Chaos in a box

Packing.  I've learned to hate it.  What's worse than packing?  Packing with a diva toddler, rolly polly 7 month old, and my husband who gets distracted by anything sparkle-y.  (I do to...you can see how well this is going already can't you?)

We started packing our living room earlier this week.  What started as cleaning out the coat closet has turned into 1/2 the bathroom, 1/2 kitchen, 1/2 living room and 1/2 of Bee's room packed.  I would have to stop what I was doing to re-direct toddler traffic or cook dinner.  Then I turn around to find Husby.  He is in the bedroom, baffled by his new found discoveries he made in the closet/bathroom/wherever.  "I've been looking for this for ages!"  And he plays  tinkers becomes a lost cause.

Giving up on his brute strength to help me, I try to organize the already packed boxes.  Much to my dismay I see every box he has labeled says "crap"; "random"; "stuff".  WHAT ON EARTH AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?!  I ask him what it means.  "I don't know, how am I supposed to remember?"  Great.  I am so glad I married a genius.

Five days later I take complete advantage of his leaving to golf and both kiddos napping.  I pack up almost everything in the kitchen except plastic ware and one casserole dish.  Bless Husby's heart, he goes to heat up a burrito but can't find a thing to microwave it in.  Apparently a plastic plate or Rubbermaid container isn't good enough.  Since when did he get fancy?  He ate Doritos crumbs off his STOMACH not three days earlier.  Whatever.

Tomorrow I plan on finishing up the kid's rooms.  Wish this Mama luck!

If I had a billion dollars, I would hire someone to do this 'mess' they call moving,
Summer