Tag Archives: not a hero

Packing Problems

This past weekend, my husband was registered to run the Disney Half Marathon. It was his first race in a while and my daughter has never been to Disney World so we thought it would be fun to make a little vacation out of it. Since his race was very early on Saturday morning, we decided to go to the hotel on Friday afternoon -right after we picked up the kid from preschool-  and stay through Monday. I had a surprisingly busy and stressful day on Friday and was out of the house most of the day so my husband said he would get all the packing done for himself and our daughter. “No problem,” he said. That should’ve been my first warning sign.

So, I dash home on Friday afternoon about 10 minutes before we have to leave. which gave me just enough time to throw my things in a bag. My conversation with my husband went like this:

Me [clearly worried]: Are you sure you’ve packed everything?

Him [smug and overly proud]: Of course! Look, I even remembered to bring the kid’s hooded duck towel in case she takes a bath. I’m a hero!

{Note: I’m not making it up when he called himself a hero. In fact, he did this numerous times on the drive there.}

Can you see where this is going?

Friday night as we’re getting ready for bed, my husband starts laying out all of his race stuff. Shirt: check. Socks: check. Running shoes: check. Shorts: um…no. He started frantically digging through bags only to conclude that he forgot to pack them. He ended up going to the hotel gift shop and buying an overpriced pair of bathing trunks to run in. Yes, annoying but I figured it was his problem and let it go.

Well, the next morning my daughter and I wake up (way too early) to go meet him at the finish line. It was still kind of chilly so I figured I’d put her in a pair of jeans with a t-shirt and throw a sweatshirt over that. I open her suitcase to get the clothes and find the following:

5 sets of pajamas, 3 shorts, a leotard and tutu purchased for her ballet class and 3 fancy dresses. That’s it. Seriously.

You know what wasn’t in the suitcase? Shirts. Socks. Underwear. Sweatshirts.

That’s right, 5 sets of pajamas for a 3 night stay but not a single shirt. Yep, a ballet leotard and tutu but no socks or underwear.

Oh, and by the way, that hooded duck towel he was so proud of remembering to include? Not only does the hotel PROVIDE FREE TOWELS but she never even took a bath while we were there.

Lesson learned? My husband will never, ever be responsible for packing again. And? When he says he’s a hero he will most likely prove himself to be entirely unheroic.

But, hey, at least he got a kiss from Minnie Mouse.