I was cleaning the bathroom last night because my mom, aunt and Rob’s mom were going to be staying over when my daughter came in to inquire about my activities. 

“I’m cleaning the bathroom,” I told her.

“Are we moving?”

Okay, so I didn’t clean much in the past. A telling observation though when your child equates tidying and de-cluttering with moving. After much unpacking and re-stacking of totes and boxes, the house no longer has that in need of Oprah look to it. 

After a tad bit of drama which involved my 76 year old aunt being interrogated by Immigration because she didn’t have a birth certificate (because she sent it in with her passport application and it is in limbo in New Hampshire) all of the family but Farron is assembled and nearly ready to pack up for Jasper. I say nearly because we should be at the florists right now picking up flowers and before heading out of town. However, Rob is not packed. Or showered. Or ready. 

Jordan told me a story the other day about how they were going on a family vacation and Rob had everyone packed up and in the van when he disappeared back into the house and left everyone sitting for nearly 25 minutes. When he finally re-emerged and hopped into the van, they discovered he had gone back into the house to take a shower. That’s my guy. 

Of course I am not quite ready to go either but my tardies has great cover now.

Tomorrow is our wedding day. 5PM with daughters, mothers, aunt and friends under the sky and overshadowed by the mountains, Rob and I will make are commitment to each other official in the eyes of the province of Alberta. 

One more sleep.