The house is strewn with items of clothing, none of which is a) warm b) mine or c) clean. My packing deadline was six hours ago. The cat is not yet at the feline flophouse and I’m still in my pj’s. Not so good.
I have spent the day eating bread and butter, drinking cups of tea and frivolously twittering although I did spend a productive half an hour arranging the furniture in the dollhouse in a pleasing manner. I wouldn’t want our guests to think our dolls were poor housekeepers.
Husband has just telephoned to tell me he is checking in for our flights online and how many bags do I think we will have? Is that under my eyes, I want to ask? And currently the answer is none, or at least none full. I have a few suitcases open on the floor but they are all empty except for some dust and cobwebs and abandoned coins of indeterminate heritage.
I know there is an underlying psychological reason for this. It’s not very deep. It’s quite superficial actually. I don’t want to go.
I want to go back to bed and pretend that this isn’t happening.
WAHHH!
However, I’m putting some starch in my upper lip and sucking up the misery.
A giant bag of chocolate-chip infused trail mix (healthy! It’s been proven!) has assisted me in this selfless endeavour.
Later..
Husband came home and ‘helped’ me pack. This consisted of pulling out one horrific item of clothing after another from one of his mysterious boxes with oblivious delight, explaining exactly how much fun I was going to have kneeling down in the slush, making snowballs, getting wet, rolling around in ‘nature’ etc. Nothing matches. Everything smells slightly mildewy and stale or of old people and tomato soup. I am supposed to be grateful for and excited about this attire.
This part of the day was particularly difficult for me as earlier twitters only served to remind me of my former life in which I gaily gadded about Town (no, dear one, not A town like I live in now, but TOWN for real), laughingly rejected the advances of glamourous and desirable suitors, and had adventure after adventure in madcap, stoner musician style.
Now I am being forced to try on smelly old trousers with a hat that belongs on (and quite possibly to) a homeless person and being told that they SUIT ME!
I could just weep. I know I married this man because he did seem to be the one person I dated who was unaffected by my appearance, so I thought it was bankable that he would not be saddened (unlike me) when it all went haywire with age.
But I did not at any point forsee him trying to dress me like Worzel Gummidge.
Somebody please, please kill me now.
I will write again from the winter wonderland of Colorado when I have internet, chocolate and some peace. In the meantime, keep an eye on the news for giant avalanches in that part of the world.
They will have been caused by my screaming.
{ 11 comments }
Yes yes yes. So that’s another reason why I hate Skiing – I have to borrow my husband’s ski gear which is 10 times too large and as a result makes me look like a blancmange. And hobbling around in those ski boots does nothing for the look either. Pictures please…
Emily Bassin’s last blog post..Lists and things like tantrum control
Hope it’s not too horrendous!
Coding Mamma (Tasha)’s last blog post..Moving the goalposts
Be glad your mother is not a knitter- that can add worlds of pain to your packing options. Or maybe she is? My mother specializes in Nordic style sweaters – and I am suppose to remember how to say dancing girls and boys ( dansing-guh flickah something something) in Swedish and tell the story to everyone- how my mother, who no longer smokes, has to knit constantly or she will murder people just for breathing loudly- has made this great little short in the front and long in the back thing with the arms sewn on just below the armpits. In pink, gray, and blue.
I will be thinking a good thought for you on your travels.
The unreliable historian’s last blog post..More Thoughts on Parenting
I have spent most of my adult life with a suitcase half packed in case the chance of an adventure comes up. Right now if someone called with tickets to Budapest I could pack in half an hour. But that is fun packing.
Packing for your whole family for a trip you dont want to go on for a sport you dont like – that is joyless.
I think you need that electronic device you mentioned, the one your father might get you as a generous gift. The possibility of a good book at your fingertips, waiting for you after a day of suffering on the slopes, with a nice glass of wine after the children fall into an exhausted and rosy-cheeked and frostbitten-digits slumber – that might get you through.
Dont watch any Hitchcock era movies where glamourous wives pushed too far nudge their husbands off the edge of cliffs.
And instead of smelly woolen ski clothes cant you find a Bond girl worthy ski outfit? You live near LA, after all. And you will need some cute apres-ski outfits.
Clothes, books, wine – they will get you through most slow tedium.
We used to do the annual pilgrimage to worship the snow god in Colorado. The only bright side is the fireplace and the waiter who keeps pouring the brandy, just like a St. Bernard.
The Mother’s last blog post..The Gene for Common Sense is on the X Chromosome
GOOD LUCK, sister. Looking forward to more tales from Town, especially the ones about PULLING, when you get back!
Cassandra’s last blog post..The Femail of the Species
Loving the story of the packing. I used to be a whizz at packing for the family, but have got out of the habit recently and now find it tedious and am always leaving it to the last minute. I hope you find a way to enjoy your break.
brenda’s last blog post..Newborn Baby Gifts
God, I just couldn’t bear to go ski-ing – I have never yet seen anyone look sexy in salopettes.
More than Just a Mother’s last blog post..Too much information
You’ll be a snow bunny before you know it!!! Think positive…loads of hot chocolate and toasty fires!!! We’ll miss you and the family!!!
Feign a sprained ankle on the first day and spend the rest of the hol playing with the kids and drinking hot chocolate; a bit devious but desperate measures…I have no practical packing tips; I tend to avoid holidaying (sig. other has put me in charge of finding a holiday this year…big mistake, he wants “abroad”, I’ll be happy with the Scottish Aunties…gossiping and drinking tea). S#1, however, keeps a bag of toys/books/stuff packed at all times…just in case.
Katherine’s last blog post..Retro book club…
Emily. A hobbling blancmange. Exactly. This is how I look. And feel. Sigh.
Coding Mama: At least Husband allowed me to spend the first half of today unconscious in bed, so only 61/2 more to go…
U. Hist. KNITTING!? Actually my mother does like to knit but fortunately she is too far away and this is too short notice for her to come up with anything for me to wear. I think she preferred to make cute things for the kids, anyway. Whew!
Jessica: I saw a man at the airport with the Kindle2 and it looked beautiful. I am still toying with ordering one and having it delivered here but then my cover might be blown – how would dad have known the address, for example? Yes, much easier to pack for oneself for a coveted destination.. Meet me in London in a few weeks time sans enfants? I dare you!
The Mother. You understand! I am heading for the brandy NOW
MtJAM. I love your acronym. It’s like a gangsta rap mama! You are right. It’s not clever and it’s not funny. Although I must admit Four looks very fetching in her little outfit, but she manages to make everything look great. Not fair, again.
Pretty Mama. I am trying to soak up some of your amazing positivity. You continually astound me. I envy the other family in our house. They get my bed AND they get you. WAHHH
Katherine. You and I think along the same lines.. I’m waiting for a public opportunity to fall so I can garner max. sympathy.
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