If I shower, pack my lunch and all my bags the night before, I only have to get up one hour before I have to leave. Between the time my fingers find the off button on my alarm to when they turn the ignition of my car, it’s a battle: me vs. willful toddler vs. unpredictable baby vs. time. Nurse, pump, pack, dress, console, urge, force. Rush, rush, rush. Everyone in the car, driving too fast, kids to daycare, then me to work. Work work work, lunch, work work work. I will the clock to move faster. “I want to see my kids! I want to pick them up!” So I race out of the office and scoop up the boys. Race them home. Rush, rush, rush. Dinner as soon as we walk in the door, and then straight into bath and then bedtime for the kids. Gotta get them to bed so I can get some things done. Gotta get ready for the next day! Rush, rush, rush.
This is my formula. Gotta get through it so I can get to the Next! Better! Thing! If we can just get to ______, everything will be better. Once Mike graduates and gets a new job, we’ll have more time and I’ll have more help and everything will be better. Once Will starts sleeping through the night, I will be able to think clearly and stay up later and everything will be better. Once I learn my new job, I won’t be so stressed out and everything will be better.
When am I going to learn to enjoy what’s here? Life can’t always be a rushing towards something better. At some point, I have to stop and just be where I am. Who cut my brake lines?