I learned a new word the other day: tidsoptimist. It’s a word used to describe people who are habitually late because they think they have more time than they actually do. The word is of Swedish origin, and so am I, so there you go.
When I was maybe 11 years old, I took hip-hop dance lessons from a very tall, very fabulous man with long black braids who always reminded his students that “early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable.” It’s a fine saying, but I’m afraid my kids don’t care if they make me late to literally everything.
To be clear, I’ve been showing up just in time (or late) to events for years because I’m a tidsoptimist through and through. But having two boys underfoot when I’ve got a mascara wand hovering dangerously close to my retina really slows me down to the point that I’m rarely on time, no matter how hard I try. Even if I manage to shower, get dressed, half dry my hair (a full dry is a luxury that’s out of the question 97% of the time), and put a little makeup on well in advance of having to leave my house, one kid or the other will foil my plans.
It’s fun to guess what the holdup will be. Diaper blowout? Refusal to put on shoes? Insisting on wearing a jacket even though it’s 80 degrees outside? So many possibilities.
For this reason, I cut moms a break. Late to lunch? I get it. Running behind for a meeting? I’ve been there. When I make plans with a mom, I just assume she’s going to arrive 10-15 minutes after she’s “supposed to”.
Which is fine because she’ll still probably beat me there.