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Two Saturdays ago, we were madly packing up our RV so we could hit the road for Kids Camp. It was Lazy Dad’s 10th and final year directing this great camp for kids from across our state and we were anxious to leave.
But we weren’t just packing for a week at Kids Camp, we were also packing for our month-long RV trip out west. Yes, our #LazyRVAdventure was immediately following Kids Camp and we were leaving directly from there.
Because of this, I was going over our Master RV Pack List like crazy! Making sure we had packed everything that we needed not only for Kids Camp, but also for our four and a half week journey. I was making everyone in my family stop and listen as I went over our packing list multiple times and would pause at an item until I heard someone affirm that they had in fact packed the item in question.
I was SO adamant about this “signing off,” that my family dubbed me the “Pack List Nazi.” And I lived up to the name.
I was especially strict about clothes packing. Not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES I made each person (including Lazy Dad) tell me that they had packed pants. I knew they were all in shorts mode because it was Summer, and I also knew that when we got to the dude ranch portion of our RV trip we had to have pants to ride the horses, and I also knew that in some places on our big trip it would be cold at night. One by one I looked them in the eye and asked… no, no, demanded that they tell me they had packed pants. THREE TIMES, mind you.
Satisfied we were all packed accordingly, I left the house to run a few final errands. That’s when my mom called. “Stacey, did you pack your business cards for your conference?” she asked sweetly. Apparently she was as concerned about the details of our packing as I was.
“Yes, mother. I packed my business cards. I have a master packing list that I have gone over three times with everyone; I’m telling you right now, mom, there is NOTHING I have forgotten to pack.”
I finished my conversation with her, completed my errands and before I knew it we were down the road headed for Kids Camp.
We were almost an hour away when suddenly, out of nowhere, like a crash of lightning to my mind, I realized something very important we forgot to pack….
“AHHHH! I FORGOT TO PACK ALL MY PANTS!” I exclaimed.
I packed everything, EVERYTHING, I tell you. Except that teeny-tiny minor wardrobe detail… my pants.
The irony was not lost on me. I had a good, long, hearty laugh at my expense. But surprisingly, no one else in my family was laughing. Believe me, I checked. They couldn’t believe I had made them all sign-off on their own pant-packing when I had not taken the same protocol with myself!
I found the whole thing hilariously funny after such an intensely mind numbing, prepare-and-pack-for-a-family-of-five-for-five-weeks degree of packing. And so did everyone at Kids Camp (after they saw I had pants on).
Thankfully, our wonderful friend and fellow Kids Camp pal, stopped by our house, went through all of our clean laundry piles in the basement, and brought me all my pants. Such a friend, she is! (Thanks, Jenny!)
But the rest of the week I had lots and lots of people really cut it up with me over the pants. Including our loveable “Camp Minions,” who posted this picture on Facebook with the caption, “Hmmm… What did I forget to pack for camp????”
The Lazy Mom
P.S. I must really have a thing with pants… remember when I wore a pair of pants backwards to the chiropractor?