Daylight Savings Turmoil that has nothing to do with the time change (aka Why do I have trouble making it to places on time?!)

So, I'm sure this NEVER happens to anyone else, but since we set our clocks forward last night, I was more aware of the need to be on my toes to get to church this morning.  We've been on a slow downward spiral towards punctuality failure for quite a few weeks now, and it's really starting to get under my skin.  Ha!  My struggle with punctuality has been under my skin for YEARS, but now it's obviously become a sore and inflamed infection.  And I'm sure the oozing and festering is not far behind, so I would really like to get this under control and have lateness only be an occasional accident rather than the constant story of my life.

Back to what I was saying . . . we were actually on top of it this morning.  I got up on time.  Rather than attempt to do any curling or straightening, I wrestled my mass of strong-willed hair into a bun by subduing it with an onslaught of claw clips.  My hair and I live an uneasy co-existence.  It's like an undisciplined child.  I get lots of compliments on it's thickness and waves, and we are often on good terms.   Sometimes I am absolutely delighted with its behavior, but it's too expressive.  Too big and showy for my comfort.  I like things simple and understated, and don't do well with attention.  I frankly never know when my outspoken hair is going to downright embarrass me.  Since it has often been a time-sponge, I shut it down immediately and severely this morning.

Shower?  Done the night before.  Children?  Awakened and kept on task.  Husband?  Up before I was and making breakfast for everyone.  I remembered to pack the diaper bag with changes of clothes in advance.  Rheanna got the baby dressed and ribboned.  Meriel suddenly ditched one church outfit, and decided on another, but we still had time for me to catch that she had thrown the rejects on the floor and tell her to hang them up.  I was able to leisurely fix her hair and she didn't say "Ow!" once.  They all got shoes on without being reminded.    Boys remembered to comb their hair.  Oh yes.  It's all coming together.

Our goal has always been to walk out to the van at 8:45 AM.  And at 8:45 AM I yelled at everyone that it was time to go.  We started the move for the van.  Then I noticed a few things on the floor and went to go put them away before walking out the door.  We still had time, I thought.  But that somehow took longer than it was supposed to, I guess.  I don't know, it's all a blur now.  The next thing I knew it was now ten til when I walked towards the garage door in earnest, and Tim was suddenly realizing that he had completely missed a meeting this morning that he was supposed to speak at!  Several children in the van suddenly wanted to go back for coloring books or something of that nature.  We didn't let them, so they were upset and our unraveling calm marched steadily onward to it's doom.  Then Rheanna shut her skirt inside the van door and couldn't get it back open.  After I twisted my arm around to finally get the door open and free her skirt, she checked it for tears only to discover a large, unrelated stain on it that we had not seen previously, and had to run back inside to quickly change it.  Tim got a text telling him that the meeting had adjourned at  8:15, probably a clear message that people had noticed that he was not at the meeting.  Rheanna came back, now upset that her clothing plan for the week had been thrown off (teenagers, sheesh), I was suddenly very chilly but was not going back for my coat, we took off before anything else could happen and managed to get to church with just a few minutes to spare.  So, no, we were not late this time, but with absolutely everything going our way, we still barely made it to church, tense and out of breath like life had made us its plaything.

This scene plays itself out the same way almost every morning, no matter how early I get up (I get up at 5:30 most days), so I'm starting to wonder if I have some sort of deep psychotic aversion to being on time based on some repressed memory.  Perhaps a long time ago I was on time and my goldfish died because I walked out the door without feeding it.  Or perhaps I walked into a room on time only to have a propped up bucket of water cascade onto my head.  Or perhaps I have this sense that if I were on time, I would then be too perfect for this world, and would be taken from it to reside in paradise, and so, for the sake of those who depend on me here, I created this ONE flaw for myself.

What is more likely is that this morning was just divine punishment on Tim for missing his meeting, and the rest of us shared his fate for selfishly requiring so much of his focus that he forgot his churchy duties.  Yeah, that sounds more realistic.