I will never be on time. There, I said it.

  I don't know what the takeaway is here after the morning I had, but I think it is this: I will never leave the house on time, even if everything goes magically perfectly on my end because too much is out of my control, so I need to stop stressing about it. Being on time is unattainable. I am never going to be a fashion model or a soap opera actress, and I don't stress about those things. Why should I get hung up about being on time? I SHOULD NOT. It is equally out of the realm of possibility.

This morning, for example, was so smooth. Minnie woke up at 3:43, so after I was up with her for 20 minutes, I reset my alarm from 5:20 to 5:45 and went right back to sleep. I jumped out of bed and started the laundry, only a little pissed at Past Sarah for not sorting and pre-loading the washer, and I hopped on the elliptical, after reminding my coffee pot to start brewing at 6:14.

I know I wear a mask most of the day at work, so I made sure to drink my 28-ounce water bottle, refill it with mostly ice and stick in my lunch bag (Past Sarah packed an awesome hummus and spinach bowl with roaster squash AND roasted corn). I also made a coffee and chocolate milk Yeti to go, and ate a piece of 9 grain bread with peanut butter and a Greek yogurt. It was only like 6:40, and I was so on time.

I spent a few pleasant minutes with Ben and Minnie, the only other people up, and because I worked out instead of watching the news, I spent 15 minutes painstakingly straightening my hair even though it is super humid and for sure going to rain. I also drank 2 more 12-ounce tumblers of water and put my makeup on. Then, as the kids woke up and trickled into the kitchen for breakfast, I made beds and wiped down their bathrooms. I even nursed Minnie one more time and had a few extra minutes (because Past Sarah packed her work bag before she went to bed) to give Dorothy a pretty awesome Elsa side braid. By this point in my morning, it was 7:25, and I was completely on schedule.

AND THEN.

A child who will remain nameless but whom I usually take to high school on my way out the door, did something stupid somewhere in his room (the details are sketchy here-- not sure what was happening-- a fight between roomies perhaps?) and wound up with a large piece of newspaper (newspaper-like substance? maybe something worse?) in his eye that he could not get out. (I was pretty annoyed because the same nameless child just took a safety test in AP chemistry, where he learned HOW TO WASH HIS EYE with a cup and also with the eye wash faucet THAT LOOKS LIKE THE ONE WE HAVE IN OUR KITCHEN and I know he took this test because I get automated grade book updates about his progress, exacerbating my normal helicopter tendencies-- but that is another post for another day). 

Normally, I would have just gone to work and let Ben deal, which is 100% what he would do to me, and that's the right thing to do. EXCEPT. We thought the kid was going to have to go to effing urgent care for the large object in his eye, and someone would have to stay home with the other kids because we are not keeping our unvaxxed kids home from school just to drag our baby who cannot wear a mask to URGENT CARE with SICK PEOPLE in the middle of a GLOBAL PANDEMIC.

SO. I had to wait around until the thing came out of the eye (using non-lab-approved methods, I might add), and I feel like I wasted all of my past time getting ready to go to work because I LEFT A HALF HOUR LATE ANYWAY. **shakes fist at sky**

This kind of scenario is exactly what contributes to my general levels of frustration and anxiety. I can check all the boxes, cover all my bases, prepare in every possible way, AND SOMETHING GOES WRONG ANYWAY. A different something. A something I could never imagine or solve for.

Moving forward, the very best thing for me to do is realize this will always happen. There is no ideal morning-- I can repeat the form again and again, and it's never going to be perfect. I should still pack my lunch the night before when I am alone in the kitchen listening to an audio book because that's more fun than hanging out while all the kids eat breakfast where I will inevitably get sucked in to housework that isn't mine at that particular moment. BUT packing up, preparing, waking on time, etc-- those things don't mean I will have a smooth morning. It's not a clear if, then relationship, and I need to stop expecting things to work out that way. It's not about "deserving" an on time morning because I did everything "right," and I need to ditch this frame.

So, phew! Thanks kid with the weird chunk of something in your eye. I feel like I learned something this morning.

Grumpy morning Minnie, one of my favorite Minnies: