How early is too early?

This is a question that I occasionally ponder. I’ve been known, once or twice in slow years, to decorate for Christmas before Thanksgiving. Shhhh. Shh. Quiet down, people! I haven’t had this conundrum for some time, due to the addition of our third child. It is such a double standard that the stores flaunt their trees before we say “Trick or Treat....Thank You...Happy Halloween.” Seriously, if you’re not having anyone over for Thanksgiving, it’s a victimless crime. And if you are, just don’t turn on the Christmas lights.

I present this question in light of packing for vacation. The intensity of my love for “early” packing is matched only by that of my hatred for unpacking. With the pull-back in the economy and the introduction of fees for checked bags, my propensity for early packing has been intensified. I believe that with all the laundry that I have to process for a family of 5, coupled with the fact that we have soooooooo many clothes, a week early probably wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows. If only I could wait that long.

Each and every item has been scrutinized, washed, folded, and in some cases ironed. My 7 year old recently asked, “What is that called?” “Honey, that is an ironing board,” I whispered. I’m not expecting a nomination for Mother of the Year for that one. This year on our 10 day family trip, we are not checking bags. Our toddler flies free as a lap child (pray for me), so we all have to absorb his belongings. I love a good challenge. I don’t watch Survivor on TV, but I imagine this is what it is like. It is all about strategy. My 10 year old is buckling down to finish the fourth Harry Potter book. She knows she can’t bring two Harry Potter books.

Anyone who has ever moved knows that when it comes down to the wire, moving day, and you think you have only about an hour of work left, in reality it is about 6-12 hours of stress-filled chaos. I guess I’m compensating for that last hellish hour. I’m not crazy. It is a form of self-love.