LAST MINUTE MAYHEM

Last Minute Mayhem

This was written 6 years ago.  I suspect our trip to CA this summer will be comparable. 

We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.      Proverbs 16:9

It becomes obvious to me, in these hours prior to departure, that not everyone experiences preparatory tension the way I do.

We are leaving at 4:00 a.m. for a ten-day trip to Maine.  I’ve been planning, reading tour guides, scheming, packing, and making lists for several months.  I’m running on adrenalin by this point, having finished packing list minute items and completed the cleaning of the entire house.  One can’t leave for vacation with anything out of place at home, you know.

Isaac is now 18.  It is practically incomprehensible that I have ever given birth to this big hairy teenager. He has just about mastered the task of making his compulsive mother insane.  His plan for our trip?  He will be arriving home from his girlfriend’s house at just about 15 minutes past midnight.  I remind you – we are hoping to pull out of the driveway at 4:00 a.m.  He hasn’t packed yet.  He says it is no problem to pack when he gets home.  This is the man-child who mumbles incoherently from the couch when he falls asleep from staying up too late at night.  This same man-child, who predictably whines and moans from his loft bed when I try to stir him from slumber in the morning and manages to ignore the siren volume of the ninth snooze alarm from his bedside clock.  I’m sure he will be accomplishing his post-midnight packing with the same considerate quiet he maintains when he arrives home each and every night.  We will first notice his arrival when we hear the rhythmic thud of the speakers inside his car. This chest-thudding is second only to the subwoofer residing in the trunk of my husband’s Saab.  Soon thereafter, a car door slam will follow.   The next and louder slam will come from the front door as he enters.   At some point soon to follow, there will be feet stomping up the stairs and moving items around in his bedroom that sound like granite boulders.  I’m sure nobody who has gone to bed at a decent hour in anticipation of vacation departure will notice when he gets home…  I’m trying to take deep breaths…

His father, my dear husband, has also yet to open a suitcase.  I used to pack clothes for him when we went away.  It was during one of those trips, many years ago, when he said and I quote, “You expect me to wear THAT?!”  He began (happily I might add) packing clothing for himself.  In all fairness, I’ve seen him do this ‘packing’ and am astounded and a bit envious of the way he spends a literal five minutes throwing clothing haphazardly into the tiny suitcase yet manages to remain clothed for an entire vacation without the least concern for his attire.  It’s a handy trick.  I wish I could master it. 

Aubrey is something completely different when it comes to packing.  What concerns her most of all, is that as many stuffed friends as possible be jammed into whatever traveling bag will accompany her in the car.  Putting them in her proper suitcase with her clothing would never do.  They wouldn’t be able to see anything.  Suppose they MISS something along the way?  And how to choose?  “Do you want to go?” she’ll ask the stuffed pig.  Emily the pig responds wordlessly and Aubrey continues a similar dialogue with various species of creature until all of their little stuffed bodies are squashed into her ‘car bag.’  Some come clothed and others au-natural.  All are spoiled beyond belief.  Aside from a mountain of reading material, a soft blanket, and something comfy to sleep in, not much else is required as far as she is concerned.  Mommy takes care of the rest. 

Jasmine the cat has been trying to pack herself for days.  She keeps climbing into the suitcases while I’m in ‘mid-pack.’  She wiggled her way into the green fabric duffel bag yesterday and I didn’t notice she was there.  I finished packing jackets and shoes into the bag and zipped it up.  When I was tossing the suitcases, backpacks and assorted other bags onto the pile a few minutes later, I heard a feline whimper of despair.  She was in the flung bag.  I unzipped it immediately and her little fuzzy ears and giant blue eyes poked out.  She looked at me as if I had intentionally tossed her into an abyss.  Since she is sitting contentedly purring on my lap now, I will assume I’ve been forgiven. 

I hope Isaac manages to get a little sleep as I anticipate he will be bargaining with his father for the driver’s seat before we reach New England.  I am going to bed shortly as to increase my chances of falling into some coveted R.E.M. sleep before he comes home to quietly pack his things.  I’m sure his mood will be excellent as he will have to say goodbye to his beloved girl for the 10-day vacation separation.  The newly purchased calling card won’t go far in making him feel better, but it is the best I can do.  Bar Harbor, here we come...and I hope I haven’t forgotten anything.