I nudge my husband as I stare in horror at the clock. “Honey, we slept through the alarm!”
School started more than half an hour ago, and I’m still in bed. What’s worse, this week is testing, so they’ve already missed at least one segment of their standardized tests.
My husband was supposed to be at work almost an hour ago and he’s still in bed. There are breakfasts and lunches to be made, children to clothe, snacks to provide for my one son’s class…all in negative forty-five minutes.
I jump up, scramble toward the kids rooms, “Get dressed NOW! We are super late!” and then scurry back to the kitchen to work on various meals.
I move triple-time trying to get everything done and get everyone out the door as quickly as possible. I am frantic, my heart racing, my hair flying in every direction, hollering at the children to be ready ten minutes ago.
Finally, we got everything ready, and the children made it to school and the husband made it to work.
And I took a deep breath, and realized that it’s not the end of the world. It’s just one late day. It’s just one missed section of a test. It’s just small stuff, that in the grand scheme of our lives is not going to make a difference. It’s not worth panicking over, it’s not worth sweating, it’s not worth ruining my day, and it’s not worth the stress.
I just need to try again tomorrow.