Not to Save My Life

I used to be such a punctual person. I was always just a tad bit early for everything- work, dates, etc. I was usually the one waiting for everyone else to arrive. My punctuality suffered a bit when my husband and I started dating. I’m still not sure why that was, but the issue corrected itself again after a while.

Nowadays, I can’t be on time to save my life! It is the most annoying thing ever, but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t get anywhere by the arranged time. I can be on track with everything running smoothly, when out of nowhere everything goes to pieces and I end up being even later than usual.

As an example of my every day struggle: I’ve got both the kids dressed, their diapers are freshly changed, the dogs have been out, the diaper bag is packed, I have clothes and shoes on, we’re ready to go. I just have to put my kids’ shoes on. I smell something… One of them has pooped their pants. Repeat diaper change as quickly as possible (which is not very quick), then try again. I smell something again. The other child has now pooped their pants. Second diaper change attempt. While I’m changing one child’s diaper, the other decides it would be fun to play in the dog water and dump it all over himself. So, after diaper change number three billion, I have to change the baby’s clothes. I run up to get the clothes, come back down to find the other child splashing around in the dog water puddle in her socks because I failed to clean up the mess in my attempt to hurry. After changing one child’s clothes and the other’s socks, it is finally time to leave. We are at this point already twenty minutes behind. My daughter now decides that it would be much more fun to play with a stick outside than to get in the car. After a few minutes of convincing, she finally agrees to get in, but insists on doing it herself. A good ten years later (that’s off my life, not real time), we are finally rolling out of the driveway. We are running at least 30 minutes late, half the contents of the diaper bag has fallen out in my attempt to get us out the door. I look disheveled and have at least three new grey hairs.

When I reach my destination, completely out of breath and exhausted from the simple task of getting both of my kids in the car, all the other mothers are already there. How? How did they get there on time? I have no idea. If I had any more children, I would surely never be able to leave the house again.

Please, dear friends, be patient with me. I am trying, I really am. I hate people who are tardy and somehow through one of life’s cruel jokes I am one of them now. I have this illusion that one day I will be able to turn up for appointments and play dates on time, but it doesn’t look like that will be happening any time soon…