Getting ready for anything feels like a crazy thing.
At least with kids attached it does, anyway.
Quick run to the store? Alone, sure; add the munchkins and not so much.
Just want to go out for a fast paced walk? Err, guess again.
Need to head out to a doctor's appointment? Too bad it was set for 5 minutes ago, oh ye who was never late.
The funny part of all of this is that when the girls were babies, truly time consuming babies, I had my routine so ironed out that we were able to plan a trip to the store and be on our way in under 15 minutes.
(I'm taking a moment to remember those amazing feats of diligence. Sigh).
Now it seems there's always some small crisis separating me from the car. A lost shoe, another round of pee, a sudden affliction of thirst or hunger, a misplaced toy.
Out. All I want is to open the door, walk through it, and close it. Bye-bye. Off I go.
They're slowing me down, these two.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about it. More like, just curious. How is it that when they were tiny and stereotypically supposed to be slowing me down, we were out the door in a flash. And now when they should be more independently adept to this cause, they're bringing our truck to a screeching halt?
I'm pondering this even as I sit and wait for them to get themselves pulled together enough to walk out the door. Sure, I could impose more rules on the topic: We're out the door by the count of 20, or Whatever is in your hand when I call Blue is what you bring, or No Toys, etc, etc, etc.
But mostly I just don't care at the moment. Mentally, it's not a fight I want to deal with today, so I'll put it off till tomorrow.
Yes, I know where that tricky road leads. I've been down it before.
But sometimes, you just got to revisit places, right?