My husband and I are completely opposite on most things most of the time..... He is a math genius, and anything other than the basic one plus one and simple division (with aid of a calculator) are utterly lost on me. I, on the other hand, love to write which boggles my husbands brain. Yet, one thing we can agree on, is being on time OR early to events, church, parties, etc.... I had always been taught, as well as my husband, that being late to something tells people that your time is not as important as mine. SO, how did we end up with a daughter that is perpetually late, always looking around for things the last minute and is the ultimate in oblivious to the clock.
This morning was no exception. As usual, we woke up at 6:30 to begin our before school regime. I have decided that all the kids take showers, baths or whatnot the night before because it just added to our delay in the morning. Ok, back to the story, anyway, we get up. I wake Ally up first and tell her to get up and get breakfast. Ten minutes later she finally gets up. Walks around in a daze for another ten minutes and then begins the process of finding her clothes ( which she already got out the night before). This brings us to 7am at least. The bus comes at 7:40. Again, I remind her to get her breakfast. Five minutes later she is in the bathroom washing her hair AGAIN. Again, I remind her we are leaving in 20 minutes for the bus. Is she dressed? No. Is her hair done? No, washed yes, combed no. I tell her that she needs to put her lunch in her bookbag. "ok" she says. Five minutes later I look, and the lunch is still sitting on the counter. UGH. So by this time we are at what, like ten minutes before we need to leave. Again, with agitation in my voice, I say to miss Ally, "Ally, we are leaving in ten minutes, you NEED to get dressed, put your lunch in your bag and get your shoes on."
All the while, my blood pressure is rising, my eyes are starting to twitch and Ally looks at me like I'm completely over-reacting.
Time to leave. I am walking out the door.... actually, I lie. I've learned that if I walk out the door before the kids, that is usually a clear sign we will miss the bus, so I have learned to be the last one herding the chicks out the door. But I digress..... I tell them I'm walking out the door. The boys grab their things and head out the door. I call, no scream, for Ally. She come out of the bedroom, buttoning her pants, shirt half on, hair still wet, no shoes on, lunch on the counter, book-bag no where to be found, and the look of sheer disbelief that I, yes, I could have made her late!
