen, Maya's insulin supplies, nightlights, phone chargers, a book just in case I actually had time to read—I even got the girls new beach/pool toys to take along & stashed them in the garage so they wouldn't see them ahead of time. I bought new toys for the car and hid them out of sight, movies to watch on the way so nobody went bonkers—I even found a place we could stop for breakfast on the way. You name it, I had it covered.
So, I'm a bit of an organizer. There are worse traits.
We packed the car the night before and Troy made the comment that I must've done a much better job at not overpacking this time, because the rooftop carrier actually had a little room it it. Yay, me!
We got to Delaware without a hitch. The breakfast was good, no major traffic, the girls were well behaved.
Remember when Troy was bragging about that extra rooftop carrier space? Yeah, we left the pool/beach toy bag sitting at home in the garage.