The Hatred of Packing and What "Old" Really Means...

This is going to be a short one. I am currently in the midst of packing... Which is one of my all-time LEAST favorite activities in the universe. I know, I know, #firstworldproblems, I'm a terrible, ungrateful person, yada yada yada. I'm aware of all that. It just makes me stressed out and need an adult beverage. Just the thought of not only trying to figure out what I need, but what three other small humans need... Ugh. It's just such a process. It's not like we are going to the middle of nowhere, and we aren't even going for very long. Don't ask about unpacking... there have been times that suitcases sit out for a month. 

Anyways, I digress. The major event of this last week (other than Father's Day, which I will cover in another post) was that Layla told me I was old. Now I am aware I am not old in the conventional sense. We were sitting at the dinner table discussing the pool when it came out. She said, "Mom. You are old. You don't put your head under the water." 

"Who is older, me or daddy?" I asked (he is five years older than me). 

"Daddy." She replied simply. "But you're old. Daddy's not. He goes under." 

Despite her rather confusing logic, I was offended by my almost four year old. And determined to show her that I was, in fact, not old. The next day before heading to the pool, I scrubbed off every last ounce of the poor performance waterproof mascara I have (a feat in itself. People know I will wear in on my deathbed). We went to the pool, and I went under. This isn't a strange thing (I do go under, just not always... You have seen my hair, it is difficult at best. And diving my whole life I was wet constantly. I earned my right to stay dry on occasion). 

So actually the nanosecond after I went under, I asked Layla if I was old. Her response? "Nope." So simple. And so ridiculous.

The other event that I need to acknowledge is the dress-up situation that occurred the other day. The girls were playing inside for a little bit while Olivia was asleep and these little people appeared... 

I really had no words for Layla. That teeny face under that shock of ridiculously bright hair. I couldn't contain myself. We then took a trip to get the mail: 

I die.

The only other comment I have to say today is this: how does anyone get anything done in the summer? Between swim practice, pool, (packing for the pool), laundry (which is towels ALL the time now), baths... I mean I drop in bed every night exhausted. I have zero desire or motivation to get anything done. Which is not good. I mean, making dinner seems like a majorly difficult task in the summer. 

Since I'm continuing to sound like a total brat right now... oh the pool, I'm so exhausted... I'll sign off before all of you think even less of me. 

Happy Thursday! 

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