Excusable? Absolutely. Let me elaborate.
It’s certainly not due to excessive makeup application (that takes me a maximum of two minutes), blow-drying my hair (which I never do), or preparing dinner in the slow cooker. And definitely not because I’m folding laundry.
I find myself late this morning—again—because I simply couldn’t part with my daughter and the delightful skit we were performing on the living room carpet. In our imaginative play, Gramps (the dog dressed in a tutu and heels) was taking his preschool class—an eccentric mix of grumpy princesses, Zurg from Toy Story, a few spirited fairies, and Momsie the wicked stepmother—on a train trip to the zoo we had just constructed. However, the zoo was undergoing urgent renovations to add an animal shelter and an impressively tall tower for princesses and their wicked stepmothers to reside in for eternity.
I’m late because I made homemade chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast—again. I’m late because I couldn’t bear to make my daughter change out of her princess dress, tiara, and shoes, especially after she excitedly donned them and playfully tapped me on the head with her wand. Childhood is fleeting, and I remind myself of this constantly—almost obsessively. I often feel emotional about how quickly my kids are growing. Each pencil mark on the pantry door serves as a reminder of how fast time is passing.
Moments like these appear, repeat, and then vanish forever. Though many of these moments may seem mundane, you never know which ones will be the last. So I choose to savor every second, living fully in the present without worrying about the clock. This may sound absurd coming from a working mom who should ideally be at her desk, energized and ready to tackle the day by 9 a.m. But I’m simply weary of the rush.
I want to allow my children the opportunity to sprawl on the living room floor, imagining and arranging their scenes without the pressure of time. When it’s 7:30 a.m. and my daughter asks if she can “please!” paint or use the glitter glue, I want to say yes. Yes to building a volcano that erupts with glitter. Yes to baking cupcakes with purple frosting. Yes to creating a fairy garden in the grass. Yes to dancing in our pajamas to Johnny Cash.
I want to be the “Mom of Yes.” Instead, I often feel like the “Mom of No,” the one who rushes everywhere and is preoccupied with checking off boxes on a never-ending to-do list. It’s a version of motherhood that clashes with my true self—laid-back, creative, and easygoing. Can a free spirit also be a Type A personality?
It’s exhausting to repeatedly say no, to coax my daughter into the bathroom to brush her teeth. I often resort to guilt-inducing phrases like, “You don’t want to get cavities and have to get your teeth drilled, do you?” It works, but it feels harsh. This is when my Type A tendencies surface, and I suppress my fun-loving side, managing my kids through a series of tasks before we can leave for the day: potty, hair, clothes, socks, shoes, coats, and car.
Check, check, check, check, and check. And yet, I still find myself running late. It frustrates me that my mornings feel like a chaotic circus, filled with a long list of items to gather before we can leave the house. Bananas, water bottles, lunch bags, and, of course, the ever-elusive keys. No matter how many times I try to keep track of them, they always seem to disappear.
The state of my car is a disaster zone, with remnants of snacks strewn about and forgotten size-two clothes still in the trunk. I lament how fast I sometimes speed to preschool, only to arrive at work five minutes late. I find myself racing through school zones and running yellow lights with my kids in the backseat.
The stress of realizing I’ve once again procrastinated until the last minute to get everyone ready wears me down, especially when it comes to dinnertime—a chaotic whirlwind of meal prep, baths, and bedtime routines. I miss the days before kids when I could relax while chopping vegetables and sipping wine. Now, I barely have the energy to finish my glass by the end of the night.
I feel guilt daily for not being able to give my kids my all. I worry that my exhaustion means they get my “leftovers.” My desire is to provide them with a leisurely childhood filled with joy, and I often wish I could be a stay-at-home mom who isn’t always rushing from one obligation to the next. I long for the time to enjoy the small moments, like gazing in awe at my infant son before he grows up too quickly.
But for now, I’ll embrace being late. Excusably late. After all, I’m just a working mom striving to love my children as much as I can in the limited time we have together.
Summary
In this reflective piece, Laura Franks discusses her decision to let go of the guilt associated with being late as a working mother. Emphasizing the importance of savoring precious moments with her children, she highlights the challenges of balancing work and family life. With a desire to be a “Mom of Yes,” Laura expresses her frustrations with the daily rush and the emotional toll it takes on her. Ultimately, she chooses to embrace the chaos and prioritize quality time with her kids over strict adherence to schedules.