Let me share why I’ve decided it’s time to stop feeling guilty about my tardiness. Spoiler alert: it has nothing to do with spending too much time on my hair or makeup (which takes me a mere two minutes) or prepping dinner in the slow cooker. And no, it’s definitely not because I’m busy folding laundry.
This morning, I found myself running late—again—because I simply couldn’t tear myself away from my daughter and our delightful little playtime on the living room rug. We were deep into a creative skit featuring Gramp, the dog dressed in a frock and heels, leading his preschool students—a motley crew of cranky princesses, Zurg from Toy Story, some fairies, Momsie (the wicked stepmother), and her beloved Little People—on a whimsical train trip to the zoo we had just constructed. Of course, the zoo was in the midst of a surprise renovation to add an animal shelter and a lofty tower for the princesses and their wicked stepmothers to reside in forever.
I’m excusably late because I made a batch of homemade chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast—again. I didn’t want to make my daughter change out of her princess dress, tiara, and shoes right after she excitedly put them on and tapped me on the head with her wand. Childhood is fleeting, and as a sensitive person, I’m acutely aware of this. I can’t help but obsess over how fast my kids are growing, as the pencil marks on our pantry door keep climbing higher and higher with each passing month.
These moments come and go, and even though many may seem monotonous, you never quite know which ones will be the last. So, I want to savor every second, living in the moment without a care for the clock. I know this probably sounds silly coming from a working mom who should be at her desk ready to work by 9 a.m., but I’m just so over the rush.
I’m tired of hurrying my kids through their mornings. I want them to have the chance to sprawl out on the living room floor, imagining and setting up their scenes without interruption just so we can pay the bills. When it’s 7:30 a.m. and my daughter asks if she can paint or break out the glitter glue, I want to say yes. Yes to building a volcano that erupts with glitter! Yes to making cupcakes with purple frosting! Yes to creating a fairy garden in the grass! Yes to dancing to Johnny Cash in our pajamas! I want to be a “Mom of Yes.”
But too often, I feel like a “Mom of No,” rushing everywhere and constantly checking items off my to-do list. I turn into a frantic tour guide, ushering my kids through all the necessary stops before we can leave: potty, hair, clothes, socks, sneakers, coat, car—check, check, check, check. And yet, I still end up late.
I’m exhausted by the chaotic mornings that feel more like a circus act than a family routine. The endless list of things to grab before heading out the door—bananas, water bottles, baby bottles, and let’s not forget the all-important keys—leaves me feeling drained. I’m sickened by how fast I sometimes drive to get to preschool on time, only to arrive late for work.
Dinner time is just as frenzied, and I miss the days when I could find relaxation in chopping vegetables while sipping on wine. Now, I can barely finish a glass at night because I’m too exhausted. I even find myself neglecting simple tasks—like replacing the toilet paper roll—because there just isn’t enough time.
I constantly feel guilty for not being able to give my kids 100 percent. I wish I could be a stay-at-home mom, someone who isn’t rushing from one task to the next, someone who has time to appreciate each moment with my children before they grow up.
So yes, I’ll be late. Excusably late. I’m just a working mom trying to love my kids as much as I can in the time I have with them.
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Summary
In this heartfelt reflection, a working mom shares her decision to let go of the guilt surrounding her habitual lateness. Emphasizing the importance of cherishing fleeting moments with her children, she expresses her desire to be a “Mom of Yes” instead of succumbing to the pressures of time. With a lighthearted tone, she captures the chaos of motherhood, the struggles of balancing work and family life, and ultimately, the joy found in embracing every moment, no matter how late she may be.