OK, it’s getting serious. Only 30 days until we pack the tiny family Fiesta and head west to Texas for WrestleMania, baby!
For most normal people, the 30-day-out marker would be a good time to maybe kind of start thinking about what you might want to take. But, as you should have learned by now, we’re not quite dealing with normal here.
I give you a conversation that happened three weeks ago for example:
Justin: “Where’s my Macho Man shirt?”
Me: “I’m actually embarrassed to tell you.”
Justin: “It’s because you’ve already packed it, haven’t you?”
When it comes to packing, I have no chill. Apparently in my mind, a two-hour road trip is akin to a journey on the Oregon Trail and we’ll need everything but the kitchen sink (wait, hell, might as well take it too. Just put it by the spare spare tire.) Also hopefully no one gets dysentery. Not to worry though, I’ve got wipes and a first aid kit just in case.
I would love to blame this over packing tendency on being a mom and it has actually gotten a little worse since Brody’s arrival, but I’ve always had this issue. Since I was a kid, I’ve kept detailed lists and planned for months for every trip I’ve ever been on. Like most of my neuroses, there’s no rhyme or reason for it, but it’s here, so best just learn to deal with it.
My main problem lies in deciding what I’m going to want to wear once we reach our destination. Since watching wrestling is our only scheduled trip activity, you would think this would be a fairly simple decision this time around. But nope, we’re still a month away and I’ve already spent more time thinking about what I’m wearing to WrestleMania than I did for prom. And I went to three of those damn things. Watching Ambrose vs. Lesnar is considerably more appealing than attempting to dance to “No Diggity” with a date you barely know in a high school commons area though. What pants to wear with my Shield shirt is a major decision.
I would also love to say all this early packing results in a stress free trip for all involved, but no such luck. More often than not I end up getting completely overwhelmed and just start throwing things in a suitcase the night before we leave. We reach our destination with formal wear but no toothbrushes or underwear. It’s solid planning.
And I won’t even get into my road trip snack list. That one’s a doozy, but if the three of us are expected to tolerate each other for a nine hour road trip, it’s an important doozy.