Jory packed - Check

Jory is officially packed for the ATL. Yes, I know what you’re saying, you don’t leave until June 30th so why is he packed by May 29th? An interesting dilemma came up.

My mom was complaining about how everyone was packed and had been packed for our family reunion and how I hadn’t even started.

When are you going to start packing?

You know time is approaching.

It will be the end of June shortly, look how quickly May went by.

I was like, are you kidding me? I didn’t say those exact words to her, but something to that effect. Can I concentrate on the here and now, not an event taking place over a month from now?

Why can’t you start packing for them?

I can’t pack for them because their shorts our in the garage, where they go every September until they stop wearing uniforms.

You know you have to get their suitcases out of the garage. When are you doing to do that?

I’m going to get the suitcases the same time I get the clothes out of the garage.

On and on it went. Finally I decided what was more important me digging my heels in on something not that important, cause part of me wanted to wait until the week before to pack, or me doing something to put my mother at ease. I went with the later. If it gave her peace if I packed TTT now, then that’s what I would do. I would show her love by giving into her insane idea. Does she not remember that this time last year we were coming back from Alaska and I didn’t pack a month in advance for TTT? No, she doesn’t remember that.

Sometimes I think she thinks three kids are overwhelming so whatever is overwhelming for her, must of course be overwhelming for me. Uh, hello, I wouldn’t have three kids if I thought I would be overwhelmed. I still remember very clearly having twin one-year-old daughters screaming as I dressed them for bed and knowing I was at my limit. But bygones.

On Sunday, I went out to the garage to pull out the container with the shorts in it, only to find that when my mom and Eric reorganized the garage they didn’t leave a clear path to get to the back of the garage. Are you kidding me?! As junky and as crowded as that garage has been with her two sets of patio furniture (it was such a good deal), the jeep, the motorcycle, the wagon, her dead baby daddy law books and fun reading books, furniture she can’t get rid of, paperwork and games I can’t get rid of, there was always a path to the containers in the back.

I reminded myself as to why I was doing this and persevered. TTT’s Oma came out and I just asked her to help me move some things and mentioned to her about the non-clear path to the containers. We move the few items and I was able to reach over and open the container on top, which should have been the shorts except it wasn’t. Nope, it was a Christmas container. So there was no clear path to the back of the garage and now the containers were out of order. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! She went back in the house to see how many suitcases were in the house. I’m glad she did, I wasn’t a happy camper to see the containers were mixed up.

I stood there for a while, contemplating my next step. Do I stay the course? The goal was to show her love by putting her mind at ease by packing early. Or did I give up and go back in the house and say forget this. I wasn’t really in the mood to be in an awkward position while trying to find the right containers. I stood for another a minute. Then another. Then another. Then another. My back was starting to hurt, but I decided to stay the course. Gotta keep my eye on the prize. I found the container and after dumping them into several bags with Jory’s help, we took the clothes and sandals (I didn’t even remember that I saved last year’s sandals just in case they could still wear them.) inside the house. I took all the suitcases out and laid them out in the sun to get some air.

Much to her chagrin and par the course that if I don’t do things her way or the way she suggests then I’ve done them wrong, I didn’t wash the clothes. They were packed where nothing could get into them, and had fabric softener and pieces of zest in the containers. I felt they just need to be thrown in the dryer and put on air fluff for twenty minutes, so that’s what I did.

I decided to start with Jory, trying on the shorts I bought at the end of the summer on sale. Thank God for adjustable waists because Jory wouldn’t have been able to wear the majority of his new shorts. Even some of them have to go back out to the garage because the adjustable waist has some of his shorts look funky in the back with all the gathered material. My boy is getting taller not so much bigger. All of his new t-shirts still too big, no mediums for us yet, so they have to go back. Then I noticed that some of his new shorts were plaid and a lot of shirts are plaid, two sets of plaids that don’t match. When I marry well, after I design handbags, I’m going to design children’s clothes and just make them in solid colors, with no emblems on them or “cute” sayings or designs on them, just shirts and shorts in solid colors. Sometimes I just want to buy my kids’ a shirt in one solid color that’s it, nothing more, nothing less. But I digress.

Jory was mostly a trooper with all the clothes. Most of the clothes met with Oma’s approval, so we’re taking those. Sometimes the path of least resistances makes everyone’s lives so much smoother. I put his outfits together, he got his underwear, he’s really into this packing thing. I should have let him pack himself. Oh, there’s time for that when he’s older. I added a pair of swim trunks because Oma was freaking out a little at the thought of leaving them out. I thought it would be okay so he could switch off between trunks when he went to swimming lessons, but I had to keep the goal in mind so I let him choose which pair to put in the suitcase. Other than taking out an outfit to wear once we get to the hotter than a banshee Atlanta, my baby boy Jory is all finished. Tonight, on to the girls. I hate that I couldn’t find them more matching tops. On a trip and they are going to be dressed like two random girls. Thanks a lot Eve for making life so difficult.