Never on Time, but No Need to Panic
Have you ever had one of those days when you were late for everything? I had one today. Actually, it started earlier this morning when I was late going to bed. The book I was reading, Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind by Ann B. Ross, had me spellbound. When I crawled into bed with my book, I had great intentions of being asleep in less than 15 minutes, but one hour turned into two, then three. Before I realized, it was 3:00 a.m., and I had my second wind. It had to be nearly 4:00 a.m. when I finally dozed off to sleep.
The alarm clock buzzed. I moaned and rolled over wondering how I was possibly going to face the day with so little sleep. Funny, when my children were babies, I survived on less sleep than that. True, I was always on the brink of insanity, but then I was a lot younger. Young people bounce back faster. I needed my sleep.
I dragged myself out of bed, made the coffee and finished my morning duties. The book got my attention again, and I read for ten minutes. "Oh no!" the dog. I tossed my book aside, grabbed the phone (I needed to make a phone call before I left), put the dog on the leash and walked outside while dialing the phone number. Cars whizzed by while I waited for the person on the other line to answer, "Whoosh" a car went by almost drowning out the sound of the voice on the other end. "I hope they can hear me," I thought. They did. ( From the sound of all those cars, you would have thought I lived near the Indianapolis Speedway instead of 5 miles from no where.) The dog seemed to be finished with what he needed to do, so I led him into the house and gave him food and water.
"Girls," I called looking at the clock. "We only have 2 minutes, and I have a class to teach." I quickly gathered my things. "Sarah, where are your tennis shoes? If you don't find your shoes, you're not going to be able to play in P.E. today." I was frantically searching the house for a pair of socks for her and hoping I might spy the lost shoes. I grabbed a pair of socks. "You're going to have to wear your clogs, and play in your socks today. Come on." By this time, it was past time to leave, but we had everything and were heading out the door. When I opened the car door, there were the wandering athletic shoes.
As I pulled out of the driveway, I eyeballed the clock. "Great," I said to nobody, though I knew the girls were listening, "We're five minutes late leaving. I hate to be late for my class. They have a test today, and I want to start on time." "Mom", Sarah said, "Did we make you late?" "No, sweetheart. We all made us late this morning." We rode in silence. The traffic slowed to stop. "Now what," I sighed. "Mom, can't we go around him?" "No, dear, there's too much traffic coming from the other direction." I grit my teeth. We turned down a side street to avoid waiting for the garbage truck that was stopping at each house along the way. For the next 7 miles, it was the same thing--cars going under the speed limit or stopping to make a left hand turn. We pulled into the parking lot. "Well, we're only two minutes late," my daughter announced. Oh well, so much for being a prompt teacher. When I walked into the classroom, only one student was there. The remaining students filed in for the next 5 minutes.
The day continued in the same fashion. The notorious book stole my attention again, and I was 5 minutes late teaching my morning piano students. When I arrived, they weren't ready. They forgot I was supposed to come. I was late finishing their lessons. That made me late for lunch which made me late for the Spanish class I was monitoring. Then I was late teaching my afternoon piano lesson. I got a reprieve from all this chaos when my girls were invited to go home with a friend. They would meet us back at the church for the basketball party at 6:30. I did my errands and headed for home.
When I arrived at the house, I looked at my attire and decided that everything I had on needed to be washed. I changed my clothes threw dirty ones in the washer and sat down at my computer to check my emails. Two glorious hours of blissful solitude. It was heaven. I opened my email and scanned down the list. There was the dreaded email from the symphony. I clicked and started reading. Just as I had suspected. The promised phone call had never come, and after nearly a week of putting us off, the nicest one in the bunch who had probably (under duress) been given the nasty deed, had emailed to inform us that my daughter wouldn't be allowed to play in the orchestra. She could audition again in May if she wanted. Oh and by the way, they were sorry for the confusion they had caused. A planning meeting was scheduled for next month to see if they could firm up and improve the audition process. It was too late for my daughter who had sworn off any musical group that required an audition.
There goes the bliss in my solitude. I sat there trying to figure out some way to respond to the email. I knew my daughter had played a bad audition, but I also knew that their lack of preparation had nearly guaranteed her failure. How could I let that go by without saying something? I started writing furiously trying to come up with some kind way to say, "You cowardly jerks! How could you put my daughter through that, leave us waiting a week and then say you're going to form a committee! Why didn't you form your committee before you auditioned my daughter?"
I glanced at the clock on my computer. "Oh no! my clothes are still in the wash and I have twenty minutes." I didn't even pause to strike the "save" key. I hurried into the house and put my jeans and a shirt in the dryer and set it for 20 minutes. That would be almost enough time to get my clothes dry. I rushed back to my computer and continued typing. By this time, my fury had begun to subside, and I was wondering whether I ought to send the email at all. "I'll save the draft and talk with my daughter's teacher tomorrow," I thought.
I finished up what I was writing, saved it and rushed back to the dryer to get my clothes. I had 3 minutes. The dog looked up at me as I walked past him. Poor thing, except for his short walk that morning, he had been left alone all day. His sad eyes said it all. I leaned over gave him a pat on my way by and then grabbed my jeans and shirt from the dryer. The shirt was dry, but the jeans were still damp around the seams. I'll just have to wear them a little wet.
In a flash, I was out of the house, and only one minute late. Perhaps I was catching up. Not on your life. All the way to the church, I was behind some yokel who thought the speed limit was 35 mph. I called my husband. "Where are you?" I said. "Well, I am still 20 minutes away. Will you save me a seat?" I put the cellphone down and tried my best not to be angry at all the drivers who were poking along with no care in the world. For goodness sake! I was late, and they were making me later!
I arrived at the church 3 minutes late. Chilled from my still damp jeans, I pulled my jacket around my shoulders and headed into the church. I stepped through the door and looked around. Nobody seemed to notice or care that I was late. Seated around the large tables were hungry little boys and girls laughing, talking and looking anxiously toward the door. A few parents were sitting, but most where standing around in little groups exchanging greetings, "Hi, I'm Katy's mom" and "What team did your son play on?" I sighed and looked around for my husband who was talking with a group of fathers. I walked over and gave him a hug, then found a seat. The door opened again and in walked several people carrying cardboard bread boxes and trays covered with aluminum foil. I looked around the room filled with families having so much fun and wondered why I had been in such a lather. What difference did it make? The caterer was late, too.
The alarm clock buzzed. I moaned and rolled over wondering how I was possibly going to face the day with so little sleep. Funny, when my children were babies, I survived on less sleep than that. True, I was always on the brink of insanity, but then I was a lot younger. Young people bounce back faster. I needed my sleep.
I dragged myself out of bed, made the coffee and finished my morning duties. The book got my attention again, and I read for ten minutes. "Oh no!" the dog. I tossed my book aside, grabbed the phone (I needed to make a phone call before I left), put the dog on the leash and walked outside while dialing the phone number. Cars whizzed by while I waited for the person on the other line to answer, "Whoosh" a car went by almost drowning out the sound of the voice on the other end. "I hope they can hear me," I thought. They did. ( From the sound of all those cars, you would have thought I lived near the Indianapolis Speedway instead of 5 miles from no where.) The dog seemed to be finished with what he needed to do, so I led him into the house and gave him food and water.
"Girls," I called looking at the clock. "We only have 2 minutes, and I have a class to teach." I quickly gathered my things. "Sarah, where are your tennis shoes? If you don't find your shoes, you're not going to be able to play in P.E. today." I was frantically searching the house for a pair of socks for her and hoping I might spy the lost shoes. I grabbed a pair of socks. "You're going to have to wear your clogs, and play in your socks today. Come on." By this time, it was past time to leave, but we had everything and were heading out the door. When I opened the car door, there were the wandering athletic shoes.
As I pulled out of the driveway, I eyeballed the clock. "Great," I said to nobody, though I knew the girls were listening, "We're five minutes late leaving. I hate to be late for my class. They have a test today, and I want to start on time." "Mom", Sarah said, "Did we make you late?" "No, sweetheart. We all made us late this morning." We rode in silence. The traffic slowed to stop. "Now what," I sighed. "Mom, can't we go around him?" "No, dear, there's too much traffic coming from the other direction." I grit my teeth. We turned down a side street to avoid waiting for the garbage truck that was stopping at each house along the way. For the next 7 miles, it was the same thing--cars going under the speed limit or stopping to make a left hand turn. We pulled into the parking lot. "Well, we're only two minutes late," my daughter announced. Oh well, so much for being a prompt teacher. When I walked into the classroom, only one student was there. The remaining students filed in for the next 5 minutes.
The day continued in the same fashion. The notorious book stole my attention again, and I was 5 minutes late teaching my morning piano students. When I arrived, they weren't ready. They forgot I was supposed to come. I was late finishing their lessons. That made me late for lunch which made me late for the Spanish class I was monitoring. Then I was late teaching my afternoon piano lesson. I got a reprieve from all this chaos when my girls were invited to go home with a friend. They would meet us back at the church for the basketball party at 6:30. I did my errands and headed for home.
When I arrived at the house, I looked at my attire and decided that everything I had on needed to be washed. I changed my clothes threw dirty ones in the washer and sat down at my computer to check my emails. Two glorious hours of blissful solitude. It was heaven. I opened my email and scanned down the list. There was the dreaded email from the symphony. I clicked and started reading. Just as I had suspected. The promised phone call had never come, and after nearly a week of putting us off, the nicest one in the bunch who had probably (under duress) been given the nasty deed, had emailed to inform us that my daughter wouldn't be allowed to play in the orchestra. She could audition again in May if she wanted. Oh and by the way, they were sorry for the confusion they had caused. A planning meeting was scheduled for next month to see if they could firm up and improve the audition process. It was too late for my daughter who had sworn off any musical group that required an audition.
There goes the bliss in my solitude. I sat there trying to figure out some way to respond to the email. I knew my daughter had played a bad audition, but I also knew that their lack of preparation had nearly guaranteed her failure. How could I let that go by without saying something? I started writing furiously trying to come up with some kind way to say, "You cowardly jerks! How could you put my daughter through that, leave us waiting a week and then say you're going to form a committee! Why didn't you form your committee before you auditioned my daughter?"
I glanced at the clock on my computer. "Oh no! my clothes are still in the wash and I have twenty minutes." I didn't even pause to strike the "save" key. I hurried into the house and put my jeans and a shirt in the dryer and set it for 20 minutes. That would be almost enough time to get my clothes dry. I rushed back to my computer and continued typing. By this time, my fury had begun to subside, and I was wondering whether I ought to send the email at all. "I'll save the draft and talk with my daughter's teacher tomorrow," I thought.
I finished up what I was writing, saved it and rushed back to the dryer to get my clothes. I had 3 minutes. The dog looked up at me as I walked past him. Poor thing, except for his short walk that morning, he had been left alone all day. His sad eyes said it all. I leaned over gave him a pat on my way by and then grabbed my jeans and shirt from the dryer. The shirt was dry, but the jeans were still damp around the seams. I'll just have to wear them a little wet.
In a flash, I was out of the house, and only one minute late. Perhaps I was catching up. Not on your life. All the way to the church, I was behind some yokel who thought the speed limit was 35 mph. I called my husband. "Where are you?" I said. "Well, I am still 20 minutes away. Will you save me a seat?" I put the cellphone down and tried my best not to be angry at all the drivers who were poking along with no care in the world. For goodness sake! I was late, and they were making me later!
I arrived at the church 3 minutes late. Chilled from my still damp jeans, I pulled my jacket around my shoulders and headed into the church. I stepped through the door and looked around. Nobody seemed to notice or care that I was late. Seated around the large tables were hungry little boys and girls laughing, talking and looking anxiously toward the door. A few parents were sitting, but most where standing around in little groups exchanging greetings, "Hi, I'm Katy's mom" and "What team did your son play on?" I sighed and looked around for my husband who was talking with a group of fathers. I walked over and gave him a hug, then found a seat. The door opened again and in walked several people carrying cardboard bread boxes and trays covered with aluminum foil. I looked around the room filled with families having so much fun and wondered why I had been in such a lather. What difference did it make? The caterer was late, too.
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