Monday, February 13, 2012

All in the Timing.

Yesterday was rather limited because my youngest had the county band practice - it's not the real county band, but rather a middle school version.  She was late because of me - I was trying to get something done so I could feel productive.  I was not brought up to be late, believe me, but somehow my husband's side of the family has rubbed off on me.  It has somehow become okay to be a little bit late if you are working on something and need to finish it up. 

The way we were brought up, my sister and I, was you were 15 minutes early for everything, and when you were at the airport with Dad, and they called the first call for seats, you were on the plane - even though you weren't traveling with children under the age of 5 or anywhere needing assistance with boarding. 

My poor children must be so confused, because I still pretty much raised them up the way I was raised (minus the boarding the airplane thing - I figure your seat isn't going anywhere and sitting for an extra bunch of time in a plane where everyone is bumping you with their bags isn't productive), but their dad seems to almost invariably take a shower right when it's time to leave.  My kids need to pick their model - if you are the 14 year old and it's a school day, you pick the dad model - only it isn't a shower you are doing at the last minute, it's getting out of bed.  I wake him up at 5:30, his alarm rings at 6:00, and his feet hit the floor at 6:15 and not a minute before.  We're out the door between 5 and 7 minutes later.  Fortunately, he can eat breakfast at school. 

I have been telling him for a couple of weeks that today he needed to get up earlier, because I had to be at work earlier today.  He did get up earlier - but we still didn't get out the door until the regular time.   Sometimes I wonder if I reset his clock so it was running ahead if it would help him get up at a more reasonable hour. 

Yesterdays lateness was because I wanted to both dig up part of my garden in preparation for new planting and I wanted to clean the animal housing.  This made me so dirty I needed a bath.  My daughter just rolled her eyes at me and said, "What?  Are you dad now?" 

I just pointed out that my bath was like 3 minutes long, whereas Dad will take take his time while I am fuming out in the car - channeling my inner own father at his most timely.  The practice was 3 hours long so I cruised to town, bought some flour and butter (wishing I could make my own) and then sat in the car for two restful hours reading a book.  I know I am not the only mom who takes advantage to rest while waiting for kids to get done with activities. 

The band directors didn't let the kids out until they were well over 15 minutes past schedule, so I felt much less guilty when my daughter said, "Mr. H said I shouldn't be late again."  Since we had yet to go to Mass and the last one of the day is at 6 pm, I foresaw the problem as the band practice went late.  I started calling home (I know, I am annoying), "Make sure the boys are ready - we're going to be late...."  That was code for, "Get the boys ready, and get yourself ready - stop your project on time, take your darned bath....." 

Of course,  the boys were ready, but my husband was still working outside.  He still needed his bath.  We were five minutes late for Mass. Everyone is on Hilo time, though, so we easily found a seat - the church doesn't fill up until about 10 minutes after Mass starts.  But my upbringing still makes me cringe as we slide into our seats, late, in front of all those eyes. 

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