My kids have ukulele lessons every Tuesday at 11 a.m. without fail. They take place with a friend of mine, just a short walk from our home. Yet, every Tuesday at 11 a.m., I get a barrage of texts from her: “Are you still coming this week?” “It’s 11 a.m.!” “Is everything okay?” By that time, we’re clearly not making it. I know it’s 11 a.m. I know it’s Tuesday. Somehow, I just fail to connect the dots for ukulele lessons. And, no, we’re definitely not fine if I can’t even manage to get my kids to a regular music class that’s practically in our backyard.
This situation is par for the course. We used to have a homeschool co-op every Thursday morning, but I often forgot about it or scheduled playdates instead. More than once, I found myself double-booked, torn between letting the kids enjoy unstructured playtime or academic engagement. Both experiences are valuable, so choosing one over the other was never easy.
I did manage to attend Swim and Gym at the YMCA on Monday afternoons, but it was only because my oldest was obsessed with it and continually reminded me. I’d be engrossed in planning schoolwork for the morning, cooking lunch, or running errands, only for him to interrupt with, “Mama, we have Swim and Gym today!” He did the same with his friend Max, excitedly exclaiming, “It’s Max Day!” when he woke up. My heart would drop. Indeed, it was Max Day. I’m relying on my 6-year-old to keep track of my schedule.
Don’t even get me started on remembering doctor’s appointments. I have to input them into my phone to keep them straight. If only I could automate that process! I tried once, but it was a disaster. I either messed up the entries, missed the alerts, or something else went wrong. Despite all the technology at my fingertips, I often feel utterly helpless.
It’s not just forgetfulness; I’m also chronically late. I’ve figured out that it takes about an hour for each child to get ready, which means parents of multiple kids better not plan to get any sleep. I typically aim to wake up three hours before we need to leave. This goes one of two ways: sometimes I get distracted online, sipping coffee and applying makeup while the kids refuse to get dressed. Before I know it, I realize we have just twenty minutes to get somewhere twenty minutes away, and no one has brushed their teeth yet, not to mention I still need my Starbucks fix. So, we often end up half an hour late.
Other days, I wake up with plenty of time, feed the kids quickly, find them clothes, and even manage my makeup without a hitch. We get our teeth brushed and suddenly realize we have an entire hour to spare. So, we take our time letting the dogs out, then back in, and slowly get our shoes on. Eventually, we strap everyone into the car and make a detour to Starbucks. We drive leisurely, but somehow, we still arrive half an hour early. If we’re visiting someone’s home, we aimlessly circle the block for half an hour. At public places, we entertain ourselves until the others arrive.
Arriving on time is a foreign concept for us.
And let’s not talk about appearances. More often than not, my kids’ hair is unkempt, resembling little hedgehogs. They may or may not have brushed their teeth. The baby usually has shoes, since he tends to toss them during car rides, but occasionally, he shows up barefoot because I mistakenly assumed he tossed them. I’m that mom who forgets the water bottle, the snacks, and just about every essential item for our outings.
This leads others to think I’m a disorganized mess, fulfilling every stereotype of a mom who can’t get it together. It’s become a running joke that I’m either ridiculously early or fashionably late. In reality, it’s not as chaotic as it appears, but I often feel like the frazzled mom, and some may worry my kids are missing out. But honestly, they’re doing just fine. I’m fortunate that my friends are understanding. I sometimes wish I could be like those “normal” moms who arrive exactly at 11 a.m. with snacks and perfectly styled kids.
But until that day comes, we’ll continue to be half an hour late or early. And don’t expect perfect hairstyles. If that’s a dealbreaker, then maybe our friendship just isn’t meant to be. In the end, this has become a pretty good litmus test for who can handle my chaos. And for that, I’m grateful.
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Summary
This article humorously captures the chaotic life of a mom struggling to manage her schedule and responsibilities. With relatable anecdotes about forgetting appointments, being late, and relying on her kids for reminders, it paints a picture of the everyday challenges many parents face. While she may not fit the mold of the perfectly organized mother, she embraces her reality with humor and a sense of community.