This morning, my child was still munching on his breakfast when we were meant to be out the door. I had set the alarm for 6 AM, aiming for a 7 AM departure. He sleeps in his clothes (quirky, I know), doesn’t fuss over his hair, the TV was off, and there were no accidents or injuries. I really can’t explain how we lost that hour, but, once again, we were late.
And here’s the kicker: my son is 14, not a toddler clinging to his Hot Wheels and oblivious to the importance of time. He understands the urgency; he tries, and so do I. Yet, we just can’t seem to sync up.
This chaotic routine has been ongoing for years: “Lucas, we’re going to be late, please hurry!” He’ll make an effort to speed up, but it’s as if he has no clue how to efficiently move. Frustration mounts, he stumbles, dumps his backpack’s contents onto the floor, and I’m left clenching my jaw, knowing there’s nothing I can do to make things go faster.
“Let’s hustle, Lucas! We’re late again,” I remind him for what feels like the millionth time.
His typical reply? “Yelling at me isn’t going to help!”
This dynamic has its challenges, especially now that he towers over me at 6’1″ and outweighs me by at least 30 pounds—physically moving him is no longer an option.
With two more kids to get ready, chaos is inevitable. Someone always needs to use the bathroom, another is parched, and good luck finding matching shoes, coats, or backpacks. Lucas might complain that his socks feel strange, or I might forget the dog as we pull out for her vet appointment.
Yes, being a parent is my alibi for tardiness, and it’s a valid one. Some might deem it inconsiderate, but I can’t help but wonder what kind of secret potion those punctual parents are using. I’m over here, panting, trying to get my youngest into a coat while searching for his permission slip.
Maybe someday I’ll join the ranks of those who are perpetually on time, and I won’t feel like I’m racing against the clock while simultaneously moving at a snail’s pace. But that day is not today.
Most parents I know who struggle with punctuality aren’t leisurely sipping coffee while watching the news, thinking, “I can be late because I have kids.” No, they’re frantically checking the time, internally berating themselves for yet another late arrival while urging their kids to hurry up. It’s a stressful, chaotic experience, not a deliberate choice to keep anyone waiting.
When you’re a parent, unexpected events occur—sometimes literally. Being late is often the reality, despite our best efforts to be on time. It’s not because I feel entitled; we’ve prepared, organized, and planned, yet something always goes awry.
Being late doesn’t make you a bad person or indicate a lack of respect for others’ time. It means life’s curveballs and your kids are challenging you to keep pace, and if someone judges you for being ten minutes late because you were searching for a lost pacifier under the car seat, just let it slide. You don’t have time for that, as you’re too busy trying to get your family out the door.
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In summary, parenting can be a whirlwind of activity that often leads to tardiness, despite our best intentions. It’s a common struggle that many families face while trying to navigate the challenges of daily life.
Keyphrase: Parenthood as an excuse for tardiness
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