Time Management

I used to be the most prompt person in the world. As a matter of fact, I would arrive at any destination ages before the time everyone had agreed to meet. Then I would stand there checking my watch every thirty seconds wondering where everyone was, getting more and more resentful and cursing the thoughtlessness of so-called friends. How dare they leave me standing all by myself? And by the time they arrived (usually right on time) I was invariably grumpy having gone through every possible worst-case scenario in my head, convinced I would be stood up. Totally ridiculous? Of course. Yet I was unable to stop myself. And there was a part of me, a not inconsiderable part, that was inordinately proud of my of über-promptness. In some indefinable and mysterious way, this made me better than others. That and my teeth.

But as I've gotten older, the earliness of my arrival at events has been diminishing. It started, not surprisingly, with having a child. After I had my first child, I was no longer über-prompt. I was merely prompt. Even with two babies in tow I wasn't late to anything, but I was no longer special. My friends and family welcomed this loss since the decline in my specialness quotient also heralded a decline in my annoying quotient.

My third child really did me in and moved me squarely into the always late category. Getting anywhere on time with three children under the age of four is close to impossible. And it hasn't gotten any better as my children have become older and more able to take care of themselves. If anything, it's gotten worse. I can't really blame them, although I would like to.

There are so many things to do that I'm always telling myself I can fit in just one more task, which of course I can't. I have now become the person who is always the last to arrive. And the lateness of my arrivals at anything and everything is causing my annoying quotient to creep back up again. One day I was 20 minutes late picking up my kids from school. When I finally arrived, they were the only kids left, standing there looking forlorn. One was even on the verge of tears. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!

I am no longer über-prompt. I am not even close to prompt. I am always tardy. I hate it. It drives me crazy. I hate that I can't estimate how much time it will take me to complete tasks. I hate that I blithely assume all stop lights will be green for me despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. I hate that I have become the person that always annoyed me in the past. And I despair that the future holds nothing but me coming late to the party.

I am constantly drilling into my kids the virtue of promptness and haranguing them to get a move on. The other day as the time for piano lessons was getting closer, I decided that if we wanted to have even a hope of being on time, I needed to kick the kids off their video games. I asked Sabrina to tell her brother and sister to turn off the Wii. She yelled down the stairs, "Rose and Calvin! Turn off the Wii! Get your shoes on! Get your piano books! Make sure you have something to do in the car while you're waiting!" And then she turned to me, beaming, and said, "Above and beyond, baby! Above and beyond!" Maybe there's hope for the future after all.