Project Vacation

Darling Hubby got the opportunity to attend a conference in Las Vegas this week. Since Las Vegas is one of our very favorite spots, we decided that at some point this week, I would join him and we would bask in the seediness of Sin City. So why am I totally stressed out?

Problem One: Junior. Needs a sitter. Number 1 Favorite Sitter is away at college. Number 2 Favorite Sitter (who happens to be #1's sister) is still in high school and would not be a good choice for camping at our house while we are gone. Gramma/Grampa are on a cruise....dammit!
Solution: Get unsuspecting volunteers! A couple of friends that have no kids (but one dog) will do it. Celebrate! Curse Gramma/Grampa for being gone during same week of conference.

Problem Two: Said friends are extremely busy at work and have not had time to "bond" with Junior by babysitting him. Will he freak out when they attempt to pick him up at daycare? You are not my mommy...you are not my daddy. What have you done with them? Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Solution: Schedule a dinner out with said couple and Junior and us. Have them interact with him and see how 'easy' he is. Junior somehow figures out plan and acts like crazy freakish mutant boy.

Problem Three: Since said friends have not actually babysat for Junior, they do not know his routines, food preferences, strange behaviors, etc. As any mom/dad will tell you, THE SCHEDULE is Golden. You break with THE SCHEDULE, you pay the price. I would like to keep them from running, screaming from our house, if possible.
Solution: Take several hours to write a 4-page document, entitled "Care and Feeding of Junior" that details his eating, drinking, pooping, playing preferences in excrutiating detail. Hope that they read it.

Problem Four: Actually leaving. On day of departure, must get up, get dressed, get Junior dressed and fed, feed two faithful dogs, feed self. Take Junior to daycare. Convince self that this is normal day and will see him again at 5:30pm. Probably not succeed. Return home to load up dogs in different car (Hubbie's truck). Take them to kennel. Convince self that I will not miss dogs either. Return home. Use multiple sheets of lint brush to remove dog hair from self. Realize that I have to pack some of those things called 'clothes' that one wears on vacation. Run around grabbing items that probably will not match upon further inspection. Throw suitcase into trunk of car. Drive like bat from hell to get to airport on time. Worry the entire flight about what I've forgotten to do.

God, I love vacations!