Late for Work

Yesterday, I came into work a half-hour late and said to my boss, “Sorry. I had to play an emergency game of Chutes and Ladders.” She responded sincerely, “Well, it’s good that you know your priorities.”

After working 12 hours the day before and barely seeing my kids before they went to bed, yes, a last minute detour to appease a pleading kid was fine by me. I didn’t even mind that, just when he or I was about to win, we kept sliding back. I did have fleeting thoughts of, “I’m never going to get to work at this rate” but I also knew that there was nowhere I would rather be at that moment than sitting on my child’s bedroom floor playing a game.

Today, late again. Not only does our little guy need daily hugs and consoling because school is too hard, his day is too long, and he misses daddy and monkey but I apparently need fashion advice.

In my black lace top: “Are you seeing any clients today?”

In my new white blouse: “Planning to take an art class in that 50’s smock Holly Go?”

Finally, in my thin, gray, pinstripe skirt: “She shoots; she scores.”

As much as it’s time consuming, I appreciate that I have a hubby who can deter me from looking like a total idiot as I walk out the door. Some guys barely look up; others think their wives look good in anything. While there are benefits to the latter mindset, I prefer the honesty.

I also appreciate that I have a husband who makes my kids laugh. A lot. If I were a stay-at-home mom, Son #2 would have to be dragged on that bus kicking and screaming because I was still comforting and cajoling him. Instead, his tears only last a few minutes and then he’s cracking up over something daddy is saying or doing in order to encourage him to lighten up and move on.