To the mama who was late today: I see you. The mama who planned to eat a hot breakfast, but got side-tracked and surrendered to another chalky bar bound together by fiber and protein. The mama who packed the lunches they won’t eat, made the coffee she won’t finish, carefully selected the outfits destine for a garden variety of stains. The mama who planned to listen to a podcast during the drive, but couldn’t hear it over unwavering demands for the Moana soundtrack, and so she caved.
To the daddy who spent extra time on breakfast this morning, but all of the sudden, they don’t like almond butter: I see you too. The daddy who buckled them in without their water bottles on the only day that they actually want water because they never want water in the morning. The daddy in flip flops and socks. The daddy who, in all the mess, still remembered to kiss the mama goodbye and tell her she is loved.
To the parents who may have had “that kind of morning,” know this: even when it doesn’t feel like it matters, this mess and chaos is all so worth it. These little people we cater to are truly important. These future grownups will run the world someday. They will be making big choices.
They see your efforts, your smiles through the chaos, and they will forever forgive you for snapping. Kids are wonderful like that. You never have to be perfect, you just have to show up. I bet you’re doing better than you realize.
Mornings are a sprint and a marathon for us keepers of the littlest humans. It is downright impossible to get everything right every day. And it seems like everyone else you see on the way to daycare where ever you are going will notice the hot mess you’re stewing in; remind yourself that they are too distracted by their own morning madness to bother with yours. Everyone is a mess.
The season of serving our little ones is hard. They are helpless, yet opinionated, and they are always learning. They don’t yet know what society expects; they can barely grasp their tiny piece of the world. In this innocence, allow yourself to fully receive the grace that kids give so abundantly; to your children, you are perfect. You cannot fail.
Your kids don’t even know what “late” is. It’s a preschool status symbol to have socks that don’t match. It’s hilarious for everyone involved if you sing along to Moana off-key. In short: they love you fully and totally. You are their world; to them, you can do anything.
So be fashionably late. After all, kids live to make an entrance.