I am rarely late for things. In fact, I quite regularly early. Really early. I will rush to be early. Well, I used to. And I was ok with this, I just like to be organised. I used to bring a book with me in case I got stuck somewhere. I must admit, at first I underestimated the exact amount of time that it would take to get a tiny baby and all of its plentiful accessories out the door, but I really had no idea how long it was going to take when I had baby number two. When do you start to get ready to leave the house?
Trick question. You should always be ready to leave the house. If everyone sleeps with their coats on, it’ll save rushing in the morning.
It’s hard to get organised, and between excited/angry kids, weather challenges, memory loss and so many things to carry, it’s really a miracle that we manage to get anywhere. And it happens even to the most organised of us. Even me. In fact, especially me. I have managed to go from a paragon of industrial organisation to be reduced to having actual beads of sweat run down my face just trying to get to the shop. Today was just an ordinary trip to my mother’s house. Nothing too stressful, popped a box of chocolates into the handbag for mammy because she’s deadly, remembered to check if I had wipes AND nappies, remembered to shut and lock the front door. And oh so smug was I as I made the trip to mammies house. I even took the time on the way to sing the remaining songs from my sons Christmas play. And where is Maurice exactly, for a donkey he certainly is high maintenance.
So what did I forget? My phone, my daughters set of toys that I had left out, extra recycling that mammy had volunteered to take for me, my keys to mammies house, my small tub of Vaseline, my writing pad with all my notes in it, spare dody, my scarf, daughters hat, sons hat and gloves.
I did however remember both children and their favourite toys.
I consider that a win in the context of a few disastrous fails. No children have ever been forgotten but poor old pooh bear has been deserted a few times.
No MBA course could ever prepare you for the time management planning involved in leaving the house with a full complement of things you need. The pressure of avoiding screaming kids stuck in a traffic jam with condensation running down the inside of the car and your head would make the toughest CEO weep. For now, I must appreciate how my skillset has broadened and that now I am now qualified to run a small to medium circus. With monkeys.
Jane is a freelance writer based in Dublin; she recently left the NGO sector to pursue a career in writing. She has two children and runs the Postmodern Mammy blog when not mammying. She has also been published and may one day get around to a book. Catch up with her on Twitter or Facebook.
