Off we go

By the time you read this I'll be at the airport nursing my first vodka tonic.

I've done everything I can think of to do, even getting my toes painted. (I cleaned the bathrooms first, Liz.) (AND I changed the sheets.) I'm tired and sweaty and almost, dare I say it?,. EXCITED about my little plane ride tomorrow. It's so much more fun to experience things with Jack (and it will be with Molly too, once she reaches the age where she doesn't try to experience everything by putting it in her mouth) and I seriously can't wait to see him toting around his Thomas the Tank Engine backpack. I may die of cuteness.

Or, alternately, I will be nursing my fifth vodka tonic while my sleep-deprived monster child slowly destroys our collective wills to live. Guess we'll find out!

Anyway, I shall be making good use of Phillip's laptop and Phillip's iPhone and other Phillip-related gadgets (although he FORGOT to "borrow" the thingy that makes the internet work wherever you happen to be, HARRUMPH) if only so my mother will have pictures to look at while she mopes around waiting for her fan club to return. I know YOU don't care, but I am excited to Blog! The! Trip!

(Although I've been wondering WHY I am excited to update Twitter every ten minutes with news of our trip: "Going to a Chinese buffet!" "Going to another Chinese buffet!" "I slept through the Blue Man Group!" "Nickel slots at the airport!" because, really, NO ONE CARES. I know this, and yet I am still! so! excited!)

I shall go ponder that while eating my new favorite food in the universe, Greek yogurt with Splenda, and watching TV while Phillip wipes down the kitchen. I'll leave you with pictures my mom sent me today, from when the kids were MedEvac'd to her house last week to escape the 100+ temps. (Hence the plastered-down-by-sweat hairdo and soaked clothes.)


I just LOOK like I'm trying to pull myself up. Do not be deceived. You will still be carrying me around princess-style until I'm seventeen.


I will tip this bucket over my head over and over and over, but I will shriek with pain the moment you try to dip me in the hotel pool. Just go ahead and TRY.

Say a few prayers for my tin can, okay Internet? And I can't wait to post about how Jackson is fretting about all the little papers on the sidewalk and "Uh oh! Dropped it!" and "Pick up! Pick up!" and "WAAAAH! I want to pick up!". YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT.

In which I write a blog post about nothing instead of exercising

 Okay, here's what's happening:

We're leaving our house at 5:30. We won't get the kids up until the last possible second, and we'll put them, pajamas and all, in the car. I hear you about dressing them the night before, but I'd rather wash and dress them at the airport. We'll have a few minutes to kill and with Grandma available this shouldn't be difficult. I'll put the pajamas in the carry on bag which I was planning to do anyway.

Then we'll head to the airport parking lot, which isn't an official airport parking lot, which means it's a five or ten minute drive from the airport and we don't have enough time for 1) Phillip to drop me off, go back to the parking lot, take the shuttle back or 2) Phillip to get lost because THAT IS WHAT WOULD HAPPEN. He needs me. My nose is so big because it has a bit of iron in the tip which makes me a Human Compass.

Besides. The grandparents decided to meet us at the parking lot instead of the check in counter and you guys, it seems like anything is possible when Grandma is around.

The kids stayed the night with said grandparents last night which means I have most of the day to get ready. So of course I bound out of bed, heart racing, at six thirty. That's just the way I am. It'd be more helpful if I were, say, doing a load of laundry instead of blogging, but that is ALSO the way I am. I have priorities.

Speaking of priorities, I'm trying to decide if I can squeeze a pedicure into my day. I can, if I maybe squeeze out "cleaning our bathroom". But then I hear this little voice in my head shrieking, "You want to PAY someone to PAINT YOUR TOENAILS which no one is going to notice except for YOU?!?!" Should I silence that voice and waltz into the nearest Pretty Nails or is a clean bathroom more important? OH THE DILEMMA.

I still have to pack. For everyone. And shoot, Phillip hasn't even picked out clothes (I will pick out my children's clothes but Phillip is a big boy.) The kitchen is a mess. I have laundry. I have to go to the bank and Toys R Us and the post office. And before all of that I have to drive my husband to the Office Of Taking All Our Money on campus so he can pay his first tuition bill (and also sign some papers for financial aid). This gives me a teensy weensy stomachache.

Aaaand I just wrote three giant paragraphs on a blog post I read yesterday. A blog post I wouldn't link to because I was Indignant and Critical and I didn't want there to be, you know, proof or anything that I was indignant and critical. Which is not the right way to go about things, so: DELETE! The general gist of my three paragraphs were: Why are many Christians so afraid of and/or unwilling to engage with The World? Now THERE'S a blog post, eh? Go ahead and steal it, because my brain is only running on hamster fumes at the moment.