I think I may have some co-workers or friends without kids who wonder about me, and perhaps even some older friends whose children have grown and they’ve forgotten how it once used to be. These people may wonder what’s wrong with me. Why can’t I seem to arrive on time? Well, here you go.
You’ll have one of those days where you think today’s the day! Today is going to be the day we make it out the door with our sanity intact and fifteen minutes to spare. I’ve always been overly optimistic, and I never give up hope of one day beating the odds that are stacked against me in the perpetually behind life of raising kids.
So, with an ever hopeful heart I begin to get ready six hours prior to a two o’clock appointment allowing myself a humongous block of time in which I can personally prepare for whatever thing has been penciled into my busy schedule of diaper changes, meal preparation, and repetitive Walmart runs.
With such an expanse of time prior to my engagement I’m filled with optimistic dreams of leaving my home not screaming at my children to “hurry up!” I sip my hot coffee with a feeling of jubilation and smile at the images of myself stopping at every yellow light because I just have so much time to spare. In these picturesque daydreams I even stop to help a wayward turtle cross the road. It’s beautiful.
8:45 am: As I leisurely brush my teeth, after a hot shower, I hear the baby wake up in her room next door. I remove the wet towel from my head and comb out my hair quickly before I retrieve my youngster.
9:30 am: After much cuddling and breastfeeding have been completed, my baby is ready to get down and play. I’m quite certain I can begin to blow dry my hair. It’s started to air-dry and frizz over the past 45 minutes, but I’m hopeful I can make it somewhat presentable.
Enter an awake three year old from stage left. She requires three things. Chocolate milk, cartoons, and my lap. This lap business causes some dissension among the ranks, and the baby realizes my lap is a prime area of real estate in today’s market. She stakes her claim.
10:15 am: After an episode and a half of Bubble Guppies, one cup of chocolate milk, and another round of pacification breastfeeding, the children have decided they are ready for breakfast.
I cook eggs, refill sippee cups, and set-up everyone at the table. I even decide to feed myself, but just as my food is put on a plate, the baby is done and screams to get down. She has ground scrambled egg into her hair, and has dumped a sizable portion on the floor. The rest she has mixed with milk from her “spill-proof” cup forming an egg soup on her placemat.
I would normally clean this up, but time is of the essence. So instead I draw a bath for the girls and clean them up.
11:30 am: While the girls remained occupied in a lukewarm tub status post bathing, I managed to blow dry my hair, despite their complaints of it being “too loud!”
As I start to apply make-up, both decide their immediate removal from the bath is required. I remove slippery bodies, dry them, and place them in panties/diapers for safe keeping.
The next hour consists of me trying to complete a task that should take 10 minutes. I don’t wear that much make-up, but it takes longer when you’re stepping over curious toddlers and being forced from the bathroom so the preschooler can poop in private, which in hindsight is totally unfair considering the privilege isn’t reciprocated.
12:30 pm: The baby wants to nurse again, and in general they’re just ready to eat again period. After all, it’s been two hours since they took one bite and dropped the rest in the floor.
The baby may walk up with a full box of Cheez-its at this point, and despite the rational part of me screaming “no,” the part that just wants to get my pants on may open the box for her and say, “have at it.”
Over the next hour I’ll re-feed everyone, and then give another partial bath afterwards.
I’ll offer my professional opinion on injuries sustained during playtime.
“Ouch Mom! Look at my booboo from getting scraped by the couch!”
While the couch is the safest object in the home, with zero sharp edges, and although not even a tiny red mark will be observed, I will offer much condolences and kisses to the affected area. After 10 minutes of snuggling, it will be miraculously healed.
1:20 pm: At this point I’ll look at the clock and wonder for the billionth time what the hell happened?!
I will have less than thirty minutes to finish dressing myself and two other people before we must leave the house. I’ll run around a bit frantically, collecting little outfits, and tripping over an obstacle course of discarded toys in the hall.
I will fail despite my best efforts. Circumstances cosmically beyond my control, such as lost shoes, will intervene to thwart my attempts at timeliness.
I will fight a toddler who doesn’t want to get her clothes on, but instead desires to breastfeed again and take a nap. Also, the three year old will need to poop one more time. In private. Where she may dig out a tub of Tuck’s pads from under the sink to wipe her bottom. She’ll subsequently stop up the toilet with them.
1:55 pm: “Hurry up! Come on!” These are my vain cries that my children interpret as, “stare at the TV dumbfounded by the fascinating show there.” The baby will also take this as her cue to remove her shoes and cleverly deposit one out of sight.
I’ll fill up cups last minute lest anyone become seriously dehydrated and desire a sip of water.
I’ll eventually place the kids in the van even though I still have six bags to grab from inside. I’ll wonder why I haven’t done this already, and as I walk back towards the house I’ll say a prayer of thanksgiving to God for the woman who invented DVD players for automobiles.
After packing enough kid supplies to last a week we’ll pull out of the driveway and I’ll offer myself minimal congratulations for the time displayed on the van’s clock radio. 2:07.
Then as I try to exit my neighborhood I’ll do a quick, far from graceful u-turn, and head back towards my driveway having forgotten my purse.
Sigh. There’s always next time, right?
J. Heenan says
Love it!
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you!
Rachel Huwe says
Haha!! Yep, that’s how it goes. Extremely early, or way beyond fashionably late. I’m usually the latter. I start the night before getting outfits chosen & laid out, bags backed, snackage ready to roll, & bathed children for the afternoon appointment. Yes, lost shoes and teen garments hold us up. I’ve given up on applying make-up. Glad I’m not the only one still breastfeeding my 18 month old. If we get there on time I do a crazy Mom Happy dance with accompanying song arrangement I put together as it comes out my mouth. I embarrass everyone, but me, however, everyone is dying with laughter except Caitlin(14 year old). I tend to forget my phone, Ben’s cup, house key(after the house is locked and exited), or the wipes. All are definite must have items. Good Grief!! So, once again, you and I are more alike than we realize.
Breaks forth into, “One Fine Day, you know we’re going to be on time!”
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Haha! It all sounds oh so familiar.