Mississippi Road Trip: The day before departure

Why are there always a million things to do the day before a vacation?

Stop mail, withdraw cash from bank, empty trash cans, empty compost bin, empty recycling empty dishwasher, pay credit card, do four loads of laundry, return 20 overdue library books, get keys to three different families taking care of the cat, plant sunflowers that should have been put into the ground two weeks ago, download contacts onto new iPhone, mail deposit check for new preschool starting in fall, fill out forms for kids' summer camp—the list of things I had to do on the Friday before leaving on our trip was absurd. To top it off, my daughter had a dance camp recital that afternoon and we needed to drop by a friend's birthday party that night.

If I were more organized, I would have taken care of most of these obligations days ago. (At least I had started packing the bags a week ahead.) And if I were smart, I would have let some of these things go.

All day, I ran around in a tizzy. My dear husband stayed home from work to help me prepare and kept saying, "Slow down!" But I never listened. I was on a mission.

The kids and I made a run to Target. I whizzed down the aisles, randomly tossing stuff for the trip into the basket. I didn't even think to check the size on the swimsuit I bought for my daughter (two sizes too big!) and I stupidly purchased her a T-shirt for the trip that must be hand-washed. I was getting things done (in an unthinking manner).

Later that evening at the birthday party, a woman came up to me and said, “I saw you in Target. You were screaming at your kids.”

The next morning we somehow got ourselves together and met a cab in front of our house at 4:30 a.m. Our San Francisco block was dark and quiet.

The airport, on the other hand, was as busy as a beehive. People were buzzing about everywhere. The line to check in at the Northwest counter was at least a quarter-mile-long. Angry travelers stood in line checking their watches. A father screamed and shook his arms at a ticket agent, his son watching on in bewilderment. I was about to loose it myself but then an attendant directed us to a shorter line for people hoping to the make the 6:30 a.m. flight to Minneapolis.

We were just about to step into the security line, which was long, of course, and Dante announced that he had to go the bathroom, “Now!”

“Can’t you hold it?”

“Now, Mommy!” he said shaking his hips back and forth and holding his crotch. We rushed into the bathroom, his sister tagging along.

I tore off Dante’s pants and threw him onto the toilet. I was determined to get in and out fast—and back in that security line.

And that’s when Paris said, “Mom, why are we in the boys restroom?”

“What?”

“We’re in the boy’s restroom.”

“We’re not in the boy’s restroom.”

“Mom when we walked in there was a man peeing into one of those things.”

I couldn’t control my laughter. My daughter was horrified but I just kept laughing.

The kids opened the bathroom door where four men were standing peeing into the urinals. I grabbed the kids’ hands and we rushed by, but after that I decided to slow down a little and actually pay attention to what I'm doing.

Do you ever feel as if you have a million things to do the day before leaving on a trip?