Every Tuesday at 11 a.m., my two sons have ukulele lessons. Every single Tuesday, without fail. The lessons take place just a short walk from our home, yet I find myself receiving texts from my friend reminding me, “Are you still coming today?” “It’s 11 a.m.!” “Is everything alright?” By that point, we’re already not attending. Yes, I’m aware it’s Tuesday and 11 a.m., but somehow, the connection to ukulele lessons escapes me. Clearly, we’re not fine, as I can’t even manage to get my kids to a simple music class that’s practically in our backyard.
This scenario is all too common. We participate in a homeschool co-op every Thursday morning, but I often forget or schedule playdates instead. Then I find myself double-booked, torn between allowing my children to engage in free play or academia. Both are valuable, making the decision far from straightforward.
I do manage to attend Swim and Gym at the YMCA on Monday afternoons, primarily because my oldest is obsessed with it and consistently reminds me. I often focus on schoolwork, preparing lunch, or running errands, only for him to interrupt with, “Mama, we have Swim and Gym today!” He does the same with his friend Leo. “It’s Leo Day!” he exclaims upon waking. My heart sinks. Yes, it is indeed “Leo Day.” Relying on a six-year-old to keep my schedule organized is less than ideal.
Doctor’s appointments? Don’t even ask. I have to input them into my phone to remind me. I’d like to streamline this for every event, but I struggle with the technology. My attempts to simplify it have only resulted in confusion and missed reminders. Despite the advances in tech, I remain at a loss.
It’s not just my forgetfulness; punctuality is another challenge. I’ve determined it takes about an hour per child to prepare, which means I need to wake up three hours before any event. This typically plays out in one of two ways: I either get distracted online, sipping coffee and applying makeup, while the kids resist getting dressed, or I successfully get them ready only to realize we have an hour to spare. Then, we move at a snail’s pace, letting the dogs in and out and slowly putting on shoes. We inevitably stop at Starbucks, resulting in either being fashionably late or unreasonably early.
Showing up on time is a foreign concept for us. When we do arrive, it’s often a chaotic scene. My kids frequently sport wild hairdos resembling hedgehogs, and we might skip brushing our teeth. The baby usually has shoes—unless he’s thrown them during the car ride. I’m that mom who forgets the water bottle, snacks, or any essential items for activities. As a result, I embody the stereotype of a disorganized mother. It’s a running joke that I’m either early or late, but the reality is more manageable than it appears. My children don’t actually suffer; I’m fortunate to have friends who are understanding.
I wish I could be more like those typical mothers who arrive promptly at 11 a.m. equipped with juice boxes and neatly styled hair. But until that day comes, we’ll continue to roll in either a half hour late or a half hour early—sans perfect hairstyles. It’s a litmus test for friendship: if you can’t handle our beautifully chaotic reality, perhaps we’re not meant to be friends. And for that, I’m grateful.
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In summary, my chaotic life as a mother may seem messy, but I embrace it. My children are happy, and I’m fortunate to have friends who understand. Here’s to all the moms out there who are navigating their own unique challenges!
Keyphrase: disorganized mom experience
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