Grumpy on the road: I hate packing

Since I’m the default parent, I do all the packing whenever we travel. I make sure everyone has everything they need, soup to nuts, head to toe, alpha to omega.

No one does that for me. They just ask me questions and distract me. So when I was packing yesterday, I ping-pinged around the house as usual. 

Tonight as I was getting ready to jump in the shower at our hotel, I suffered the miserable realization that I failed to pack any underwear or socks for myself (all other clan members are fully stocked). I had those drawers open and was ready to pull items. But something obviously distracted me. I don’t even remember what. 

I have no clean underwear or socks. That is all. 

Grumpy on the road: airport

We’re at Chicago O’Hare waiting for our flight to California. A week in warmer climes, so I can’t complain.  But I can still be grumpy, because I had to get up at 5 am and I’ll be on an airplane for 5 hours with two kids. 

Too many grown ups at airports, especially the business travel set,  don’t respect children. It’s like they think kids aren’t actual human beings. Some guy just walked up behind Nick as we walked to our gate and got right up in his personal space, practically ramming Nick with his roller luggage and pushing Nick out of the way. I hustled Nick to the side just to keep him from being hurt. An “excuse me” would have been appropriate. Or better yet, some ordinary patience, because all this fellow was doing was walking to a chair to sit his pushy ass down and wait for the same plane as us. 

Well. I’ll take some deep breaths. Maybe not-thoughtful man will be seated in the row ahead of us. I’ll put Nick in the seat right behind him and give him a few hours to remember. Nick’s volume control button already appears to be broken.