We Be Trippin'
Photo credit: Chrissi Nerantzi
So tomorrow we'll take off on the annual four-hour trek to Missouri to spend Thanksgiving with our extended families. That means right now, at this very minute, I should totally be catching up on laundry and packing suitcases instead of writing this blog. But ... you know. Whatever.
It's okay because by this point, I have packing down to a science. I'm pretty much the only person who packs our stuff. Curtis is capable of packing his own, but sometimes the dude needs some guidance because he is the hugest diva when it comes to suitcases. Seriously.
Here's how the contents of each suitcase - a mere weekend's worth of stuff - would lay out if everyone were left to pack their own:
Curtis - A couple pairs of jeans. Four or five t-shirts. Three pairs of shoes. No socks, because he always forgets them, resulting in him wearing the same crusty pair for the entire weekend. A pair of khaki pants and a button-up shirt and a tie "just in case." Make that four pairs of shoes because if he's gonna bring a nice outfit, he needs his dress shoes. And another button-up shirt or two in case something happens to the others. Two or three pairs of underwear which are totally pointless because he wears them until they're literally just some tattered fabric hanging from an elastic waistband, but you didn't hear that from me. Toothbrush, hair brush, cologne, body spray, toothpaste, mouthwash, razor, shaving cream, deodorant, dental floss, hair gel, contact solution, tooth whitening kit, eyebrow wax. Phone charger, alarm clock, some toothpicks, and whatever other randomness he can grab and toss in that bad boy. And now that he's grown facial hair, he'd probably pack every beard-and-moustache-trimming apparatus in the house. (Apparently even lumberjack-esque appearances require upkeep.)
Colin - Three pairs of underwear, but ONLY the Spider-Man boxer briefs because the other kind result in squirmy dances and indignant howls of, "My peeeeniiiiiis!" A pair of jeans or two, a few of the shirts that he always wants to wear to school but I won't let him (i.e., the basketball shirt that he outgrew two years ago, or the one with a huge stain). Pens and Post-It notes. His mini-stapler. A notebook or three. As many rolls of Scotch tape as he can get his hands on. His suitcase would look like a portable Office Depot ... with underwear.
Cameron - His favorite Super Mario Bros. pajamas. His Mario figurines. His laminated Luigi paper doll. Every other bit of Super Mario paraphernalia he can rummage out of the toybox. And whatever paper product he happens to enjoy eating (yes, eating) at the time.
Coby - His cowboy costume from Halloween. Cowboy boots. Cowboy hat. If he has those three things, the buckaroo trifecta, he's satisfied.
Corbin wouldn't pack anything, because like ... babies can't pack.
So yeah. That's why it's all up to Mom when it comes to gathering necessities into suitcases. I not only have to remember everything everybody needs on a daily basis, but also prepare for a variety of potential catastrophes by bringing "incidentals" like extra Pull-Ups and Super Glue (because y'all remember what happened last time). It's a good thing I have mad packing skillz.*
*Except for recently when I forgot to pack any socks for the baby. Oh, or the time when it was like thirty degrees outside and I forgot the kids' jackets. Sometimes I forget things, okay? *
*Except for my stretchy fat-girl pants. I'd never forget those. Especially at Thanksgiving.
Guess I'd better get to it. Happy turkey day*, everybody!
*Or turducken. Or tofurkey. Or whatever you're eating.