I was once always on time. I planned my days out by the minute. I knew exactly how many minutes it would take to get from point A to point B, and planned my day as such. I hated being early, and I didn’t like being late. I liked being exactly on time.
Something happened when I became pregnant. My internal clock slowed a bit, and my internal alarm decided to go silent. Nowadays, it seems that no matter what I do, no matter how I plan, I am always five minutes late. Sometimes 10. One time, when I was meeting other moms at the Zoo, 17 minutes. And they waited outside for me. Like nice moms who understood. It’s easy to now turn being right on time to suddenly being 17 minutes late.
Where does this time go? My problem is that no matter how far in advance I plan, I am still late. For some reason, my brain still plans things out to the minute, even though I know I need to give myself extra time. It’s as if Mommyhood eats up minutes faster than pre-Mommyhood existence.
I really do hate being late, but even more than that now, I hate not being able to be somewhere on time when I do my best to try to be early now. It’s the fact that I DO plan that makes it even more frustrating.
Most moms I know are the same way – always running just a little behind. But there is one that I know of who is always early, and I don’t know how she does it. Some of us chalk it up to the fact that she’s young – she’s got more energy and she moves faster. Or maybe she just cares more about what other people would think than we do. Who knows. Whatever it is, she is certainly not sharing her secret with us – at least the rest of us can be late together.