If You Think You’re Early…You’re Already Late!

I remember a student from back in my classroom teaching days that was perpetually late for school.  


The final bell would ring, and the rest of the class would clamber to put away backpacks and find their desks amidst a flurry of homework papers, library books and field trip permission forms.  At the exact moment the dust settled and I had the much coveted attention of every 6 year old in the room...in she came.  

Let’s just say discreet entrances were not in Jenny's* vocabulary.  Skidding around the corner on her stocking feet and huffing and puffing like a tri-athlete, she tumbled into her seat- books, hair and clothing askew. 

Each and every time, Jenny's mother would poke her head into the classroom, (interrupting a class that was already sufficiently interrupted) and with a signature apologetic nod she'd sigh, “Sorry we’re late Mrs. Sept!"

I spent many after school meetings and parent teacher interviews with Jenny's parents...expounding upon the merits of punctuality vs. the effects of tardiness.  Repeatedly, I faced the same apology.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Sept,” the young Mother of three would say, “We start out the day on time – we really do!  It’s just that…well, the minute we are at the door and ready to get into the van, some kind of crisis usually derails our train.”

Entirely unsympathetic and slightly condescending (I will admit), I would suggest that perhaps she should try starting her day a bit earlier to account for the unplanned interruptions that would inevitably foil her attempts at punctuality.  And all the while I was mentally shaking my head in wonder.

How hard could it possibly be to simply leave ten minutes earlier??

Well, now I know.  Oh boy, do I ever.  Let me break it down for you:

It starts the moment I say the magic words, “Okay everybody, Let’s go!”  The Two Year old has to go to the bathroom (again!!), and the Three Year Old has suddenly lost her prized bracelet that she just had on her wrist 10 seconds ago.  “How could it just disappear into thin air??” I groan as I frantically search for it all the way down the hall, dragging my two year old into the bathroom.  Casually, I ask my daughter if we can just go without the bracelet.  This of course, triggers an eruption of tears, signaling that no, indeed we cannot.  As I pull up the pants of my Two Year Old, I realize that a lack of attention paid on my part to this endeavor has resulted in a wardrobe malfunction that cannot be fixed without an entirely new set of clothes.

So off we go back into the bedroom where I rifle through the drawers in attempt to find a new outfit for my son, all too aware of the ticking of the clock.  Once he is redressed, and upon exiting the bedroom into the entry way my sense of smell alerts me to the fact that he is not the only one who needed a change of clothes.  Hauling the baby out of the carseat and pinching my finger in the buckles (not once, but twice!...) we head back into the bedroom for another quick change (and you wonder why I’m doing laundry 3 times a week!).  The good news is that in the meantime my Three Year Old daughter has suddenly located the whereabouts of her prized bracelet…it was simply on her other wrist the entire time. 

“Isn’t that funny Mom?”  Yes, honey.  Hilarious (can you hear my teeth clenching?).

 And after 2 more meltdowns, a temporarily lost set of keys and a finger slammed in the car door we are successfully backing out of the garage and on our way.

Madness, is it not?

Last Thursday was my daughter’s second day of preschool.  We had to make a routine trip into the city that morning to drop my husband off at the airport and then dash for home to make it in time for the school’s one o’clock start time. I had spent Wednesday night making sure everything was ready and loaded in the car, and Thursday morning went off without the proverbial hitch.  Looking at the clock as we left the city and headed home, I applauded myself for sticking to my schedule.  That is, until I had to pull over on the side of the road to remedy a backseat situation involving a screaming 4 month old, a bleeding finger and an overly rough-yet well intentioned- big brother. 

Later as I shoved my daughter through the door of the preschool I saw the hands of the clock busily ticking away…1:06pm.  While hanging up her backpack and coat I caught the eye of the teacher.

And there it was. 

I could read the expression on her face loud and clear.  I knew exactly what that teacher was thinking.

“How hard could it possibly be to leave ten minutes earlier??”

 Hmmm...Touché.










*Names have been changed because it's just been way too long for my mommy brain to remember what the student's name actually was!  Plus, there is FOIP and all that...