Motherhood is like a daily three-legged race

My son's school held its annual Field Day yesterday. As I stood on the grassy field watching my son and his classmates alternately balancing a ball atop a cone, balancing wiffle balls on a tray and jumping to the finish line with both legs in a sack, I thought what great practice this is for handling the challenges of parenthood. I often think of how much my daily adventures with kids can feel like a three-legged race. Quirky obstacles constantly pop up on the way to getting anywhere. Five minutes until the bus arrives and one shoe – the only one not caked in mud -- suddenly disappears! Ok, wear flip-flops today. Noooo! I hate flip-flops. Ok, we're going barefoot today, I'll send you with a note. Ok. I'll wear flip flops. Fifteen minutes until preschool, then swim lessons. Do we have all the necessary equipment? Swim suit, check. Swim goggles, check. Towel, check. School folder, check. School backpack, check. After school snack, check. Juice box, check. Kid in the carseat, check. We're off ... backing out of the driveway. Ooops, no diaper bag. When we finally get where we're going I notice the other moms running their own relay race. Late for the swim lesson. Park the car. Grab one kid. Slip the baby in the Baby Bjorn sling. Hoist the diaper bag out of the back seat and the swim bag from the trunk. Then, scoot, quickly as possible across the parking lot. Moms are always weighed down with bags, bottles and pockets full of tissues and baby wipes. We start to shake off all those cute accessories we onces loved to collect – strappy shoes, handbags, dangling earrings, bracelets. Long hair gets cut off or goes up in a ponytail. Clothes have got to be wash and wear because they are going to see stains and spills on such a regular basis nothing is going to survive very long. At Field Day, the PTA gave every student a T-shirt to wear. Moms could use uniforms too, something with lots of pockets like those vests photojournalists wear on overseas assignments. Those new fabrics that wick moisture and dry quickly would be handy, too. Oh, and those shoes they make for hikers that you can wear in water and on land. At some point, we'd look in the mirror and say, what happened to me? I used to know how to dress. But by then, the kids might be old enough that we can sell that Baby Bjorn at a consignment shop and tell them: “Put on your own shoes. I'm going to slip into a pair of strappy sandals.”