Just Getting Out the Door...

when we are leaving on vacation is really difficult. I have spent a lifetime of racing to be the last to board a plane and leaving on road trips three hours after the appointed departure time and therefore pitching a tent in the dark. I hate this. Part of me wants to be one of those people who pack a few days ahead of time and waits at the gate for 45 minutes before the boarding begins. But part of me hates the idea of being so type A about just getting there. I hate to leave a cushion of time. If I was "together" (such a wonderfully clear and ridiculous euphemism) and spent 45 minutes at the gate before boarding, what would I be missing out on? Talking with a friend? A bubble bath? Sleep? Reading on extra chapter with Sumner?

On Thursday Phil and I were planning on picking his parents up at the airport and heading up to New Hampshire. It was Sumner's last day of school and we thought that we were in pretty good shape to pick his parents up in the early afternoon. We made lists, long ones, all week long. We assigned times to the tasks on the list. We slotted them into time periods. These are our best strategies for getting stuff done. My bag was nearly packed the night before and Philip had done what he calls his "mental packing". That means he knew what he was going to put in his bag and was ready to approach his closet and get to it (versus approaching his closet and at that moment start pondering what it means to go on vacation and what he might need to wear for the experience). We had pulled out all of the stops--we thought.

We used to not employ all of these fail safes when we were heading out on a trip and the result was that we would leave a messy house in hurry and a panic and leave several key things behind every time. But we are getting better. Since we have been improving, we see how horrible things used to be and what we can aspire to be. Now that we have our eyes on the prize, which was once an illusive phantom, we want it desperately. So when we fail, we take ourselves more seriously.

Stuff came up. I probably shouldn't have done a craft with Sumner's class on Wednesday morning or gone shopping to fill in a few holes in my wardrobe. It may not have been the best idea for Phil to IM with Ajay late Wednesday night. Did I really need to sleep that extra half hour on Thursday morning? We also kept missing slotted times to get the van cleaned and so it was left until Thursday morning. One more thing to fit into a full morning.

I dropped Sumner off at school, while Philip tried to take care of some businessy-things at home and execute the actual pack. The detail shop that usually cleans the van was busy, so, running out of time, I overrode my preference to get the car taken care of just so by my shop. I took it to a regular car wash that happens to vacuum interiors. They did it in no time, but as I drove home I realized the interior was hardly cleaned--sand was still all over the place. So I took it back to have them give it another go. After another 10 minutes with it they returned it to me still dirty. So this picky white woman asked them to do it a final time. Finally it was done right and I rushed home. I digress.

This fiasco ate up most of our morning and we both still had long lists of things to get done. We fed the kids and plopped them in front of the TV and ran around the house trying to get everything done. At one point I saw Phil sprinting past the window. I thought he must be racing to save a standard poodle from the jaws of a lion, but then it dawned on me that he was just trying to get the bikes on the back of the car in a speedy way. Meanwhile I was trying to put away every little bit of clutter that remained out and pack food and finish one last load of laundry and pack all of our meds and toiletries. It was the usual rush. We were 30 minutes late to pick up Lynn and Rick. Neither of us had showered for two days. Ramona wouldn't wear the cute outfit I had planned for her. But the house was picked up and I only forgot a few major things. This was a small victory. Will we ever avoid the rush? Will we ever see "together"? And truly, how together do we want to do?