I have a piece in Parenting this month copping to my perennially tardy nature and the struggles I’ve had overcoming it–and let me say, it’s still a struggle, a big one, I just refuse to believe, for example, that it can take 1/2 an hour to drive to ballet, because that’s just not right.
So last year, experts were consulted (including my mom), and changes were made, and I undertook to be an on-time person for the first time ever, with, um, mixed results.
Tomorrow is the littles’ first day of school, and at 11 tonight I was sauntering off to bed, muttering that Lily’s sandwich was ready, and the rest of her lunch, and Sam’s snack, and oh, the extra clothes the kids are supposed to have at school….all that could surely be done in the morning, right? I’d be up.
Tonight’s miracle was the triumph of experience over optimism. Maybe I’ll be up. And maybe all the kids will dress themselves, and eat breakfast, and there will be no time-consuming snafus, and all will go precisely as planned as the pigs wing their way proudly overhead.
I stayed up and did, as Mary Caroline, my coach in the article put it, my prep work. I’m bein’ a good girl.