I Blame My Parents

Last updated on: August 22, 2014 at 3:57 pm by Rebecca Frech

I Blame My Parents 2014-08-22T15:57:21-05:00 Rebecca Frech

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My family and I often joke that I live my life like a duck, calm on the surface but paddling like heck underneath. There is in reality only one thing that ruffles my calm feathers, and that is being late. It turns me from a pretty happy mom into a crazed lunatic with one glance at the clock.

Always in my head is the refrain

To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, to be late is to be grounded

which I heard from my father regularly. He was a Navy man, and the military had beaten punctuality into his head and he was determined to beat it into ours. My mother was a stickler for manners and propriety, and while she would have preferred fashionable lateness, she taught us that rudeness was really never fashionable.

Not that is was completely pointless, he was right about a few things. People who are late express a contempt for the time and schedules of those around them. It sends a message that my time is more valuable than yours. It amazes me how many people don’t understand this simple concept and act as though the world will patiently wait for them to catch up. I can’t even begin to tell you how many people I have seen lose jobs, promotions, raises, and friends over the years because they can’t grasp the idea that they should always try to arrive five minutes early.

Early in our marriage, we stopped hanging out with a lovely couple because they were always 45 minutes late for everything. We would show up at a restaurant with our baby, ready to eat, and they would glide in 45 minutes later apologizing, but time got away from them. The baby would be fussy, we would be starving, and I would be offended. It wasn’t worth it. We still see them occasionally, my husband works with him, but we are not the great friends we could have been had they only shown up when they said they would. He hasn’t been promoted as quickly as others in the office either; he shows up late to work and back from lunch, but is the first one out the door at the end of the day.

I, on the other hand, have been known to have panic attacks over being off schedule. Unorganized in every other area of my life, I have this one small spot of neuroses. It works in my favor most of the time, but I am working on my patience with the smaller and slower members of my household. I have my parents to thank for my lunacy. I hope to teach my own children punctuality without being crazed by it. I pray that my dear husband will show them how to live with and love a lunatic while still getting out the door on time!

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