Some days you just miss the bus. And while life may seem like it's a mad scramble against time, you can still smile at the end of it all.

Some Days You Miss the Bus

This morning was the morning.

This was the first morning this school year that we missed the bus. Man, we were having such a good run, too.

And it’s not even a Monday!

Some days you just miss the bus. And while life may seem like it's a mad scramble against time, you can still smile at the end of it all.

But I also had my shirt on inside out and didn’t have time to put on a bra, so it might as well be a Monday disguised as a Wednesday. Or is it the other way around?


My older kids got off to school just fine because they walked themselves to the bus stop. But my little people, who are seven, still get accompanied by Yours Truly. As it happens, Yours Truly has a sort of constant inner competition thing going on. My life is a virtual race against the clock. A race that usually ends up with me scrambling to get to where I’m going on time. Because I’m all about packing in as much as I can before I have to leave the house.

It’s a thing.

Thankfully, my kids are fairly self-sufficient so I don’t feel the need to get up at the crack of dawn to do what I need to do. But the moment I peel open one eyelid and look at the time, the pep talk begins. Usually it’s some variation of: “Ok, if I get up right now, I’ll be out of the bathroom and down in the basement by this time. That way I can squeeze in a quick run and my 15-minute workout and maybe even run through the shower before carting the kids off to the bus stop.

My Alter Ego: Morning Drill Sergeant Mama

While you would think having¬†kids that wake up at the first hint of morningness (I will make that a word) our mornings would be leisurely, such is not the case. No, I’ve got to bust out¬†Morning Drill Sergeant Mama every day to ensure¬†that:

  • the dishwasher is unloaded and¬†the kitchen tidied (because who wants to come home to that mess?);
  • the kids have all their homework, books and lunches packed;
  • teeth and hair are brushed and clothing is weather-appropriate (there are actually days when we are half way to the bus stop before I¬†realize my kids are horribly under-/over-dressed);
  • beds are made and toys cleaned up (this is a work-in-progress);
  • inevitable morning arguments don’t come to blows.

For the uninitiated, apparently all this stuff has to be done in the ten minutes before we leave the house because they were too busy the previous 90 minutes playing Pokémon or Lego or doing some such much more important thing.

Much of this commandeering happens from my perch on the treadmill as I call each child down and pant my way through the morning checklist. Today, however, I floundered and miscalculated. My damned timing was off and since my margins are relatively narrow, five minutes was enough to throw me off my game.

So, braless and hair dripping from the shower, I barrelled down the stairs calling out a string of new orders and¬†we quickly piled into¬†the van and raced (at perfectly appropriate speed limits) to catch up to the bus. Which I did. At the last bus stop before the school. And yes, I totally made the kids get off there. The bus driver and I did that¬†eye contact thing and I think — I¬†think¬†— she was laughing along with me.

Because there will be that day when you miss the bus. But when you get home, at least your kitchen will be clean.

Erica writes with humour and heart about family, #fit40s and living life in the carpool lane. Part-time banker by day and Netflix-addicted-cake-decorator by night, Erica's in-between time is spent dreaming up ways to ruin her kids' lives. Obviously.


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