Off we go like a herd of worms

That was the saying a certain celebrity said his mom always used when his family was going on any outing, I read recently. I think it sums up perfectly the pace at which my family moves, too. I remember being stunned at how long it took to get out the door when Ben was a newborn. Change diaper, nurse, poop, change diaper, check diaper bag, get Ben in car seat ... Sometimes it took easily 45 minutes to make it into the car.

I'm no longer parenting any newborns, but things haven't improved much. Of course, now I have three younguns to try to herd out the door. And it doesn't help that kids are natural dawdlers. You would think that by now I would have getting Ben to school down to a science, but no. I never know what particular challenge I'll face on any given morning: having to ask Ben three or four times to start putting on his snow pants, boots and jacket; Gus taking off the socks I just put on and having to search for them; remembering at the last minute that I haven't yet signed Ben's reading sheet. At least one day each week is bound to find me hollering at the boys and panicking that we're going to be late.

The other day I decided I would let Paul and Gus play outside. It took 20 minutes to make it outside. 20 minutes. I spent an inordinate amount of time looking for one of Gus's boots. This was the second time in two weeks a boot had gone missing. This time I found it; the last I didn't and had to resort to putting Gus in shoes instead. That didn't work so well. The fact that it's winter certainly doesn't help matters, but no matter the time of year, it's always something. Think slathering three squirmy boys with sunscreen before we can play outside in the summer.

I don't hold out much hope that things will improve within the next, say, five to 10 years. I will just have to do my best to pad our departures with plenty of extra time, travelling with my little herd of worms.