Vacation -- All I Ever Needed?

I need a vacation.
Or so I thought, until it came time to get ready for ours.
Getting ready for vacation is the time when you realize you don't have any underwear without holes or rips in them. Now why do I think that someone in my vacation world is more likely to see my underwear then they are in my non-vacation world? I don't know. But I had to go replace the underwear. Not a bad thing to do, just something I have to add to my list.
Then the kids announce they need shoes. They show me the raggedy things they managed to get through the end of the school year with and I'm forced to admit, they're right.
We're going on a cruise, which means we will have one or two (to be negotiated by the children at a later date, preferably after Mom's had a vacation Corona or two) formal dinner nights. This also means the kids will need something dressy to wear. More shoes will be involved as well as a dress or two, plus my son has long outgrown the last suit jacket and dress pants we purchased for him prior to the last cruise we took a few years ago.
Fine, fine, fine.
Add it to the list.
I made the girls try on dresses with me. If Mom has to suffer in front of three way mirrors in hot rooms with lighting that makes her look like she has scurvy, then my girls should have to also. Amazingly, we all found dresses, followed by dress shoes that we could actually walk in. I am not a big clothes shopper. Just like women tend to be chefs or bakers (I'm a baker) we also have various shopping preferences. I am an excellent shopper of accessories. But like baking, you just can't get to it if you don't have the dinner thing done. We had way too much clothes shopping to do to even fathom enjoying the accessory shopping I'm so fond of (and good at).
Once the dressing room torture was over, my children were too busy to go shopping with me again. I decided to run to Kohl's knowing I can get a quantity of items for affordable prices. I armed myself with everyone's sizes and fabric swatches, okay, so they like denim, no swatches required, but I was ready. In a few hours I came home with shorts, shirts, socks, and of course, new underwear. I even found a suit jacket, dress pants, dress shirt and tie for my son. My kids were going to look great! The strangers they would meet on vacation would think we always looked fabulous! Mission accomplished! Everyone was happy, until they tried on what I purchased. It seems a nine is not a nine if it's a nine from a store other than where you bought the last nine.
Now I have to go back to the store, return half of what I bought and try again on the sizes.
Time is running out. I also have to wash the old clothes at the house the kids want to take that they know fit. I also want to leave the house in some kind of order so the invisible home inspectors we fear will enter our homes while we're away won't tut - tut me and put my dirty house on the cover of the Washington Post. Trash has to go out. The refrigerator emptied of potential rotting carcasses. I know this sounds excessive, but we did come home one trip to an olfactory assault when one of the kids took a major poop and forgot to flush just prior to us leaving on a two week trip. These things must be thought out!
The dogs shot records have been faxed. The kennel appointment made and the dogs dropped off. The hamsters, guinea pigs, cockatiels and chinchilla (yes, I said chinchilla) instructions have been written out, their food supply stocked for a month, and their schedules established with the pet sitter. It's time to go, and I am, of course, nearly comatose the morning we're packing up the car. I stayed up half the night checking things off my mental list to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything.
The kids and my husband load up the car while I check trash cans and toilets on my way out the door. It's time to go. Time to start the fun. This is what we've been preparing for. Vacation!
Then the kids start fighting about who gets to sit where in the car and my had spins 360 degree's, I start foaming at the mouth, and tell them to just sit, shut up, and try to have a freakin good time no matter what they have to suck up.
My husband gently puts his hand over mine, and whispers,
"Geez babe, relax. I guess you need this vacation."
My eye lashes don't stop twitching until we're on the plane and my husband decides to splurge on the five dollar thimble full of champagne. I even ignore the word we in his toast, "We did it!"
After all, it is vacation, and goodness knows, I need one, don't I?