you take so long to get ready

by ck on September 21, 2012

Do I? Do I really? 

Actually, it took me less than ninety seconds to prepare the mug of coffee you claim is making you late for school. And that would’ve been done already if I hadn’t noticed that the porch door was still open, despite having asked you repeatedly to close it. While shutting it myself (which was necessary, need I remind you, because the dog still has diarrhea and tends to let loose on the only carpet we have, which is next to your legos, which is also where) I spotted your shoes. To be honest, I’m not sure why they weren’t on your feet given how many times I’d checked in on their whereabouts, and you assured me they were. And to review: if it’s really that important to you that we walk to school instead of drive, you’ll need arch support.

After grabbing your shoes I noticed your backpack, which contrary to earlier claims, was not on your person, so I snatched it up. But because it wasn’t zipped everything fell out and needed to be repacked. I’m sorry for your mangled sandwich, but no, I’m not giving you money to buy lunch. Don’t look at it. Just eat it.

And I’m sorry, but you have to wear sunscreen year-round. Non-negotiable, you know this. Stand still. And you wouldn’t have to wear yesterday’s braids if…oh, that’s right. Those are new braids. Two for you, and two for your sister. I know she copied you, but let’s be honest, I do killer braids. And at 5 minutes a pop, that’s twenty. And don’t pretend to be put out by this. You only asked for braids so you could play the new game on my phone while I did them. I’m not dumb, I know this. You know what else I know? If you don’t hurry up there’s no way we can walk.

Jackets! It’s chilly out. A sweater. Sweatshirt. Something. Look, I don’t even care if you wear one, I just don’t want to hear your mouth if you’re cold. I’ve known you a long time, I’m familiar with how your body works. Plus you got your insulation from me. Put one on, or prepare to shiver in silence.

And look, maybe if you’d gone to the bathroom one of the first three times I suggested it, your sister would’ve as well, thus avoiding the five minute battle over who got to use the downstairs throne, which morphed into a diatribe on how she always copies you, though at this point all she was doing was peeing. And since this isn’t the season for hand-washing being an option (not that there ever is a season for that, believe it or not) it was necessary for me to check her hands several times. 1) to see if they were actually washed 2) to make sure soap was included 3) and water.

From there I had to flip the couch cushions in case the dog decided to climb up there while we were gone, something she’s not allowed, and something discouraged especially because of her #3 issues. That reminded me to check in on the status of her breakfast, something I’m not responsible for. Yet as it turned out, if I hadn’t looked, she wouldn’t have eaten. Next time please feed her right after you eat.

So forgive me if I waited until this point to make my coffee. It’s usually not until everyone heads out the door that my brain has enough space to recall that I’d really, really like some. And since I prefer it hot, I need to make it just before I lock the front door and start the process of getting you guys into the car because I’m sorry, but we’re late. We don’t have the time to walk.






Kate September 21, 2012 at 9:49 am


I adore your wit and timing. I’m pretty sure comic timing in text is even harder than in speech. Not just because I can’t do either.

Kathryn Arnett September 21, 2012 at 11:35 am

I’m laughing so hard, I literally want to roll on the floor to hold my stomach. You have completely ruined my ability to work. I’m sure my ability to breathe without snorting will return soon.

Alison September 21, 2012 at 12:18 pm

OMG. Dying of laughter over here. This could be our house, sans dog. Although the coffee ALWAYS gets made –and guzzled–first, otherwise I would not be able to handle everything that happens between coffee and drop-off.

Lesley September 21, 2012 at 6:18 pm

This is my life….every…single…day… AND we are never late.

Gigi September 21, 2012 at 6:24 pm

This sounds oh-so-familiar!

Dawn @What's Around the Next Bend? September 24, 2012 at 1:22 am

Crack me up! This is why I am late EVERY where I go… and I don’t even drink coffee. LOL

Court September 30, 2012 at 12:52 am

I hate days when I’m a zombie stumbling around in need of coffee!!

jessica October 1, 2012 at 2:43 pm

seriously – do you live in my house and I just don’t realize it?

Naptimewriting October 7, 2012 at 1:22 pm

I second Lesley. Every single bit of this…and we’re never late.

But you know what? It’s taking a very high toll on my adrenaline system. I’m on decaf, small ones, and my heart is still racing with the time pressure and the rage. It’s not hard to do what I fathermucking ask when I fathermucking ask it. It’s the same every day: eat, put on your clothes, brush your teeth, pack your backpack, shoe yourself, and get your lotion. Same every day. Why, why why why why why why why can’t you just do it?

I really want, one day, to ask once. Nicely. Then scoop them up and take them, in their jammies, and drop them off.

But then the older one would complain the younger one was copying him.

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