Daniel is sleeping. The little guy is so excited for our airplane ride tomorrow — it's hard to contain him as he tries to stuff his entire collection of board books into his backpack. He fell into his nap hard, though, spooned up against me after just two stories. I'd like to be napping, too. But there's too much to do.
Sorting through baby clothes, toddler clothes, my clothes, socks, shoes, diapers, underwear, jackets, rain gear, hats. Sippy cups. Bottles. Spoons. Bibs. Formula. Books. Toys. Prescriptions.
How many pairs of shoes does Daniel need? How many books will hold him over on the plane? How about markers and pencils? Is there room for them? How many snacks should we bring with us, versus buy at the airport?
Which backpack will carry my camera? Which one will hold the quart-size plastic bag of heparin vials I will have to show at security? Will I have to explain what they are? Will they need to x-ray my cane? Where do I pack the big can of formula — in a suitcase, with just enough in a backpack to get us through the first day?
I know it's going to be wonderful once we're there, once we've got the two carseats strapped into the minivan we're renting, once we drive out of the Seattle-Tacoma Airport to the Olympic Peninsula.
But right now, I feel overloaded with all the prep work. I think I'll go take a nap after all.