My mother is currently 4,500 miles away on business, so I have some elbow room to discuss things.  Mainly things about her.  But also and more importantly, I can freely discuss how I'm still in the running for worst-mother-of-the-year without her judging me.

Let's start with my mother.  She's notorious for being late.

It was growing up with someone always late for anything, that I knew I wanted to be on time for everything.  That one brutal winter night in the 90's, that I sat outside of a locked high school, after a late night swim meet, waiting alone as the-last-child-to-be-picked-up after telling the telephone operator that my official name for the collect call was Miss. Momiamdone Comepickmeupnow (I had perfected the 90's collect call after so many years waiting around for my mom), that I vowed to myself to become a punctual person and a very punctual mother.  And I am.  I even use the word "punctual" to describe myself.

Note to readers:  if I am ever unpunctual for anything (school bus issues aside; those are my kids' issues) alert the press because there's a problem if I'm late.

I had a problem yesterday.  Apparently yesterday was Tuesday and not Monday like I had gone around believing all day long. Stupid Labor Day. How did I know that it was Tuesday and not Monday?  Because the principal of my children's elementary school called me.  "Mrs. Karwowski?"  "Yes?"  "School ended 25 minutes ago and your children and your neighbor's son are in my office waiting for you."  "But. It's Monday.  And I pick up on Tuesdays."  "Mrs. Karwowski, today is Tuesday."  "Is it really?  Oh my gosh, it is Tuesday. I'm on my way...."  I put down my mop, because in all honesty I was washing my floors on a Monday afternoon and not a Tuesday, and raced towards school. What kind of mother forgets to pick up her children? Suddenly my mother's tardiness doesn't seem so bad.

By the way.  Today is WEDNESDAY.

Disclosure:  No children were harmed in this post.  The elementary school secretary taught the kids how to make paper airplanes and the kids were generally angry that I ended their craft session early becuase they were having "so much fun."

Monday at 7:24 am:  "Would you like me to warm up this organic Ohio maple syrup for your first-day-of-school blueberry pancakes?"

Tuesday at 7:46 am:  "I hear the bus turning the corner! Hurry.  Eat the waffle."

Wednesday at 7:44 am:  "Let's go guys, you can finish your bagel at the bus stop."

Thursday at 7:47 am:  "Eat the banana! Eat the banana kiddos!  Just grab your shoes and put them on in the bus. Yes, you can run barefoot to the bus stop."

Friday at 7:52 am:  "Grab the yogurt-in-tube and I will drive you to the next bus stop."  A barefoot me in pajamas drives after school bus yelling through closed car windows, "STOP THE BUS!!!  Eat your yogurt kids. I SAID STOP THAT BUS!!!  Breakfast is the most important meal of the day kiddos, eat. your. yogurt.  STOP THAT BUS!!!!!!!"

Saturday at 7:03 am:  "What did you say?  What time is it?  Go and grab a granola bar from the pantry before breakfast."

Sunday at 6:58 am:  "It's not even seven, people.  The babysitter said you didn't go to bed until eleven.  Go back to bed - mommy doesn't start serving breakfast until seven."

Labor day Monday at 6:44 am:  "Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Grab anything you want out of the pantry.  Yes. I said anything."

Rinse and repeat for the entire school year ahead.  Why bother even setting an alarm clock Monday through Friday or imposing a tight schedule during the work week?  The more sleep they get during the week - the longer they sleep in.  The more they stay up on the weekends - the earlier they get up.  It makes no sense what-so-ever.  Pretty sure that my little goof balls know exactly what they are doing.  Because all the proof in the world is in those stubborn gray hairs that stick up like antennas every morning, on top of my tired head.

Walk through any elementary school in September and chances are you will stumble across a wall of self portraits carefully drawn by little fingers during the first weeks of school.

Look more closely at the fine details of each drawing and it's easy to spot the child of the PTA classroom parent.  The parent that makes sure the Valentine's Day social has enough cookies and the Field Day has enough water balloons.

Self portrait by Lola Karwowski, age 6.

It's the one that screams, "DON'T MESS WITH ME.  MY MOM PLANS ALL THE PTA PAR-TAYS!!!"