I’m sitting here ticking off all of the things I need to do tomorrow. I’m taking the kiddos on one of our whirlwind road trips to Atlanta for the weekend because a.) we haven’t done one since August and I don’t want them to get used to having feeling in their legs for 12 hour stretches, b) because my grandparents (their great-grandparents) just spent 3 days trying to buy the correct brand of milk and cereal that although I have told them specifically at least a dozen times this week alone, they will not have purchased the right one, which doesn’t even matter because the kids don’t eat much anyway, but I can’t leave food there out of a guilt reflex so powerful and strong dating back to infancy that I will end up eating 17 bowls of generic Cocoa Pebbles in 2 days, and c) because it’s Thanksgiving and at 38 years old I’m thankful to have grandparents that can, and do, buy the wrong cereal for my children.
So after conferences at 7:30 am, a hair appointment immediately following (want to look closer to 38 than 88), last minute shopping, packing, house-prep, column publication and miscellaneous Traceying; we should be ready to go.
But here’s a couple of pictures and a link to my Thanksgiving column so you don’t miss us too much.