“WhY aRe we AlWays wAITinG oN MoM?”

It’s true, dear family. I’m always the last one out to the car when we go somewhere.

Like . . . always.

I know you get annoyed and often wonder what the heck is taking so long, but it’s probably not what you think.

It’s not that I’m dragging my feet.

I’m not oblivious to the fact that you’re waiting for me.

I’m not trying to be insensitive or selfish.

And I’m definitely not trying to make us late.

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The reason I’m always the last out the door is because I’m . . .

Putting the milk back in the fridge so it doesn’t spoil.

Grabbing extra coats and changes of clothes for everyone in the family.

Making sure the dogs have water in their bowl.

Finding the sunscreen.

Using the bathroom (again), because as soon as my bladder realizes we’re leaving it decides I need to pee at least twice.

Throwing on jeans because I was too busy getting everyone else dressed that I didn’t dress myself.

Switching the laundry to the dryer so our sheets will be ready when it’s time for bed later.

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Filling up water bottles and grabbing snacks, because I’ve been around the block a time or two and I know someone will be hungry five minutes after we leave the house.

Looking for your book because it’s library day at school.

And if I think we can possibly spare a minute (or sometimes even when we can’t), I’ll grab a cup of coffee and throw on a dash of mascara—because mama wants to feel caffeinated and pretty, too.

You’re always waiting on me because that’s how a mama’s mind works.

We think of all the things no one else does—all the little details you’ll never notice, that keep our world spinning and our family functioning.

I don’t expect you to understand (again, that’s a mama’s job), but will you do me a little teensy favor? When I finally stumble out to the car holding allll the things, instead of pointing out that I’m last (again), will you please cut me some slack?

And maybe open the door for me and take something from my hands so I don’t spill coffee all down my front trying to do it myself (again).

Love you more than life, even when I’m running behind.

Signed, Mom

Originally published on the author’s Facebook page.