Dear Mr. Johnson,
I see you making your rounds, and I have to admit, I’m often in a bit of a frenzy. I feel it’s time I share a glimpse into my morning chaos.
Getting my kids ready for school has become one of the most overwhelming parts of my day, a challenge I know many parents face daily. The pressure can be intense, and some days I wonder how I manage it all as just one person.
My kids’ moods swing dramatically during our morning routine. They either dawdle over breakfast, savoring each bite of cereal, or they’re reasonably cooperative, making it seem like we might actually be on time. Yet even in those moments of relative success, the anxiety of arriving at the bus stop early looms large.
As parents, we know that even when things seem under control, life throws surprises our way—like unexpected illnesses, forgotten assignments, or the bus arriving earlier than scheduled. When I find myself ahead of time, it feels like a personal triumph. But with children who often resist the morning rush, it sends me into a spiral of stress and self-doubt.
I can hear other parents saying, “Make sure you eat your veggies, or you’ll end up like Sarah, missing the bus and frantically waving from the yard!” It’s a terrifying thought.
I’ve been that parent, running across the lawn, waving my arms in a panic, pleading with you to “Please wait!” And I’ve regretted every step. I know I should feel embarrassed, but the truth is, this bus-related anxiety runs in my family. My mom had her own challenges with us missing the bus, resorting to driving like a madwoman behind it, her hair in disarray and her nightgown on. I understand now the pressure she felt, and I empathize with the toll managing school schedules can take.
I’ve had my share of close calls, like when my dog dashed out the door and hopped onto the bus while I chased after her yelling like a lunatic. I’ve even considered firing flares into the sky to signal, “Mayday! We’re running late because of a pant crisis!”
Once, I was a parent who had it together. I left for work dressed and ready by 7:45 a.m. Now, my morning routine often consists of a quick kiss on the forehead and a shove out the door, hoping for the best. I pray that nothing goes awry—no tumbles or spills that would send me rushing outside in my old pajama pants, facing both you and a line of curious neighbors. It’s a tough spot to be in.
I know your job is demanding, and I appreciate your work with all of our little ones. If you could keep these things in mind when you’re honking the horn because we’re not outside yet, I would be incredibly grateful. Please be kind to my children; they have enough on their plates as it is.
Thank you for your understanding and patience. I’m sharing this with you not to make excuses, but to give you some insight into our chaotic mornings.
Warm regards,
Emily