(Photo Credit: Kimona Paramour Photography)
I only work once every two weeks. Since most people at my job work every other weekend, I see the same group almost every Friday night. When I work an extra shift, like I did this past weekend, I see people I sometimes haven’t seen in 6 months or more.
The nurse I was getting report from hadn’t seen me in at least that long. I’d been pregnant with number seven the last time we’d crossed paths.
She gave me a once over and commented that I’d lost a lot of weight. It didn’t sound like a compliment. Then, she asked if I’d had a boy or a girl.
Years ago, I got my first raincoat as an adult. I was shopping with my mom and it was light blue.
I never really loved it. It felt too heavy when it was warm, and not warm enough for a cold rain. I kept for several years and finally donated it so that I could find one I liked better.
Since then, I have purchased many different parkas and raincoats trying to find the perfect one. A green one with black polka dots. A blue with white polkadots. A pink and greige one with a pretty, multicolored tie on the zipper but sleeves that were just a little too short. A gently used, expensive yellow one from eBay that ended up being worn around the collar and wasn’t waterproof anymore (which was NOT mentioned in the listing). A brown one that folded up into its own pocket. A blue parka. A shiny iridescent raincoat that I overpaid for on a third party website since it was out of stock with the manufacturer, and then ended up not being what I thought it was going to be. A black one on super sale from the Nat Geo website. A cute vintage red parka a blogger featured. And none of those is counting the cool green parka my dad made when he was younger for my mom, which got passed on to me.
Now, let’s talk about the weather where I live.
My dad is a lean, mean, packing machine, and I like to think I got those genes from him. I get a kick out of planning and packing efficiently, and love arriving at a location when everything I need and nothing more.
I also struggle with self doubt and the tendency to want be over-prepared.
Cylon and I have been doing our big trip to Tobago since about a year and a half after we got married. This summer we’ll have been married for 12 years. We have agreed that we can’t remember how many times we have made the trip, but are pretty sure this is #9.
I mentioned in my post about packing for travel with kids that I have lists detailing what each person in the family needs for the trip. I edit and hone them every time we come down.
The lists only work when I use them.
This morning I was awake and downstairs by 6:30 a.m., listening to Pentatonix Christmas and making lasagna.
It is a bit of a heavy burden I put on myself to make Christmas amazing, because I remember how amazing it was for me as a kid. My mom put up decorations every year. There were Christmas cookies and caroling, and hot chocolate in the church basement afterward that would melt the plastic spoons we used to stir the cocoa with.
Dad always took the kids to get a tree, and we would choose the biggest one we could get away with. When we got home and put it up, we would watch with glee as someone cut the net off of the tree and its branches bounced down to take up a quarter of our living room. We would all shrug and grin and tell Mom the tree hadn’t looked that big at the tree farm.
