I Hate Late
... Which is why this morning, I took him to school in my pajamas, with glasses and uncombed hair, and two little brothers who were dressed in jeans and shirts but coatless-and-shoeless-in-under-forty-degree-weather. (Parent of the year right here, y'all.)
What?? We weren't getting out of the car. At least Colin was seasonally appropriate, with his hair combed and shoes tied and jacket on and stuff. And at least he wasn't late, like he would've been if I had taken time to put on things like shoes and jackets and bras.
I swear, I woke up in time. Six o'clock, I was lying awake in bed. And with my typical morning routine, I can even get out of bed at 7:00 (not that I ever get to, mind you) and still make it out the door by 7:50. But for some reason this morning everything just conspired against me. I walked into the living room and nearly stumbled into a puddle of pee on the carpet. I believe it came from the pug, but who knows? Anything is possible. So I had to remedy that. And then deal with the fact that Coby had managed to keep his Pull-Up dry overnight, but pooped in it immediately upon waking up. Blah. (Yeah, potty training is going phenomenally, thanks.) Changing a poopy Pull-Up is not like changing a poopy diaper. They're not equipped to handle such disasters.
Then Colin wanted his waffles cut up like his brothers, which he never does. In fact, he usually gets mad if I cut them up. But he has a loose tooth, and it's sore, and I should have remembered our exchange from yesterday's breakfast ...
Colin: It's kind of hard to chew on my right side because I have a wiggly tooth.
Me: So chew on your left side.
Colin: ... but I'm right-handed.
So anyway, the extra cutting-up-of-waffles took another chunk out of my time budget this morning. And then Colin's button-up shirt needed a quick ironing.
While I was
Guess what? He wasn't. So I had done all this ironing, which took like eight minutes, and he was still standing in the living room pantsless.
And sockless. And shoeless. And with his hair sticking up in ten different directions. And with two naked little brothers, and a braless and pajama-clad mother. And we had, like, four minutes to make it out the door.
I swear, if I'd had access to a cattle prod this morning I probably would have used it. A dawdly child (or three) is the enemy of the morning routine. And no threat of, "You're going to be late for school!" seemed to faze anybody ... at all.
Even when we got to school, Colin lingered incessantly in the car while I "dropped him off." (Pushed him out, is more like it.) He had to give his brothers hugs and kisses. He had to put his backpack on his back instead of carrying it. He had to ask a ton of the random questions Colin is famous (or perhaps infamous?) for. I seriously felt like opening his door, giving him the boot, and speeding away.
But I didn't, because I'd already reached my bad-mom quota for the morning, what with the underdressed children in the back seat. So I patiently but firmly let him know that there would be no more talking, that he had to get out of the car. And he did.
With one minute to spare.
Thank goodness nothing happened on the way back home ... no breakdowns or fender-benders. Because a late slip from school, we could handle. But an accident while braless in public? I shudder to think. (... And probably, so would everybody else.)