Since the dawn of my days of adulthood, I have prided myself on being punctual. I don’t know if it’s out of respect for whomever we are meeting or if it’s to avoid the total panic attack I usually have when we are even 5-minutes late. I was a band kid in High School and it was instilled into us; “To be on time, is to be late. To be early is to be on time.” This phrase was ingrained so deeply that it’s just a part of me. Because of this, I was determined to be on time, even when we had an infant/toddler to get ready. My husband and I had a routine and could get out of the house within 15-minutes. We had a daily schedule and I was always hell-bent on keeping it. It all seemed to be going so well…
My son is now 4-years old. He’s becoming more and more helpful during the process of leaving the house. He’s usually ready to go in 5-10 minutes. However, as soon as the front door opens it’s as if nature has opened a toy box for him to explore on the 20-foot walk to the car. “Mom, look! LOOK!! There’s a snail right there. Do you think he’s alive?” We walk a few more inches and; “The flowers are blooming. Let me pick one for you. Did it rain last night? Why is the sidewalk wet? Do you think it’s going to rain today? Do I need my umbrella? Where is my umbrella?” I do my best to answer his questions and take deep breaths. I know he’s just curious, but my brain is screaming; “WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE” (thanks, band teacher).
I open up the car door and he hops in and right before he’s going to hop into his car seat he remembers the toy car he meant to bring with him for the 9-minute drive to the play date. I point to the 8372 other Hot Wheels scattered on the floor of my car and tell him to pick, but he looks at me with those giant blue eyes, and I know I’m going to cave. I run back into the house and do a frantic search for said car. I return to the vehicle, hand over the favorite car-of-the-day and buckle him in. Yes! We are still going to make it on time. I start the car and; “MAMA, I HAVE TO PEE!” [breathe]
We eventually take off and arrive late (again) to another awesome playdate. Of course, my mom-friend doesn’t care in the slightest that I’m late, but it’s hard to let go of old habits. In the meantime, I’ll let my little one explore (to an extent), realize how awesome the world around him is and start cutting myself some slack.
