Let me share my reasoning behind this decision.
It’s certainly not because I’ve spent an excessive amount of time on my makeup (two minutes, tops), styling my hair (never!), or preparing dinner in the Crock-Pot. And it’s definitely not due to folding laundry.
I’m late again this morning because I simply couldn’t bear to leave my daughter amidst the delightful skit we were performing on the living room rug. The scene featured Gramp (our dog dressed in a frock and heels) leading a group of preschool characters—a mix of grumpy princesses, Zurg from Toy Story, sprightly fairies, and the wicked stepmother, Momsie, along with a handful of beloved Little People—on a train trip to the zoo we had just built. Of course, the zoo was under sudden renovation, necessitating the construction of an animal shelter wing and a tall tower for the princesses and their wicked stepmothers to reside in forever.
I’m late because I whipped up homemade chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast—again. I’m late because I couldn’t bring myself to make my daughter take off her princess dress, tiara, and shoes mere moments after she excitedly donned them and playfully tapped my head with her wand.
Childhood is fleeting, and I remind myself of this every single day—every minute, in fact. As a highly sensitive individual, I’m acutely aware of how quickly my children are growing. I often find myself shedding internal tears as I watch the pencil marks on the pantry door stack higher with each passing month.
Moments like these come and go, never to return. Each moment, no matter how monotonous, is precious. You never quite know which ones will be the last. So, I choose to relish them, to be fully present in each moment without the constraints of time. I know this may sound absurd coming from a working mom who should be at her desk, ready to tackle the day by 9 a.m. But I’m exhausted from the constant rush.
I’m tired of hurrying my kids through their mornings. I want them to sprawl out on the living room floor, imagining and creating without interruption, just so we can make it out the door in time. When my daughter asks if she can paint or use glitter glue at 7:30 a.m., with her hair still messy and teeth unbrushed, I want to say yes. Yes to building glittering volcanoes! Yes to cupcakes with purple frosting! Yes to creating fairy gardens in the grass! Yes to dancing in our pajamas!
I aspire to be a “Mom of Yes.” Yet, most days, I feel like a “Mom of No”—the one rushing from task to task. This version of myself clashes with my true nature, which is laid-back, creative, and relaxed. Is it possible to be a Type A free spirit?
It pains me to say no repeatedly, and sometimes I feel like a frantic tour guide, herding my kids through the various tasks we need to complete before heading out the door on what I call the “Mama Train”: potty, hair, clothes, socks, sneakers, coat, car. Check, check, check, check, and check. And still, I find myself late. It’s baffling.
I’m fed up with mornings feeling like a chaotic circus, a checklist of tasks I need to complete before we can leave. Bananas, cell phones, water bottles, binkies, diapers, lunches—oh, and where are my keys? Despite my best efforts to remember where I place them, they always seem to disappear.
And let’s not even get started on my car. I won’t even mention the twelve leftover Teddy Grahams on the floor or the bag of size-two clothes I found in the trunk—size two was three years ago!
I feel guilty for speeding to preschool just to arrive five minutes late for work, often pushing the limits of speed in school zones with my kids in the backseat. I hate the stress that comes from realizing I’ve waited until the last minute yet again to get us all ready to leave.
Dinnertime is no different. It’s a whirlwind of preparing meals, running baths, and bedtime routines. I look back to the days before kids when chopping vegetables while sipping wine was a relaxing activity. Now, I can’t even finish a glass of wine before collapsing from exhaustion.
I admit I sometimes exhibit husband-like tendencies, such as using the last bit of toilet paper without replacing the roll. At least there are tissues on the back of the toilet, right? It’s laughable how starved for time I feel.
I constantly grapple with guilt for not being able to give my all to my kids. Sometimes, I’m so fatigued that they only receive my “leftovers.” I want to be more present. I wish I could be a stay-at-home mom, free from the daily rush, someone who can take the time to replace toilet paper rolls and fold bath towels perfectly. I long for moments to just sit in awe of my four-month-old son before he grows up too fast.
But for now, I’ll embrace being late—excusable late.
Please excuse me. I’m a working mom, striving to love my kids fully every second of the time I have with them.
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Summary:
In this lighthearted reflection, a working mom shares her decision to stop feeling guilty about being late. She emphasizes the importance of cherishing fleeting moments with her children, choosing joy over rushing. Despite the chaos of morning routines and the guilt of not always being fully present, she embraces her identity as a mom who wants to savor every second with her kids.