Running, running, running late
I’m not very good at being punctual. I always try really, really hard. But, I admit, it’s fairly common for me to be a few (or sometimes, more than a few) minutes late.
The worst times are mornings when Elliot and I are getting ready for work and school. I must utter – never to any avail, I might add – “Hurry up, Elliot. We’re running late” at least once every morning. This statement is pointless, I’ve realized that. Four-year-olds, and obviously younger children, do not have a sense of urgency. He doesn’t care if I’m late for work. Besides, it’s almost always my fault we’re running late.
But, what about the time he changed his mind about the shirt he picked out the night before, and it took him five minutes to decide on a new one? Or, when he thought it would be fun to make footprints all over the entire snowy driveway before getting into the car? Didn’t those instances cause us to run even later?
It depends. If I would get out of bed when my alarm first goes off, instead of hitting snooze three or four times, we would be probably still be on time. My blogger friend Stacey recently wrote about “The Race” she faces now that her oldest son is in kindergarten. I completely identify with the feeling of running, running, running all day and evening – until bedtime when the emotional floodgates open, and I realize all I’ve done for the past 14 or so hours is go through the motions.
Well, my Elliot will be in kindergarten next school year, and the craziness will take on a new life when Baby No. 2 arrives. To be honest, life after maternity leave is looking a little scary! That’s still a few months away, and I’m already wondering how on Earth it is going to be possible for me to get one child to daycare, take the other child to kindergarten, work eight hours, pick them both up, feed them, play with them, bathe them, read to them, pray with them and put them to bed. I’m exhausted just writing that sentence.
Over the past few days, however, I have consciously made an effort not to tell Elliot if we are running late. Like I said, it’s not his fault, and there’s no point in making him feel badly about it. Simply eliminating this phrase has made our mornings much more enjoyable.
Am I still late for work by a few minutes? Usually. The only change has been my attitude. Maybe by the time Henry Baby Girl arrives, I will have mastered the art of rising without hitting that darn snooze button! Eh, who am I kidding?
Originally published on ovparent.com.