This post may be more understandable to parents with small children but I are one and someone said you should write what you know. I don’t know why it is but getting the four members of my family dressed, ready (with shoes on) and out the door in time has consistently become one of the greatest challenges we have ever faced. It doesn’t seem to matter how early we start putting the wheels in motion to get out the door, inevitably, we will be 10 minutes away from departure and I am stepping into the shower, we are tearing the house apart looking for a shoe, the baby is crying, and we are packing a diaper bag. (Wife just read “we” and is rolling eyes noting that the first part of that list was me in the shower, missing all of the whirlwind.) Not only do those last ten minutes cause escalating blood pressures and strain to the bonds of the parental team, but it also takes a once clean house and destroys it. I can say on several occasions once we are finally all in the car we back out of the garage (and then pull back in so one of us can sprint up the stairs and grab the bottles out of the fridge that we forgot) that sigh of relief is instantly coupled with the dread of returning to an aftermath that some would declare a state of emergency. It is those moments when you have to get 5 miles down the road before anyone dare say a word that make the times that you hit the sweet spot even better.
Every now and then the planets align (translation, dad thinks ahead and realizes 30 minutes isn’t an eternity) and we make it to the car at a leisurely pace with time to spare and realize that it is in fact possible. Everyone is in a happy mood and there is no disaster relief project waiting for us when we return. Shoes miraculously were both in the same place, sock seams cooperated, diaper bags were assembled early and dad managed to make a sound wardrobe selection. Those times are so sweet I should really try to do my part to make them happen more often. Getting out of the door on time is one of those great moments in parenting (glad my 20-year-old self isn’t reading this and seeing how lame he turned out to be.) Cherish those moments parents and bask in the sweetness when it occurs because your kid shouldn’t be afraid to ask if you want to play “I spy” before you have backed out of the driveway.
I notice that there is a developing pattern of self-deprecation happening here but I am an easy target. I am one of those guys that uses an electric razor in the car. I know, I know but seriously, it is a great time saver. That is, however, until the time when mid shave the battery breathes its last breath and grinds to a halt leaving you with a half beard. I am not talking about a beard that is only half way towards reaching glorious full beard status, I am talking about left side of face like a baby’s bottom, right side like a lumberjack. That is a look that is kind of hard to pull off. There isn’t really any way to hide your lack of planning when you are standing in line at the gas station rocking your half beard with a disposable razor and tiny can of shaving cream that is going to cost you 8 bucks in hand. So you shell out your hard-earned cash for a disposable razor and wonder if you just bought the last one on earth that doesn’t have 17 blades built-in. You say a little prayer of thanks that since you are about to rough it and shave with only one blade like you are a pioneer at least it will only be on half of your face. You get to your place of employment and b-line to the bathroom hoping your boss doesn’t walk in while you are trying to stop the bleeding. Technology is great but it is funny how dependent we can become on it. So charge your battery or wake up 5 minutes earlier and cut out the risk of rocking the half beard because that knowing look from the guy at the gas station is totally weak.