1. If your 75 year old mother is preparing to move and keeps telling you how hard it is because she “has so much stuff”, you won’t believe her until you see it for yourself.

2. Because apparently you can’t have too many vases.

3. Or soap dishes.

4. Or canister sets.

5. And, clearly, everyone needs a set of everyday dishes and three separate sets of fine china.

6. Your sister, who lives with your mother part-time, and who was home ALL summer, may suddenly disappear to northern Ohio for “grad school” and “trade shows” and won’t come home from the time your mother decides to move, until one week after the move is completed.

7. Which leaves you to pack her stuff up.

8. And, when I say “pack” I mean put her things into hodge-podge boxes, cart them across town, lug them into the new house and up a flight of steps, then throw them in a corner.

9. Your sister is lucky you love her.

10. Because she’s a pack-rat.

11. You may be really excited to have this Friday off work, only to realize your mom really wants you to paint her new living room and dining room.

12. Your mom is lucky you love her too.

13. And when your mom lives just two minutes away instead of 25 minutes away, all of this will be worth it.

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Yesterday morning, I tested my level of parenting endurance when the school where I work said they needed me to leave my second grade class for the day and go on my son’s field trip. Thirty kindergartners, a city bus, a downtown transfer and an imminent rainstorm, all at the ripe hour of 8:00 AM.

First, we missed our bus. Then as we stood waiting for the next one to arrive, my son tugged on my arm to tell me he had to poop. Of course.

I did what any self-respecting mother would do and said, “I don’t know what to tell you. You’re going to have to just shove it back up in there.”

On the bus, we met lots of colorful characters. At one point, I mentioned to my son that our new puppy would likely pee in her cage because we would be gone so long, to which he replied, “I bet she will. I can kind of smell her pee right now.” No sweetie, that’s the guy standing next to me.

After the field trip, we waited an eternity for the bus to take us back downtown. We were in a lovely area of Columbus, affectionately referred to as “The Bottoms”. There was lots of trash for the kids to play with and some delightful graffiti for our emerging readers. Something about someone’s mom and a particular body part.

On the bus trip home, I can’t decide if it was more fun to stand for half the ride, or whether it was watching my son’s “buddy” touch the bottom of his shoes and then hold my son’s hand as we walked back to school in the rain. When we finally got back to our car, I just went ahead and had my boy drink some hand-sanitizer.

After arriving home, I spent over an hour on the phone (45 minutes of that on hold) trying to find a baker who can make a Mario cake for my son’s birthday party this weekend. Sorry kid, you’re getting Matchbox cars.

Then, I cleaned pee out of the puppy’s cage. Not from when we were gone for four hours in the morning, but from when I put her in there for 15 minutes so I could do some laundry. Which, makes perfect sense. Oh, and she learned how to climb the steps, so now I have two levels of house on which to chase her.

And, for the icing on the cake? I found my son had etched a self-portrait into our mahogany dining room table.

Some days, there just isn’t enough wine.

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