Eating a really beautiful dinner in a swank restaurant is ridiculously complicated when your right wrist/arm is in an immobilizing brace.
In a giant ‘fuck you universe’/'I will survive, bitches!’, I bought 2 knitting books at the bookstore next door after dinner.
I’m head-in-sanding about some things (shut up, it’s a perfectly valid coping mechanism) and thinking about our potential late fall dare I say it VACATION which will involve some quality time with a large squeaky mouse.
Oh my god, their website? Is unnavigable and confusing and infuriating and holy SHIT will it really cost nearly $1000 for freaking tickets to the park for 4 adults and a kid NO BLEEPING WAY.
Am I so blazingly incompetent that I really cannot operate a website for an experience that’s related to my career field? Really?
To quote an email from a friend.
So there was this trip, see? And then there was another trip. And a bigass meeting. And now another trip- I’m in a hotel for a night- and there was this illness, and this whol dramallamadingdong at school, and tears and recriminations.
Thank god next weekend is a 3 day weekend. And, conveniently, my birthday!
Someone please send me a nap wrapped up in a big bow.
The invention of downloadable children’s programming coupled with a video iPod makes me feel:
a. Like an effing genius for helping to get the Precious for the Lad for Christmuskah and revelling in sweet blessed absence of whining
b. Like the worst parent ever, resorting to such tactics
c. Like I am raising a horrific pop culture whore
d. Like stabbing every football-headed girl named ‘Dora’ I meet
e. All of the above
So LPG and I were conversing during setup for the Unholy Hell Which Can Be A Four Year Old’s Birthday Party, about what should my nickname be- Rommel (no, that associates me with a nazi) or Hannibal (no, people would think Lechter) because of my compulsive- nay, psychotic- organizational abilities (which allowed us to deploy an entire pirate themed party in a park shelter- including unpacking the car- in precisely 27 minutes, leaving us to sit around on our asses for 20 and come up with all manner of nightmare scenarios of 4 year olds roving about singing ‘there’s gonna be a rumble!’. And then it was all cleaned up in- I shit you not- 7 minutes.) What she perhaps doesn’t realize is I don’t just sit down and come up with all this stuff and achieve it. Oh no. I obsess for weeks about what all organizational juju I will need to muster to tackle Ridiculous Project, whether it’s SWAT teaming for a birthday party or, god help me, this coming weekend.
All of that is a fancy lead in for, in essence, my to do list, which ranks right above poorly animated tarot card memes in lameness, but dude, it’s an update, and it explains my mental state.
The trip
You know. Far be it from us to just, say, take the Small Man on a plane and go on a trip. See, that alone would involve planning. Or to just throw him in the car and take him on a trip. Or take him to his grandparents and hand him over. OR take him to a formal event.
Instead, we’re combining all 4 into one, 4 day period. We are flying to DC, the next day we put him in the rental car and drive 3.5 hours to Pennsylvania, wherein we meet up with the Lad’s parents who will be camping. They will take him off our hands AFTER a wedding rehearsal, only to show up with him again the next day just in time for us to slap formal clothes on him so he can be the ringbearer. We will then valiantly, through the power of our minds, get him to behave during an entire wedding ceremony. He’ll camp with his grandparents that night, and the next day there’s the handoff, and we drive BACK to DC and fly home.
Did I mention the wedding is King of the Hill People’s? And that his posse for this is the Lad as best man, Zombie King as a groomsman, and Matilda and I as groomschicks?
The stuff
And so here it is. In all of its stultifying horror: my packing list. Thank you, intarwebs, for replacing ‘a fucking sheet of notebook paper’, and allowing me to bore dozens to tears with my inanity. Truly, you are a marvel of human ingenuity.
Carry on:
Laptops: his, hers. Joy! Allowing us to look up directions and kill time between appointments and wedding with raiding on WoW. What? Like you wouldn’t blow off steam in a boss battle?
iPods. His, hers. Hers: filled with emo music (note to self, rip All American Rejects tonight. move along!). His: shamefully filled with Dora the Explorer and Wonderpets episodes in order to amuse the moppet.
Oh shit, pack headphones for moppet from moppet’s CD player.
Snacks for moppet.
Snacks for moppet.
Did I mention snacks for moppet?
Knitting- artyarns regal silk clapotis, for those of you playing along at home
Folder of 3 kerjillion maps
Folder of 3 kerjillion bits of important hotel, rental car, campground info.
Cellphones. His. Hers. Moppets. No no! Just kidding.
Precious stuffed animal of moppet’s choosing. Lemur? Whale shark? Who knows!
Medicines. His. Hers. Moppets. Oh crap, can’t put moppet’s in carryon, too big a bottle. Curse you, TSA.
Advil.
Tums.
Kleenex
Protein bar
Hash brownies.
Surprise! leapster cartridge.
Leapster, so that I won’t freak out should the roller bag below be misplaced.
Speshul Moppet Roller Backpack
Surprise Toys and Gizmos
Paper
Crayons
Quaaludes.
Moppetsnax.
Small roller suitcase:
Moppet outfit for Sunday
2 sets moppet PJs
Moppet t-shirt and shorts for Saturday
Moppet t-shirt and shorts for when he destroys Saturday’s outfit #1
Moppet pants for when moppet bitches he’s cold
Moppet fleece
Moppet drugs
Moppet HBA items.
Moppet blankie (one, two, three…awwww!)
Big suitcase:
good clothes for Friday night (his, mine)
Shitty clothes for Saturday day
Decent but comfortable clothes for Sunday brunch then drive back and plane flight home.
Clothes for Friday day
Swimsuit (his)
Swimsuit (moppet)
Moppet PJs for Thursday night
Moppet undies! and socks!
And more socks.
And more socks.
Moppet FANCY outfit for weddin!
Moppet belt for weddin!
Moppet shooz for weddin!
Moppet socks for weddin!
Grooms Party Emergency kit: one ziplock containing tums, advil, kleenex, and men’s dress socks. To be acquired in DC or PA: Cigars and Booze (we’re class like that, yo)
Bridesmaid’s/Groomschick’s dress
Bra for said dress
Clear plastic straps for bra for said dress
Low back converter for bra for said dress
Strappy sandals for said dress
Undergarments for said dress
Makeup, to go with said dress
Hair styling product to go with said dress
A wing and a fucking prayer, for said dress
Black wrap
Manilla envelopes marked ‘Car trip 1′, ‘Car trip 2′ and ‘Car trip 3′, each containing Speshul Magical Objects of Kiddie Joy, to be slipped into his rollerbag at the appropriate times.
Chargers for cellphones, laptops, and iPod.
Possibly Rhino (stuffed animal as large as the child, but flatter)
Gift tags and bags
HBA items
Sense of humor
Frisbee thingy
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you SCIENCE
Teaser headline in the New York Times:
“Solving the mystery of duck genitalia”
God I love research.