…It’s harder on trips.
So we’ve either been going out of town or I’ve been sick for the past three weeks. Or I’ve been sick while we’ve been out of town, which was the case this weekend. I’m wrapping up my full-time work at the TV station this week. There has been a lot of family time and even more coming up. And it’s the holly, jolly holiday season.
What I’m trying to say is: I’ve been stressed.
So before I even start what I’m about to say, I just want to put it out there that it could be me.
(But it probably isn’t.)
I have a wonderful husband. The best. No, really – you should be completely jealous. Sometimes I am shocked that this wonderful person has picked me to hang out with. You know, for-EV-er.
But sometimes, I want to kick him in the shins.
And those times are almost always when we are on a trip.
Packing for a trip is a lot more difficult for me now that I am packing for Tom too. As any parent can tell you, it truly takes about 127 items to take your baby with you overnight somewhere. Because I know this, and because I know I tend to take everything on myself, and because I know that those two things mean I get – shall we say: a teensy bit on the stressed side – I have made an effort to delegate.
My life partner. My sweet. My love.
My husband who does not do a single thing I have asked.
Doesn’t he know I’m in charge?! I’m pretty sure I worked that into our marriage vows.
This weekend was Tom’s Baptism. Because we wanted my Grandmother to be able to attend, that meant we had to travel 2.5 hours to my parent’s farm. We were to leave on Saturday morning and return Sunday afternoon.
I began making the list of everything I would need on Wednesday.
I began doing as much laundry as I could in preparation for the trip, and the missing of my laundry days, on Thursday.
I began packing everything I could on Friday.
And then right before I went to sleep on Friday, I asked Kevin if he could do two things: Pack Huck’s stuff and move the laundry from the washer to the dryer.
What did he do instead?
Read a book about water.
The book has a title but I don’t know what it is. What I can tell you is that the book doesn’t magically pack Huck’s stuff or move laundry to the dryer.
“Luckily” for Kevin, Tom woke me up in the middle of the night and I happened to go downstairs and I happened to realize he didn’t move the clothes over so I did it.
And then on Saturday morning I packed Huck’s stuff while Kevin slept.
And then I nagged him about it the entire 2.5 hours down there.
And then he sighed at me.
And if you know Kevin, you know that is his way of voicing his major annoyance with me.
And then I smiled to myself.
Because you don’t have to do what I say.
My sweet. My love.
But it’s the only way to get me to shut up.