3.01.2011

Why I Was Late

I walked into my MOPS meeting 20 minutes late this morning. And I'm supposed to be there at least 15 minutes early. So I guess I was really 35 minutes late.

And it wasn't my fault.

It never is, is it?

Here are the reasons why, and consequently, each of my excuses add up to that lost 35 minutes.

First of all, I had to get the Peach French Toast ready for the meeting. I made it last night, but had to cook it this morning... let it sit out for 30 minutes, bake for 20 minutes with the cover on, 30 more with the cover off. Putting it in and out of the oven and setting the timer cost me about 7 minutes. You can't have toddlers' hands near an open oven, so this takes a little more finesse than you might think. Just to give you a visual: my legs, used as gates, are an integral part of this process.

Then I decided to battle the boys at breakfast this morning. Bad timing? Probably. But I'm not completely sorry. They now understand that if they want to eat, they must sit in their highchairs (NOT mommy's lap.) That's been a project for the past two weeks. But starting this morning, the same rule applied to drinking their juice. I just won't stand for it anymore. They are more than capable of drinking of their sippy cup in their highchairs and not in my lap. Jack fussed for a moment, but decided to give in rather quickly; I'm sure we'll have that battle another day. Ben, on the other hand, decided to test to see just how serious I was. He screamed for 10 minutes. Screamed. Ten minutes doesn't sound like a lot, but I will assure you: when you're listening to a toddler screaming, it's a lot of time. I sat next to him, with a (fake) calm look on my face and a determined attitude. I was going to win this one. And I did. But that ate up 10 minutes of our time. It was worth it, but still, there's 10 minutes.

And then when I changed Ben's diaper this morning, he soaked through his onesie. The onesie I had been planning on him wearing today. I went inside to get a clean one, but realized I had forgotten to take the clothes out of the washer last night... a load that was washing every single other onesie we own. Thankfully, I had a random one that was clean so quickly made the adjustment. But not until we ate up another 5 minutes. Normally this simple task wouldn't require five whole minutes. But since their clothes are in a dresser in my bedroom - the only room of the house they are not allowed - it took me a while to usher them out once they had wiggled their way inside to grab the coveted remotes. These boys don't even watch television, but they understand the Power of the Remote.

Where am I right now? Twenty three minutes? I said we were 35 minutes late, but don't worry, I've got a few other excuses to make up the last twelve.

When we were ready to go, I gathered all materials and set them by the door before running into the bathroom to blowdry my hair. Normally, I would just leave the house with a wet head, but I'm trying to take better care of myself and blowdrying my hair makes me feel a little more put-together. So I do it (but only when I'm planning on leaving the house.) I peeked out of the bathroom every few seconds to be sure the boys weren't on top of eachother or climbed onto the top bookshelf again. I saw Jack running into the living room with my yellow notebook. Wait a minute. That notebook was at the door... in my bag... nope, it is now on the floor as well as all of its contents. Chasing Jack down and convincing him to put the notebook BACK inside my bag... another 2 minutes.

The last 10 minutes were eaten by the two trips I made to the van (up and down two flights of stairs) to load it with all of our goodies before coming back up to usher my lovely boys. A few additional minutes were added on to coax the boys into putting their jackets on, not running away with their brother's hat and willingly walking down the stairs without picking up every single one of the shoes at the landing. And then there's my boys' crazy desire to hold onto a fistful of snow, which had to be granted or else the 25 minute ride would have been nuts. I'll just round all of that down to 10 minutes.

And that, my friends, is why I was late. I'd say it won't happen again, but... well... I know better.

1 comment:

  1. Oh, Mindy! Thanks for the laugh, I'm just sorry that it's at your expense! I love that the boys need a fistful of snow before getting in the car, that is so cute. (I'm sure it's not so much fun for you when it melts, sorry again!)

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