Baggage

In the midst of packing literally baggage, it is amazing what types of emotional baggage come to the surface. One can't help but sift through a lifetime of memories while putting things into boxes. That I can deal with for the most part. My issues seem to surface when I try as hard as I can to not let the chaos of moving impact my little ones. I'm trying to keep life as normal as possible for them while life is anything but normal. Fortunately they have both been in camp for these last two weeks, which has helped both them and us. They have been having fun and learning, but also coming home to a drastically different home everyday. Yesterday, they arrived to see thier rooms stripped bare and today they will arrive home to see thier rooms empty. But I digress.

This morning we had an instance of miscommunication...I mean lack of communication from dad...that meant the girls were not dressed properly or on time for camp. Fortunately I sent them with a change of clothes just in case, but it was panic. At least that is what I was told my husband. And then the baggage surfaced. Memories of feeling like my mom was the only one who missed the memo. Wanting so badly to not stand out because I didn't get it right. Ugh...the memories. I know I am being hard on myself, but I just never want my girls to have to feel those feelings of wishing they had a different mom. Clearly I am blowing this out of proportion. In fact I know I am.

Fast forward a few hours as I go to pick up the girls up from camp and profusely apologize for the mishap, Grace looked at me like she wasn't totally sure what I was talking about. And, that is when I realize that it was my baggage that I had been schleping around all morning.