I said “Now!” young lady, and I meant it!

We are still awaiting the arrival of the newest granddaughter. The doctors pronounced her ETA for April 17th. Now, on April 25th, she is still finishing up all of those last-minute things which must get done before leaving for her long-anticipated trip into the world.

Our family is always late.

I can remember my father, sitting in the car, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to be patient as I took a last-minute shower before gracing the backseat of the car for an outing. What!? My hair tended toward the greasy side-it had to be as clean as possible before being shown in public! The only way to accomplish that was to wash it as I was going out the door. My father just couldn’t understand that reasoning. I thought it was totally logical. He suffered for my beauty.

My oldest son has earned a reputation for being late. He doesn’t try to be late. In fact, I would guess that he doesn’t even realize that he is late. He just has a routine. He does not vary in that routine. The routine takes a certain amount of time. That time cannot be rushed. We used to joke that he has just one speed, and that hurry is not a word in his vocabulary. He just turned 31 this past weekend (GASP!) and nothing is different. We waited for his arrival at his own birthday dinner.

My husband also tends to run late. He would dispute this were he to know that I have made this statement. He would tell you that it is I who makes him late. But no…….don’t believe that! When I am going somewhere on my own, I am almost always on time. It is only when we are going somewhere as a couple that we are late. He is often doing something at the last minute. If we are leaving on a trip, the car must be washed. He will not have shared his plan, and that will not have been worked into my schedule to leave on time. It is a last-minute addition to our agenda, thus resulting in a late takeoff to our destination. He just does not understand why I would not have known that this very important task needed to be accomplished. Thirty-one years later, I guess I should know. Or at least should have asked about any amendments to the agenda.

But back to the baby. Her mother and father are getting impatient. My son is tapping his fingers on the steering wheel of his life. Her mother is ready to do jumping jacks in order to encourage this little girl’s arrival in the family. If you have not left your mother’s body by next weekend, little girl, the doctor will make you leave! He means it.  Don’t make him do that.

She is definitely taking her time. She will be ready when she is ready.

They might as well get used to it.

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