I was never late before I had kids. I was always the person who was 10 minutes early. Or else I’d show up on a person’s doorstep at the exact minute she said her party was starting. Surprise, surprise, I was usually the first person there.
Then I got pregnant. My son was born three days past his due date and my punctuality has never recovered.
This fall it seems worse than usual. Our house is freezing cold because I haven’t had time to vacuum out the vents and turn on the furnace. I tried paying my son to do the job, 20 cents a vent, and he finished half of the downstairs before bedtime. But now a day later, the vacuum is still out in the living room, tripping us with its long cord.
My plan is to finish the task between piano lessons, the dentist and dinner. Or maybe we’ll be extra frugal and not use the furnace until Halloween. I could put the winter comforters on the beds a month early. But first I’d have to find the time to wash them.
Probably parents of every situation can relate. Stay-at-home or working, it doesn’t matter. You’re impossibly busy. Sure, it would be nice to have leisurely afternoons, sitting in front of the fire and drinking hot cocoa, but you’ve got things to do.
Part of my problem is that I’ve overcommitted myself. I’m volunteering at two schools, church and the PTA. I’m also the leader of a brand new Girl Scout troop.
Yes, I signed up for too many things this year. So what? It’s not like I’m the only person who’s in this exact same situation.
But I’ve been thinking lately that packed schedules would be easier for all parents to manage if we could become better at living in the moment. The other day we were driving to guitar lessons and I knew we’d be late. I kept saying to myself, over and over again, “Three minutes late! We’re three minutes late! That’s like four dollars worth of lesson time! Why am I so stupid? Why did I insist on loading the dishwasher?”
I spent the whole drive freaking out.
I realized afterwards — when we were only 1 minute late — that instead of spending that car ride obsessing, I should have turned the radio up, sang along with the music, and encouraged my kids to do the same. I could have spent 15 minutes relaxing.
Instead, I let stress steal that opportunity.
I could try to rush from a ballet lesson that ends at 5:30 to a PTA Bingo Night that begins at 6. I could throw food into the backseat like my children were animals and call it dinner. Or I could do better and embrace a new mantra: Kids, since we’re already late, at least let us enjoy the ride.
Jennifer Bardsley is an Edmonds mom of two and blogs at www.heraldnet.com/ibrakeformoms and teachingmybabytoread.com.
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