As a busy parent, I’ve often found myself grappling with the guilt of arriving late, but I’ve come to a realization that has eased that burden. Allow me to explain.
My lateness isn’t due to time-consuming makeup routines (that’s a quick two minutes), hair styling (which I rarely do), or even preparing dinner in advance. This morning, I was late because I wanted to cherish a magical moment with my daughter, who was deeply immersed in an imaginative skit involving her stuffed animals and our dog, who was hilariously dressed for the part. We were on a fantastical adventure where a dog in a dress was taking a troupe of quirky characters to a zoo that we had just constructed, complete with unexpected construction projects and whimsical scenarios.
I was also late because I made delicious homemade pancakes for breakfast and couldn’t bear to make my daughter change out of her princess attire just moments after she had put it on with such joy. Childhood is fleeting, and every moment counts, a truth I’m acutely aware of as I watch my children grow. I frequently reflect on how quickly time passes, from the pencil marks on the pantry door to the fleeting nature of daily experiences.
Moments like these come and go, and though they may seem ordinary, we never know which ones will be the last. So, I choose to embrace these moments, to savor them without the constraints of time pressing in on me. I realize it may sound naive, especially for a working mother expected to be at her desk by 9 a.m., but I’m simply exhausted by the constant rush.
I refuse to rush my children through their mornings. I want them to have the opportunity to spread out on the living room floor, crafting their stories and arranging their characters without feeling hurried. When my daughter excitedly asks to paint or create something magical, I want to say yes—to building volcanoes, making cupcakes, or dancing in pajamas—yet I often find myself saying no, and it feels contrary to who I am.
This internal conflict is exhausting. I feel like a frantic tour guide, herding my children through the necessary steps to get out the door: potty, hair, clothes, shoes, and more. Despite my best efforts, I’m still late. My mornings often feel like a chaotic circus, filled with checklists of things to gather before we leave. I can’t count the number of times I’ve mislaid my keys, and the mess in my car is a testament to my rushed lifestyle.
The stress of trying to arrive on time is overwhelming, and I often find myself speeding through school zones, heart racing as I try to manage everything. I long for the days when I could casually chop vegetables while sipping wine, rather than feeling like I’m in a race against the clock.
I’ve realized that while I sometimes offer my children the “leftovers” of my energy, I have so much more to give. I wish I could be a stay-at-home parent, someone who doesn’t feel the relentless pressure to rush from one obligation to another. But for now, I accept that I may be late; I’m just a working mom striving to embrace every moment with my children.
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In summary, I’ve chosen to let go of the guilt associated with being late. I want to cherish the fleeting moments of childhood and embrace the beauty of parenthood, even if it means arriving a bit later than planned.