We leave in fourteen minutes. Up before the sun, I've spent the morning alternating between getting ready and panicking that I'm forgetting something. Or lots of things. We're off to church for the annual Palm Sunday pancake breakfast, which requires us to bring a crockpot of gluten-free pancakes for four-sixths of us, plus a couple people at church. The bread will be done baking just in time to cart the steaming loaf to the car, leaving it in charge of a child who will not drop nor eat the bread on the way to church. Once at church, I will set up my computer to continuously play the cutest Easter story ever, then will partake of a hearty breakfast with wonderful people. I also find myself in charge of part of the craft portion of the morning, then rush up to a quick choir rehearsal before worship begins.
We're leaving in nine minutes. One child has yet to shower because another is taking her time in the bathroom. The cats have yet to be fed. Children have seemed to forgotten to get dressed. My cup of coffee sits cold and lonely on the stool in front of me. My mind races through the day ahead. After worship we partake of more yummy food and fellowship, then head to my parents' house, where I will attempt to rest, perhaps nap, in preparation for what is to come.
We leave in five minutes. The teen has just gotten into the shower. This does not bode well, as he's the one who, like his mother, would be content to stand under the water for hours. I realize I should call my husband at work to remind him to come straight to my parents' house after work, and to fill the car up with gas on the way, but that will have to wait until he's on break. He'll pick me up at my parents' house, where we'll leave the kids for the night as we head on our seven-hour-if-we're-lucky trek to Pennsylvania. We should arrive around midnight, at which time I will fall thankfully into bed and hopefully sleep soundly for six or seven hours.
The next morning will be a flurry of activity, with paperwork to fill out and papers to be signed. Then we drive my parents'car, which we've borrowed for the trip, and the new-to-us car my in-laws have blessed us with, back to Connecticut. racing a potential snowstorm. We will spend more hours on the road than with my in-laws. We will spend more hours sleeping than awake at my in-laws' house.
We were supposed to leave two minutes ago. The bread is finally done and the shower just turned off. We may leave the house eventually. I take some deep breaths, enjoy a rare moment of quiet in the house, and then start packing up the computer so we can hit the road.
These next two days will be pure insanity.