I have a theory about people. They are either the late kind. Or the early kind.

I pride myself on being the latter. I have the kids at school before the bell, sometimes, so much so, they wonder what the hell they are going to do with themselves for 40 minutes. I get to work before I’m meant to start, mostly so I can dick around and make myself a toasted sandwich and gossip. I get to friends houses for coffees and cake on time, if not a little early, because I can never gauge how long it’s going to take me get there. In general, I’m just an early bird. So is my husband. I do however draw the line at rocking up to a party before the allotted start time, that's, just, uncool.

There are some people though, who are just destined to be late. Never on time. Know any? I do. A few actually. Granted, it’s not the worst personality trait that someone can have, but it is kind of annoying when you’re waiting like an ejit, when someone is half an hour late. My best friend is always late. She knows who she is. Now I just tell her a time, half an hour before I really want her anywhere and that generally gets her there only slightly later than needs be. She’s the first one to admit it, having her clocks slightly fast so she shits herself and hauls serious arse to school each morning so the kids don’t get yet ANOTHER late pass. To her credit though, I think she is getting better with age.

And today, I could have taken her title of the Late Queen. I knew today, just this one day; we had to be at school by 8am. I had an education plan I needed to discuss with Sams teacher. Basically, we discuss what our aspirations for Sam will be in 2010. Well, an unbroken arm would be kind of high on that list – oh wait, too late. What about for him to take a sudden, unbridled interest and passion in reading and writing? Anyhoo, I digress. At 7am, I was a long way off even getting a foot in the classroom door.

This comes down to a series of events.

6:00am I wake up. I hear the two boys in their room discussing the time Sam threw up on his feet. I interrupt this conversation to get them up, make them a Milo, weetbix and turn on Channel 23. Top parenting at its best.

6:15am Make sure the clothes are all ready for access for all 4 of us. 2 school uniforms, one set of clothes for kindy and one presentable work outfit.

6:30am I hear Sam, doing a poo on the toilet, asking his 3yo brother Jack, why a chicken crosses a road. Jack - “He needed to do a poo?”. Sam “No, because he was a jerk”. Jack - “Oh Yeah? Sam, I have a peanut”.

6:45am Wake 10year old Maddie. She reluctantly rolls out of bed. I instruct her to get dressed and get her swimming bag ready. That bit will be very important to the outcome of this story.

6:50am I have a shower. Not one minute in, both boys come running from what sounds like 5 km’s away. “Mum, mum, mum, Maddie has smashed a glass, in the NEW room!!” The aptly named new room is, well, our new room, complete with porcelain tiles.

So there I am. In the nude, powerless to stop my kids cutting themselves to shreds without of course, potentially, slipping on my arse, on my way to cutting my own feet. I yelled at them to get into their rooms. Apparently Maddie was out there attempting the cleanup mission on her own. No doubt, shitting herself about the fact I had told her not 10 minutes before, to use a plastic cup. I must be speaking Chinese. It is the only reasonable way I can understand why, she doesn’t do as she is told.

So, where are we at? That’s right, about 6:55pm. I hastily dress, clean up the collateral damage and go about dressing the boys. And of course, this is where Jack, the 3yo and I, come to blows. See he, channelling an 80 yr old geriatric man, decides he will wear sandals and socks. And that combination ONLY. I try and reason with him that, mate; only old guys wear sandals and socks. “I am Batman” is his only response. Whatever. Fine, look like you belong in Cocoon, see if I care.

7:30am: Right, on track to be at school, with 3yo dropped off to kindy, by 8am. Oh, until I find the water on the tiles that is. Seems Jack has a new game. It’s called, “Let’s pull the arms off every single Lego man he can find, put them in his water bottle and then empty the contents on the porcelain floor”. It’s a fricken awesome game. Exactly what you need to find as a hidden surprise, when attempting to get out of the house in a hurry.

I start the car, waiting for the 10year old to finish fluffing her hair or whatever the hell she does inexplicably when we wait on her. She comes out looking distressed. “Mum! Where are my goggles?” Are you freaking kidding me? I asked her to get that ready at, let me check, 6:45 this morning. So we wait and wait. And I stomp out of the car, yell A LOT and finally we are good to go.

Kids secured in the car. We back out of the driveway. And it starts. “I’m yours” comes on by Jason Mraz. Jack: “This is my song” Sam: “No one owns a song Jack” Jack: “Yes, I do, this is MY song” And it goes on. This is nothing new; it is of course, just too much for me to take this particular morning. “No one owns a song” I roar and I flick the radio off. The car is silent for oh, 1 minute. Then

“I’m Batman” Jack.

“Batman isn’t real Jack, you dunkoff” Sam

“Yes I am, I is real Sam!” Jack says this line with accompanying blows to Sams arm.

“Owww, Jack! He is a cartoon character! You are just being a total jerk” Sam

You get the gist. All this, to the sweet serenade of Maddie singing, hideously off-key, Today was a Fairytale by Taylor freaking Swift.

We get there; thankfully, the kindy is across the road from the school, at 5 minutes to 8. That’s when I lose the keys.

So there I am, ransacking the back of my car, with various mothers offering very kindly to help me look. Me, refusing the help, based on the fact my car has last weeks French fries wedged in the back of the drivers chair and a unidentified smell coming from inside the carriage. I give up and run across to the school, 10 minutes late for my very important, 8am appointment. The keys are found, with one 10 year old late for school and one mother 35 minutes late for work, later, inside Sams school bag.

Today I was late. Tomorrow I intend not to be. You never can tell but.