Packing it in

We're about to leave civilisation for four days in a caravan in deepest darkest Wales (well, actually, in a caravan overlooking one of the most beautiful coastal bays I've ever seen) but from the looks of it you'd have thought we were taking a small army somewhere very far away for a very long time. See, packing for three small children for four days is really not that different to packing ... well, to packing up most of your belongings, actually. Oh, the PARAPHERNALIA! I have to say that it is absolutely the thing I now hate most about going on holiday. Last night I sat down with a glass of wine (yep, I've given in to the demon drink again...) to write a LIST of all the things we would need to take. And a list is required, believe me. You're not gonna just REMEMBER all this shit. Don't even think about it!
The thing about the packing, too, is that while one is trying to pack, the children for whom one is packing like to 'help'. So, Eden (5) is taking a very large Disney Princess rucksack full of random small things: odd polly pocket shoes, bits of ribbon, naked Barbies, that kinda thing. She also packed her own suitcase, but this I went over and re-packed. The random toy selection I can cope with but it would be good if she left for the none-too-certain climes of Welsh Wales with a little more than some towelling shorts (very short) and some ballet tights. Sigh. Nath (2) meanwhile, has spent most of the day trailing stuff back in from the hall (where it has been neatly piled awaiting removal into the boot of the car) into the living room. He particularly has his eye on a plastic cricket set. Of course, the really annoying thing is that I always pack everyone else's suitcases first. By the time I get to my own I am so tired of the packing thing that I just throw in any old clobber, which usually turns out to be completely unsuitable, mis-matching junk. I may as well leave it all to Eden next time. See you on 16th April!