Every morning it’s a race to get out of the house and on our way to work on time. Since hubby and I carpool, things are that much more complicated because both of us need to ready at the same time. Throw in 2 girls who need to be readied to go to school, and a baby who could care less about our “morning schedule” (i.e. I’m hungry. NOW.) and each morning is the definition of chaos. One morning, as hubby and I were bickering about who-was-ready-before-who the day before, I said “I was on time. We always leave at 8:23am.” Which he, of course, disagreed with. Anyway, since then I have been silently (ok, not so silently) keeping track of the time of when we walk out the door and sure enough, it’s been 8:23am pretty consistently. Random, no? Fast forward to today at work when a co-worker of mine arrived into the office later than usual and with that flustered “I still have my parent hat on, don’t ask me any work-related questions” look (you know the one). I instinctively said to him “One of those mornings, huh?” And he said “Yeah. If we are not on the highway by 8:35am, our morning is shot.” And so I giggled to myself knowing that there was another family that had their “do-or-die” time for the morning rush.

And since I am writing this post about 1 hour and 45 minutes past my bedtime (Hello? Real Housewives was on tonight) it’s a safe bet that tomorrow morning I will be dying.

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