Why Do I Wait

Why do I wait to do things?

Why did I take two months to finally empty that tote bag that went on the outing so long ago, that as it turned out, contained my favorite brush, the same brush I have been suffering without lo these eight long weeks?

Why did I take six months to throw that diaper bag/backpack in the wash? I finally washed it the other day, and now that it's bright and clean, I remember how much I love it. E and T can go to daycare in high fashion now.

Why did I put off taking care of that traffic ticket, only to go to court on the last possible day (today), without someone to watch the girls, so that I and 60 or so other hapless individuals, plus the judge, the court reporter, the bailiff, and the Spanish interpreter had to endure 2.5 hours of Tallulah? The child actually bit me -- HARD -- at one point. She, the wordless wonder, spoke a near complete sentence, motivated by the sheer unpleasantness of having to be in the courtroom for way too long: "Mama, GO!" Said while lunging from my arms towards the door at the back of the room. I've never made a room full of people happier to see me go. Or at least, I sure hope not. She screamed, she wailed, she lashed. She stomped, rolled, kicked, and generally did her impression of Carrie for much of the time we were there. It was one of those bone-crushingly weary moments of mommyhood.

Why do I wait until 5:15 to think about what we are having for dinner?

Why do I wait until morning to make sure everyone has clean socks and skivvies?

One word: Tallulah. I have decided to place the blame for my procrastination squarely and firmly on her tiny shoulders. Based on the strength of her temper tantrums today, I think she can take it.

A basic tenet of my happy marriage is this: Place blame, early, often, and on someone else. In this case, she'll do.

I have not always been such a procrastinator, so in casting about for some reasonable explanation for my behavior, I've arrived at this: the fifth child, the lovely Tallulah, is my tipping point, my appointed place for abandoning the organized person I once was and surrendering -- hopefully temporarily -- to living with this waiting disorder.

Hopefully temporarily, I emphasize. I have big dreams that I will one day return to the prepared and organized woman of my previous life and embrace her fully. For now, I can only lament: Why has it taken me so long to share this picture with the world?

Comments

Kelly said…
Placing blame is vital. I do it all the time with my 2-year old.
nicole said…
I think our fifth child is the one that tipped things right over to crazy in our house too. Thankfully, she appears to be getting into a bit of a routine. Of course, now that I said that today will be insane. :)
robinellablog said…
She looks TOTALLY guilty. Well placed blame. :-)
nicole said…
"We" wait and we procrasinate because our little brains are full of all the mindless crap we are trying not to forget. They say it takes a procrasinator to know one!

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