I Will Never Be On Time Again
It doesn’t matter what pre-dawn hour I set my alarm to prepare for the morning madness that will ensue … we are never going to be on time again.
Whether it’s heading off to school, soccer practice, or a birthday party – it’s not until I’m yelling at the top of my lungs, arms flailing, and veins bulging out of my neck that my kids finally get the hint that they need to get their tiny little asses in gear.
And even if, by some grace of God, they decide it’s time to start moving faster than their typical glacial pace – there is ALWAYS some last minute, unexpected turn of events that prevent our timely departure.
All Things Baby:
Baby wakes up wet and crying when I’m half way through making breakfast.
Baby starts screaming for a bottle as I’m putting on my shoes and coat.
Baby has a poop explosion as I’m heading towards the front door for the car.
Finally… you feed, burp, change, and secure the baby into the car seat – AGAIN – only to realize… you forgot binky.
Must. Find. Binky.
“Mom, I got syrup on my shirt. I need to change my shirt. I have to change my shirt.”
Five minutes later… “Moooooom, I spilled my drink. I need to change my shirt.” Again.
As I bring down another shirt… “No. No. No. I don’t like that shirt. That shirt is itchy. I can’t wear that shirt. No!”
And if we make it past breakfast and dare to venture into the car. This child needs plenty of time to prepare for what he would like to bring…
“Mom, I need to bring this truck for the ride. And my drink. And a snack. And these books. And this string. And these crumbs I found on the kitchen table… because these are my favorite crumbs in the entire world…”
And then there are the First Born Problems:
The first born can never find “X” – insert here… his glasses case or his library books or his homework or my sanity which he stole nine long, long years ago.
And after five milliseconds of searching, he still can’t find “X” so settles on bringing the tablet. Only he can’t find it – and declares it is absolutely necessary he bring it for the long and BORING… five minute car ride.
He spends another ten minutes looking for it in his bedroom – while we all stand at the door waiting… only to remember he left it on the sofa… where I originally suggested that he look.
He swings by the closet to grab his shoes, but insists that he doesn’t want to wear a jacket or a hat. He starts having a tantrum that he wants to wear shorts because EVERYONE will be wearing shorts… in the middle of winter… in 14 degree weather.
Almost losing my shit, I beg him to put on his damn shoes and FINALLY head for the car.
So you see my friends, there is no preparing for the disaster that is my three children. I remember the sweet days of one-child living when I was always fashionably put together and out the door with time to spare. That was cake. Delicious cake.
Those days are dead. Do you hear me? Dead. Clearly, my kids have lost their hearing. They miss all of my quiet suggestions to stop wrestling and the subtle gestures to keep their hands to themselves. They don’t care about my gentle reminders to stop standing on the sofa and get started on their homework.
I could be screaming while on fire and not even the smoke alarms ringing would get their attention. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to be the calm mom. I’ve learned that my kids only work for crazy mom. The… “you’ll be punished until your 30 with no tablet, no television, and no daylight for the rest of your life”… crazy mom.
So the next time you invite us out – just remember – there’s a small chance that we are 100% definitely going to be late.