Confessions of an Over Packer

I’m writing to you today from sunny Florida. The sunshine is a big deal because back home in western Pennsylvania we haven’t seen the sun in over ten days. I know we are fortunate. While the sun has been MIA, we did not experience any of the catastrophic flooding and destruction that so many in the south are still contending with, so I should not complain. But I was definitely ready for a break from the gray skies.

This trip is a little bit bittersweet, though. 

My son is graduating with his Masters in Entertainment Business today. I couldn’t be more proud of him. A Masters degree at 21!

He also secured a position at his dream company. 

In Indiana. 

So . . . after three amazing years of visiting him in Orlando every couple months, our regular trips to Florida are coming to an end. Cue the sad trombone.

Of course, I’m thrilled that he’s gainfully employed with a position in his field at an incredible company. I love that he’s only going to be four hours away from home–just a day trip! And I am excited to explore a new city.

But I’m not going to lie, I will miss the sunshine. And frequent trips to Disney Springs.

Last night, my husband and I took my son, his girlfriend, and a friend to Raglan Road for dinner. It’s one of our favorite restaurants–a good, old Irish pub complete with live music and Irish dancers. And incredible food. They just updated their menu and my dinner last night, a chicken pie in puff pastry, was better than ever! 

After dinner, we, okay I, wanted a Dole whip. I’ve been wanting the pumpkin and toasted marshmallow swirl since I first saw it on Instagram a month ago. It did not disappoint. Ten out of ten. Highly recommend.

However, this desert detour put us a half mile further from the car and added about fifteen minutes to our excursion. So instead of being safely inside the car when the skies opened up, we were in the middle of Disney Springs. 

Ah . . . Florida.

With rain predicted for the next hour we had no choice but to haul ass through the rain. It’s fine. I’ve been wet before. It wasn’t that cold. (Although we did ask for the heat when we got in the car.) And a little rain never hurt anyone.

Except my husband. 

Who only brought one pair of shoes and was already a t-shirt short for the trip. 

Sigh.

Look . . . I am a notorious over packer. In part, this is because as a mom of three I have spent the last twenty-two years responsible not just for my own things, but for all the bits and bobs that my entire family could possibly need on vacation.

Add to that a child with food allergies, another with allergy-induced eczema that was triggered by any and everything from scratchy sheets to chlorinated air, and a third who throws up any and everywhere, and I learned to be prepared.

I also don’t like being uncomfortable. I’m not wearing wet shoes. I hate being cold. It makes me cranky. And I don’t want to be cranky on vacation. 

I’ve gotten better over the years; but, I’ll never be one of those people who travel through Europe for two weeks with a backpack. (My toiletries and hair dryer take up more room than that. And, no, I don’t have a ten-step skin care routine.) It’s okay though. I’ve made my peace with it. 

My husband, on the other hand, is a notorious under packer. 

He prides himself on traveling with only a backpack. Or, maybe, a duffel bag.

The trouble is, he is always missing something he needs.

In South Beach, he had to buy flip flops because he only brought dress shoes.

In the Bahamas, he forgot sunscreen. (He only uses a special kind.)

During a tropical storm, he traveled without an umbrella or rain jacket.

When we went to Cleveland to go Christmas shopping, he didn’t bring a winter coat. 

On this trip, he brought exactly one pair of shoes. 

One pair of shoes to Orlando. A place notorious for rain. A place where on multiple prior occasions he has [loudly] complained about his aching soggy feet because his shoes got wet.

Not to mention that our trip itinerary includes a college graduation. Our son’s graduation.

I know we’re in the vacation capital of the world. I know Flrida is a casual place. I know the world is a casual place. But I’m still old school when it comes to weddings, graduations and funerals. Appropriate footwear is required. 

And soggy sneakers aren’t appropriate.

Beyond the hours spent hunting for replacement items, that more often than not he doesn’t buy because he doesn’t want to pay the captive-audience prices, his lack of preparedness doesn’t really impact me.

Except for the fact that he maintains this air of superiority because he packs light. He visibly guffawed at the bag I packed for this trip. A bag, which admittedly could have been smaller. But I didn’t see any point in crowding my clothes and I was able to shift most of the things I usually carry in my backpack to my checked luggage so I didn’t have to lug it around multiple airports. I also packed things I am leaving behind for two of my kids.

But it’s not just him. I feel like there is a societal condemnation of overpacking. 

On one hand, this is practical. Airlines charge an arm and leg for every bag. And if you are trekking through Europe, a lighter bag makes your trip easier and more enjoyable. I get that.

But on this particular trip we are going to be in two locations and the only public transit we’re using are airplanes. I have one relatively large suitcase and one backpack that is mostly empty (laptop, KIndle, glasses, wallet, hairbrush). I probably have one extra outfit and one extra shirt. 

Could I have left those things at home? Sure. But my desire to have what I need is not a moral failing. Nor is it necessarily imprudent. 

Having what I need makes me happier. So that alone is a win. But it also saves time. And money. And resources. 

Suppose I chose not to bring sandals. And then we got here and my one and only pair of walking shoes got soaked. I’d have to go buy another pair of shoes that I don’t really need. 

Or suppose I only brought one sweatshirt and the man sitting next to me on the plane (who may or may not have been my husband) spilled his Bloody Mary on me. Trust me when I tell you I’m buying another sweatshirt. Again, one that I don’t really need. 

This is wasted money. It only adds to the burden of unneeded clothes in my closet and contributes to the negative environmental impact of fast fashion.

But if the whole point of being on vacation is to relax and enjoy, then I want to be comfortable.

And I can’t tell you how many times someone was grateful for the ziplock bags, laundry detergent sheets, or extra sweatshirt I always have in my bag.

Yep, I am a notorious over packer. Although I prefer to call it prepared. And I’m proud of it.