Let me clarify my decision to stop feeling guilty about my tardiness. It’s not because I spent excessive time on my appearance—my makeup routine takes two minutes, and my hair is usually just left alone. Nor is it due to household chores like folding laundry.
This morning, the reason for my late arrival stems from a delightful scene I was sharing with my daughter. We were deeply engrossed in a creative skit on the living room floor, where our dog, dressed in a frilly outfit, was taking his preschool students—an eclectic mix of cranky princesses and whimsical fairies—on a fantastical train trip to our newly constructed zoo. Of course, the zoo was under construction, requiring an urgent addition of an animal shelter and a tower for the princesses.
I’m late because I made homemade chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast—again. I couldn’t bear to have my daughter remove her princess costume moments after she had excitedly donned it, complete with tiara and wand.
I constantly remind myself that childhood is fleeting. As a sensitive individual, I often become emotional over how rapidly my children are growing. The marks on the pantry door that track their height serve as a bittersweet reminder of time passing. These moments, seemingly mundane, will never return, and I want to cherish each one.
I know this may sound absurd coming from a working mother expected to be at her desk ready to go by 9 a.m. But I refuse to keep rushing through these precious mornings. I want my children to have the freedom to imagine and create without the pressure of time. When my daughter asks to paint or use glitter glue, I want to enthusiastically say yes.
Instead, I often feel like I’m perpetually saying no, rushing through our morning routine, shuffling everyone toward the door. I feel like a neurotic tour guide, checking off items on a list—potty breaks, brushing teeth, getting dressed—all while trying to keep the chaos at bay. Despite my best efforts, I still find myself late.
I grow weary of the frantic pace, the endless cycle of checklists, and the chaotic mornings that involve gathering various items like snacks, water bottles, and school supplies. Somehow, despite my organization, I frequently misplace my keys and often find remnants of snacks from days past in my car, a testament to my hectic life.
I realize I sometimes speed to ensure we make it to preschool on time, which only causes more stress. I hate how rushed I feel when I know I’ve once again waited until the last minute to gather everything we need. I long for a more leisurely pace, reminiscing about when I could enjoy cooking dinner while sipping wine, instead of feeling overwhelmed and exhausted.
I often feel guilty for not being able to give 100 percent of myself to my children. I want to be the mother who can be present, who doesn’t have to rush from one task to another. Ideally, I would love to be a stay-at-home mom, someone who has the time to savor each moment with my children.
But for now, I choose to be late—excusable late. I’m simply a working mom trying to give as much love and attention to my children as possible during the limited time we have together.
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In conclusion, while I navigate the challenges of motherhood, I will embrace the moments that matter and let go of the guilt associated with being late.
Keyphrase: Choosing to Embrace Life’s Moments as a Busy Mom
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