I could get up at 6, or at 4:45, but I’m going to be five minutes late.
Despite best intentions, and lateness prevention I’m going to be five minutes late.
No matter the prep work I do before bed
No matter the plans mapped out in my head
No matter what I thought, what I wrote, what I said
I’m going to be five minutes late.
I can get myself ready in 10 minutes tops
But after that? My control of the morning stops.
One kid wakes up grumpy, hungry, or sad
The other won’t get her hair combed by her Dad.
Chances are each kid will want an extra-big hug
When they can’t find the right socks, or the dog they named Doug.
And often each child will need just one more kiss
To make up for the moments of their days I will miss.
But if all that they ask is for five minutes more
Before I button my coat and sprint out the door
Then I’ll give them those minutes, make up the work later
I’ll type all through lunch knowing I made morning greater.
Because right now they need me, so work needs to wait
This working mom will be five minutes late.
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