"Lord, beer me strength."

Little "Office" quote for ya.

But boy, does this little prayer ring true for me today. Why is it that whenever I have a huge trip coming up, I think about packing at least a week in advance, but never actually pack until the night before? And with a baby in tow, I'm responsible for twice as much crap.

This Wednesday, little Marty man and I are driving down to San Jose. Actually, I'll be doing the driving. He'll just sit in his carseat like a good little boy (fingers crossed). We'll spend the night with my parents, then fly out to Pennsylvania at 7:30am the next morning. Goo. Husband Marty will join us a day later.

So what awaits back east? A huge family reunion with all the relatives on my mom's side. That's 2 grandparents, 10 aunts, 11 uncles, 31 cousins, and 1 second cousin. And a couple significant others who are brave enough to "meet the fam". Of course those numbers don't include the 11 of us that are heading out there from sunny California--my mom, dad, brother and his wife, three sisters, one boyfriend, and us three Moseleys. It's crazy, but I love the chaos.

We typically rent out a whole floor at a local hotel, and hang out in one of their conference rooms while we're there. We do talent shows, so all my cousins, ranging in age from 27 to 2, can show off their latest mad skills. Maybe I'll demonstrate how to change a poopy diaper using only one scented baby wipe. A feat worthy of a little attention if I do say so myself. We'll also hang out by the pool, and get dressed up one evening for a fancy dinner at a nearby restaurant. My Grandy is turning 80 this year, so we get to celebrate her life and the legacy she's created with her many descendants.

Which brings me to the packing I should be doing right now. This will mark our baby's very first trip on an airplane, so packing for a plane ride is a whole different story than our usual San Jose excursions. I don't really know where to start, but thankfully have recieved some great plane advice from a pro (thanks, Beckie). With ziplocs full of snacks in one hand and a brand new Mr. Potato Head toy in the other, I feel armed and ready. Gulp. I'm freaking out in my head.

But today's silver lining is one that will surely carry me through the stress I'll face over the next couple days in trying to get everything ready. This afternoon I was feeling pretty overwhelmed, and little Goobie marched right up to me, put his tiny fat hand on my leg, and said, "Mama?" Wait. It gets better. I looked down at his precious, mac-n'-cheese-covered face, and said, "Kiss kiss?" He leaned in and gave me a big ol' wet one. And I loved every noodle-y, drool-y minute of it.

So in the middle of deciding whether to bring my gray tweed high heels or classic black, and sorting through the toys that will drive me insane on a six-hour flight and those that won't, all I have to do to calm down is ask for a little kiss kiss.

Funny how that seems to make everything all better. Whether the Lord margaritas me strength or not.