When it comes to packing for a trip I always put it off until the night before we go. In the week leading up to that, though, I do a lot of talking about packing, thinking about packing, worrying about what to pack, kicking myself for being such a packing procrastinator, waking up in the middle of several nights thinking about packing. It's ridiculous.
Today, while driving home in the sunshine after two kid free hours getting my hair cut and running errands, I heard my packing nag voice start up. I told her to shut up, that it isn't easy to pack for a family of four for two weeks. She told me to stop being such a freak, to pretend I was packing for just myself for a tropical island getaway to make it fun, to do things in stages, to be thankful that I get to be in paradise with my family.
So, when I got home I set the girls up with an art project in their room and focused on packing for just me! The me that easily gets sucked into the swirl of what everyone around me needs and loses track of herself.
I laid it all out on my bed, thought about what I really needed to bring and what I could live without. It was a simple and small gift to myself.
I'm still faced with reality. The miscellaneous snorkel gear and floaties that need to be sorted out, the lost pink crock that needs to be found, the not-so-orderly pile of stuff accumulating in our bedroom,
but now I'm not overwhelmed. Small gift. Big lesson.
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