First of all, let me say a big “Thank You<\/strong><\/em>” to all of you for allowing me to whine relentlessly on Friday about being all uninspired<\/a>. I’m over it. You were there. Thanky. Moving on…<\/p>\n

We just got back froma wonderful weekend in Washington State visiting family and celebrating a very<\/em>early Christmas before parts ofthe family hightail it for warmer weather and drier climate.It was a very full, fun weekend but vacations, even mini ones, always end with the requisite clean-up.And here’s where the true purpose of my post comes into play. Allow me to explain…<\/p>\n

Picture it –<\/p>\n

We’re pulling into the driveway after a long drive home. The kids have gotten a couple of good naps and are already quivering in their seats in anticipation of bursting through the front door to see their dog, Lewis, andto make sure that all their cool stuff is still where they not-so-neatly keep it.<\/p>\n

I say, “Now, remembersomething family.Everyone needs to help puteverything away. Okay?”<\/p>\n

Family in unison: “Sure! We’ll help.” I’m so lucky to have such a lovely considerate family. Smiles all aroundlike a Norman Rockwell painting come alive in a 2000 Ford Expedition.<\/p>\n

Oh, we all packed it inside, alright. But that’swhere it all ended. Exit Norman Rockwell, enter my worst frickin’nightmare. I kneeled down to tie my shoe, just for a nanosecond, and as I stand backup, this is what I see.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

It was just like an old Friday the 13th horror movie. You know, where the young, nubile co-ed innocently stops to tie her shoe while hiking withfriends and then stands back up only to become aware that everyone has gone missing? And she’s alone, left to contend with the sudden appearance of a stranger in a hockey mask. It was just like that. Except I’m not really a young coed. Or nubile. And, I don’t really hike.And instead of Jason Vorhees to contend with I had a gigantic mess of tangled shopping bags and luggage. (Personally, I think Jason Vorhees would have been easier.)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

My family was nowhere to be found<\/em>. And they left all of their stuff. Right in the middle of the floor. For me.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Oh, and that’s my stuff. You got it. Neatly set upon the couch.<\/p>\n

After coping with the realization that my family is selfish and meanI got to thinking about all the stuff. Why in the heck is there so much to put away? We were gone for one night. We have luggage, cows, Care Bears, shopping bags, coats…<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

…a Spongebob balloon. Hold the phone, people. Why in the heck did we even bring a Spongebob balloon with us?<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Well, it took awhile but I was able to get everything put away. Solo mia. All by myself. AndI still haven’t located my family. I have this vision of them in the garage hiding underneath the workbench stocked with pringles, mallomars, juice boxes and the portable DVD player.<\/p>\n

I’ve learned some valuable lessons from this mini-vacay.<\/p>\n

1) I should utilize alittle more scrutiny during thepacking process. I’m pretty sure the Spongebob balloon was an unnecessary addition to my stress level.<\/p>\n

2) I should devise a plan which disables my familyfrom avoiding me like the plague when we are in the midst of unpacking. I’m thinking I<\/em> should be the one hiding under the workbench with pringles, mallomars, a juice box and the DVD player. Nah. I’d wriggle out from underneath the bench 10 pounds heavier from salt and hydrogenated oils only to find all the crap still sitting there.<\/em> New plan.<\/p>\n

3) I should drink more wine. Lots more.<\/p>\n

Mindy<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

First of all, let me say a big “Thank You” to all of you for allowing me to whine relentlessly on Friday about being all uninspired. I’m over it. You were there. Thanky. Moving on… We just got back froma wonderful weekend in Washington State visiting family and celebrating a veryearly Christmas before parts ofthe […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1,22],"tags":[97,261,65,260],"class_list":{"0":"post-889","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-stuff","7":"category-family-life","8":"tag-family","9":"tag-stress","10":"tag-the-suburban-life","11":"tag-vacations","12":"entry","13":"has-post-thumbnail"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thesuburbanlife.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/889","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thesuburbanlife.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thesuburbanlife.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thesuburbanlife.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thesuburbanlife.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=889"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/www.thesuburbanlife.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/889\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4527,"href":"https:\/\/www.thesuburbanlife.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/889\/revisions\/4527"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thesuburbanlife.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=889"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thesuburbanlife.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=889"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thesuburbanlife.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=889"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}