As I write this, I have a bird's eye view of the kitchen where my fridge is sporting no fewer than five lists. Lists for what to pack, what to serve each meal, what to turn off, or on, before we leave. No where, on any of those lists, does it mention packing an extra dose of patience, but I know I'm going to need it. Patience or more alcohol than any human should endeavour to consume in one weekend.
My youngest started with the, "how many more sleeps?" question about seventeen sleeps ago. My eldest (she's a type A personality) has every nano second planned and organized right down to when she and I will play Uno at 7:15 on Friday evening. I contemplated packing a couple of juicy novels for my own reading pleasure, but who am I kidding, I won't have the chance to read.
I was revamping our first aid kit in preparation for our foray into the wilderness. I chuckled at the limited first aid kit my hubby and I had BK (before kids.) Now, I have every conceivable size band-aide, insect bite lotion, allergy medicine...you name it I've got it. Now, you might say I am being overly cautious, but you haven't met my youngest. At an early age we nicknamed him 'Crash.' If he could walk into it, trip over it, fall off of it, wedge himself under it, he'd do it. From the ages of 6 months to 4 and a half there is not a single picture where he isn't sporting a scab, bruise or scar on his head. That's my boy! A smart mom is prepared for every eventuality when she takes the family camping.
Will we have fun? Oh most definitely. Will we make memories to last a lifetime? Without a doubt. Will I need a vacation when we get home? You better believe it, but not until the laundry is done.
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