Crazy bus stop Mom, please get your act together!

Every morning, Monday through Friday, I have to get myself ready for work, one little boy ready for preschool, and one ready for kindergarten. (I somehow manage to do this every day, with surprisingly few meltdowns, actually. But, it's a hassle. No doubt about it.) I have to get everyone fed, dressed, packed for school, out the door, into the car, and then it's a mad dash to the bus stop. As soon as Spencer's kindergarten bus arrives, he hops on, and his little brother and I wave like crazy and blow kisses and make the "I love you" sign until the bus drives away. Then, it's another mad dash to the car to race all the way across town, so I can drop Foster off at  preschool. This is followed by a final mad dash all the way to the other end of town, which inevitably includes a breathless run up the stairs, into my office, just in time to start work. (Or, a few minutes late, depending on traffic.) By the way, this entire routine is then done in reverse just a few hours later. Sigh.

Anyway, you can see that this makes for a pretty tight schedule. Every minute counts. Every. Single. One. So, enter into the picture "Crazy Bus Stop Mom." Why do I call her this? Because, when the rest of the moms in the neighborhood are getting their kids ready and making sure that they're at the bus stop on time, I'm pretty sure this lady is either still sleeping or watching early morning T.V. or checking her Facebook page or something...In fact, I'm positive. She and her daughter are not actually at the bus stop regularly (thank goodness!). But, every two or three mornings, as the last kid is stepping onto the bus, or just after the doors have closed, here comes Crazy Mom, racing for the bus, waving her arms, yelling, "Wait, wait. I'm sorry. WAIT!" Sometimes, she's racing down the hill (in her pajamas), crazy hair flying, dragging her daughter behind her...Sometimes, she's careening up in her car (also in pajamas), whipping over to the curb and basically pushing her daughter out the door towards the bus. Poor kid. Once in a while, she comes sauntering down the hill with a cup of coffee in her hand (wearing sweatpants over her pajamas) and manages to arrive just as the bus is pulling in. On the few occasions we've talked, she actually seems like a really nice person. She's personable, she talks about being a stay-at-home-mom, she jokes about how she's always late. Her daughter seems to be well-adjusted and very sweet. But, please, lady, please! For the love of mothers everywhere -- Come on time or don't come at all!!! The rest of us have lives and schedules and places to be. We don't have the three extra minutes it takes for the bus driver to open the door, again, and wait for your daughter to run over to the bus, climb in, and find a seat, before the bus can resume the journey to school. Three extra minutes is a luxury we just don't have!

Please...please...please...be on time.

Cheers!