I hate packing

I hate packing. This is not to say, I hurry to add, that I am not good at it. But no matter how I plan, it always winds up a rush at the last minute. I head out today to visit family in Colorado, and this morning the clothes and carry-on needed to be packed. They are now done, except for my knitting, and I am taking a much-needed break to whine. Good grief! It gets done quickly, but the rush while it goes on! And suddenly, you are finished, and there is all this time left over, and you wonder what you are going to do for the next 3 hours, and why you rushed so hard in the first place!

Dora's sweater can't go along, the balls of yarn won't fit in my carry-on, now I have to start a new work in progress, which means taking the time to figure out a new project.

On another subject, why do little girls of 3rd and 4th grades, have poor self images? Why don't they believe that they are special just the way they are? Mr. Rogers told them, and they didn't believe him even then. I guess we as parents failed, or society as a whole is telling our children that they aren't special. Darn it. Each child is a unique gift, even when they cause us to want to tear each individual hair out by the roots. Or even clumps of hairs out. I loved/love them. I wish there was a way we could enfold them and reassure them of that love. Because I think even as adults there are times we wish we could know if our parents still love us that much.