Tick Tock

I swear, I used to be on time. I used to be annoyed by people who always ran late, running in to meetings flustered, gripping their Starbucks cup like a lifeline. I remember thinking, "They don't respect my time." That would never be me.

And yet somehow, I have become one of them, against my every instinct.

Every Sunday night, I sit down in front of my comically huge calendar and contemplate the week ahead. This practice is meant to find those hidden traps--days where the hubs, or I, will both go insane as they are currently scheduled, the times in which we are guaranteed to be late.

These are the days where tears are certain at bedtime (mostly mine), where there is a hidden land mine waiting to explode all over my perfectly color-coordinated schedule. And yet I seem to truly have the knack for setting those off, despite all the planning in the world.

Last week, instead of getting up before the boys to shower, I snoozed once (once!) and they woke up early. We raced around the house to get the day started while L whined for "one more show!" Every time I glanced at the clock, twenty minutes had passed. By the time I dropped L at preschool and got on the highway, I was (only!) five minutes late. Then I watched as traffic in front of me ground to a halt. Ten minutes late. New traffic lights by the hospital all turned red as I approached. No parking spots in the doctor’s parking garage. New construction in the hallway to the Emergency Department. Fifteen minutes late.

Did I mention that I'm also the queen of over planning? If I have a free morning then I can definitely make homemade pancakes, run to the grocery store, stop at the specialty place on the way, drop off a package to return, run down to see a friend, exercise and shower, and still make it to late brunch with friends.  Except I can't. Ever. And all of a sudden, I'm mad that I've failed--even though I clearly was never going to succeed.

On top of that, my margin of error is gone. I don’t have an extra five minutes to deal with a chatty neighbor most mornings (just reading that makes me hate myself--jerk!). A spontaneous stop at Starbucks? Ha! That could throw off the entire day unless it is diligently planned. Insert a slow cashier at Target or an unexpected wait for lunch and the entire schedule is gone. I find myself impatiently tapping my foot while my heart races and my thoughts are just me counting, "You’re now five...eight...ten minutes late." Anxiety builds, I feel myself breathing faster, and I'm going through the possibilities of how, ten years from now, I hear how I would’ve gotten that promotion, would’ve been considered, “But you were always late." I was never late pre-babies. Still wouldn’t trade them for the world, but my punctual nature is in full revolt now.

And remember the days of nursing/pumping? Oh my. I remember willing A to “nurse faster” as I watched the clock tick towards a shift start time. I lived life in three hour blocks of time, and all I could think about was when he last ate and where that put me. I was filled with hope that I could nurse when I got home, as my boobs felt like exploding during my commute, and as I walked in the door the sitter would say, "Oh, I just gave him a bottle." I would burst into tears in the middle of the kitchen as a stunned 21-year-old stared on in horror. I don't miss those days at all.

What is it about parenthood that makes time so elusive? Whether it’s grabbing ten minutes to unload the dishwasher (again), five minutes to throw in a load of laundry (again), or twenty minutes to exercise (not necessarily again), finding those tiny chunks of time seems impossible. And yet, those moments when I’m not running running running, when my schedule isn’t held together by a hope and a prayer (and seven different multicolored pens detailing when everyone needs to be where down to the five minute interval), those are the times my brain goes into hyper speed and I try to do twelve things all at the same time. 

Is this the definition of mother? Multi-tasker extraordinaire? If so, I reject that. I want to learn to live in the moment, enjoy what I'm doing, stop and smell the roses...and yet my brain just won't cooperate. 

My next post will be on mindfulness. How do we slow ourselves down? How can we focus on this moment and not the to-do list? 

-Julia