Theoretically speaking, at least.
The reality is that packing is nowhere near complete but we will still be leaving in less than 48 hours regardless.
That means that whatever isn’t packed, doesn’t come with us.
Which means I had better get moving.
It isn’t as disorganised as it sounds actually and despite the impression, I do have some kind of system in place that I work through. Having said that, our home currently looks like a Camping World outlet with sleeping bags, rucksacks, equipment, and tents piled anywhere they can go. The house is going to look very empty once the minibus is loaded. We are hoping that the minibus harbours some tardis-like tendancies that we have yet to discover, otherwise a serious process of elimination will be required. This would mean making a choice between the things that we’ve already decided absolutely do need to be brought along with us – an already scaled-down version to what we had originally planned to pack. Any further scaling down may well result in us leaving the kids behind and Mike and I heading off alone for two months.
I did try to consider the viability of that option, a ‘what if’ scenario that I played out in my head in case we did prioritise the importance of the portaloo and beach trolleys over taking the kids, but thought that leaving them behind would be simply too distressing to even ponder. I then decided to try and ponder, thinking it would be an interesting experiment to undergo in order to ascertain what emotions might be triggered. As I waited for maternal feelings to kick in, it seemed that the only distress I might have felt at the thought of travelling the world without ten children in tow was caused by the fact that I felt no distress at all at the prospect of taking off. It then occurred to me that I wasn’t even distressed at the thought of not being distressed and what I might have felt was maternal emotion was actually a need for the loo.
As it is, the children have been counting down to Travel Day, a.k.a T-Day, since approximately 4,762,223 sleeps ago. Or perhaps that is just the number of times they have asked if we’re going yet since Wednesday.
“How many sleeps until we go camping?”
“How much is that?”
“Is it this many?” Holds up four fingers.
“Not this many?” Holds up five fingers.
“How many sleeps is four?”
“What? Two more sleeps?”
“Is that this many?”
And so it continues.
With just two days left before we do head off their levels of excitement are hitting new heights whilst their usually standard pool of patience is diminishing rapidly. It is a well-synchronised talent that they have polished to perfection, created with the aim of driving us parents to the brink of insanity before we even hit the road.
Of course, once we do begin the drive they then they will activate phase two of this excellently honed, multi-faceted skill, where our ears will be blessed with the perpetual ‘Are we nearly there yet?’ chorus that launches before we have even left the village.
And I wonder why the prospect of child-free travel didn’t distress me.
Roll on Sunday.