Packing...as an avoidance mechanism

First of all, my parents bought us possibly the largest suitcases in history. The only things larger are those trunks from "Joe Versus the Volcano." Admit it. You remember them. Every time Joe was in trouble, his oversized, nothing-can-destroy-us trunks would float by and he'd be saved whether from mystery water creature or drowning or volcano eruption. He camped out on them, got inside them to retreive supplies, heck he golfed on them. Man, I love that show. But I don't think that was my point originally.

My point is that we have big bags...and I'm filling them very quickly. How does one pack for a baby we've never met? I don't know what she's eating. I don't know if she's grown herself some teeth. I don't know what she is allergic to. She may hate pink and pretty much pink is the only color of her wardrobe right now. I have no idea how big she is so I have to pack a variety of sizes in hopes one or two of them will actually fit her. I don't know her eating or sleeping schedule.

I was staring at the suitcases earlier, just daring them to give me trouble, when it hit me: I'm stark raving mad. Who does this? People don't accidentally adopt babies. My friend Jessica has a little surprise! baby growing inside her right now. But we discussed it the other day and frankly, surprise adoptions just don't exist. I didn't accidentally fill out 5 inches of paperwork or by chance let people into my house to inspect our plug-in placement. No, sir. We did this fully and wholeheartedly and seemingly without the influence of narcotics.

Now I'm packing to become a mother on the other side of the world in a country where I speak the wrong language to a baby who may or may not be interested in us being her parents.

And, really I think that's why I find myself focused on packing these outrageous pieces of luggage. I can control packing. I can conquer packing. Packing is my friend. If I think about what's at the other end of this journey I will break out in hives from sheer happiness combined with the knowledge that I'm an idiot.