The real reason I’m late.

Lance would tell you the reason I’m late everywhere is because I’m not a morning person and I hate getting out of bed (but seriously, if you had to be up every morning at 6:10 AM after going to bed every night at 11:20 PM and getting up once a night with a crying baby, you’d have problems getting out of bed too). Have you tried to get out the door in the morning and have two children (and one husband) who are properly dressed, bedecked with the correct shoes for today’s activities as well as get yourself out the door properly addressed for the day too? It’s a logistical nightmare. He might also tell you that I’m always just trying to squeeze.just.one.more thing.in. Which is also true but not the real reason I’m late to almost everything.

The real reason I’m late is because I’m too busy savoring the last moments of my morning with my sweet baby. I’m soaking in her precious fuzzy head that feels like spun cotton. I’m breathing in her ever-fleeting sweetness. I’m feeling her warm cheek against my cool one. I’m delighting in my last moments with her before we both rush into the wide wide world. My head is telling me to put her down, place her in her car seat because I’ve still got twenty more minutes of stuff to do and about ten actual minutes to do it all. But my heart? My heart says, “breathe it in, soak it up. These days are brief.”

So yes, I might be late yet again because I couldn’t find the shoes I wanted to wear or somehow my phone ended up in the fridge (this happens more often I should really admit) but the real reason? I was holding on tightly to my daughter’s babyhood.