I like to think of myself as an organised Mum. But why is it when Monday mornings arrive I’m rushing around, dishellved and completely running behind time. This morning I was determined to be majorly organised. It’s active week at my girls school, so they have to wear their P.E kit all week. Everything was sorted, until we’re about to leave and I realise I haven’t given them any money: £2.50 voluntary contribution. (Although, this is a voluntary contribution, I’d feel very bad not giving anything). Low and behold, I have nothing except a few 2 pence pieces in my purse. So out comes the copper jar, that luckily hubby puts 10 and 20 pence pieces in. So after we’d counted out the correct money (because first time round I only put £1.50 in the little green paper bag) we headed out the door. And yes, we just made it, as the teacher blew the whistle!
The thing is, I’m the Mum that always arrives late into the playground, (actually, it’s most morning, not just Mondays) as the queues of children march miltary style (that is so not true … coats hang down backs, bags are dragged along the floor and children chat as if they have all the time in the world).
I have two places to be at the school, Gabriella is dropped off at the front, most other parents seem to find this a doddle – even those with two or more children. Not me, I’m always 10 minutes behind everyone else. So, as Lexi waits outside the nursery doors, I help little Gabriella take off her coat, (and cardigan, if she had a choice her shoes and socks would come off too!) I take out the little book where the teacher writes down their day’s events, we put away her bag, pick out her name, hang up her water bottle, before I can kiss her goodbye for three hours. I leave Gabriella smiling happily and ready to get filthy in water, paint and snot. Lexi and I then run top speed (okay, power-walk) round the back of the school, in hope the queue hasn’t actually gone in. Generally she makes it to the end of the queue, another happy child, mainly because she isn’t officially late! This morning however, Lexi had to go in first we were that late! Now I think the main reason why I get so wound up about this is because I hate lateness. I’m stickler for being on time. If you’ve read How My Life Became Chaos you’ll know where Kat’s dislike for lateness comes from. B.C (before children) I was always on time, if not early.
I read ‘Dont Sweat the Small Stuff’ by Richard Carlson, brilliant book – a must-read. I followed his tips on leaving the house on time. But still sometimes one child needs the toilet, or like this morning, I totally forgot something, but if I’d followed Richard Carlson’s tips I wouldn’t have been ‘sweating the small stuff’. But anyway, on top of Richard Carlson’s advice, I also decided this morning that I know what happens … the magic of the universe makes the time go faster. It can be the only explanation as to why I get out of bed at 6.30am and try to leave the house by 8.25am, but always seem to be 10 minutes behind. No matter how well I plan the morning, I’m fighting against the minutes that definitely double up. Because it couldn’t possibly be my fault; I hate lateness. So it’s official, and I think many of you will agree that the time definitely goes faster on a morning. So tomorrow morning, because I’ve figured this out, I’m going to watch the clock and I’m going to beat it. If all else fails, I’m going to re-read Richard Carlson’s, Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff. It’s a must-read!