When Dad is Away, Mom Still Gets Out the Door

My husband is away--sadly, for the funeral of a very close friend--which leaves me with the bedtime routines that I often handle alone if he's working late AND with the morning mad scramble to get two kids and myself out the door. Usually, I deal with breakfast, snack-making, clothes choosing (err, not for Lila, she re-chooses whatever I've picked most days), and conductor-like activities, such as the repeated reminders about teeth-brushing, book-bag-packing, get-shoes-on-now, the choruses of "why does it take you 20 minutes to eat a bowl of cheerios" and, of course, counting down the time we have left before we get to the "if-we-don't-leave-right-this-minute-we'll-be-late-for-school" stage. I also get myself ready during all of this, typically waking up to shower and down a few sips of coffee before the first kid rouses.

My husband, for his part, walks and feeds the dog, handles the wake-up routine of our toddler and serves as assistant conductor, echoing my all-aboards (save the we must leave nows, since he's often the one not ready to go when the rest of us are standing, coats-zipped, gloves-on at the door). And he stands watch over the kids while I  get dressed.

I outsourced the dog care to our ever-patient, awesome dog walker (thank goodness because the sidewalks were snowy and slippery... just imagine me out there with one kid throwing snow all over and the other trying to leap from my arms). And I got up 30 minutes earlier than usual to shower, dry my hair and prep the snacks for my kindergartner. The kids were fairly cooperative with the morning routine. It was a full five minutes before the we-must-leave-now moment.I was feeling pretty darn proud of my temporarily single self. But wait. What was that smell? That awful stench wafting from...?

And then I remembered the other thing my husband does every morning. It's one I hate. The 7:52am (give or take a few minutes) poopy diaper. Oh, the dreaded diaper. My daughter is, if anything, reliable. Right as we're putting on coats and double-checking bags for work and school, she's smelling up the works (and the apartment). Every. Single. Day. My husband dutifully changes her--even if she's already in the stroller and bundled up.

Foiled again. Stinky distraction dealt with (and yes, I did consider putting her in the stroller anyway and pretending she'd done the deed on the way to daycare, but I decided to reserve that sin for a day we were really running late) we got out the door with just enough time to get to school. 

I forgot my lunch on the counter and my jewelry on the dresser. But hey, I am not supermom, remember?