b. Rush

My life is a rush

I built this rushed life.

My seven year old son commented, while standing in the doorway of my car at this morning's school 'drop off', 'Don't press "go", Mum.'

'What?' I said.

'Don't press "go",' he repeated.

My puzzled face pushed him to explain what he meant. 'Remember, Mum?  Remember when you drove off with me in the doorway still? You drove off and I fell over. I nearly got runneded over.'

Ashamed, I recall the event.  He was still in the doorway collecting his school-bag, his raincoat, his reading folder ... and my mind was already driving to work. I looked ahead into the traffic and I pressed "go".  My foot pressed down on the accelerator and then I heard the shout of a seven year old boy ... followed by crying ... intruding on my rushed thoughts.  My foot pressed "stop!" I turned in my seat to see him caught in the doorway and half fallen over with his bag caught in his arm. Horrified I called to him to get back into the car.  Other mothers in the car park were glaring at me.  The woman in the car behind even started to get out of her car ... to help my son ... clearly because his own mother (me) was so incompetent and neglectful and rushed.

I 'over-compensated' in my apologies to my little boy:  He got the day off school; he got to go to the nearest 'home-made cake shop' and choose whatever he wanted - as much as he wanted - donuts for breakfast, lunch and tea that day!  He got snuggled up under a blanket on the couch and he watched television and played Lego all day.

I've never done that before. Not that that is any excuse.  And, Ollie, my seven year old son, wasn't hurt. Thank God.  Although, the memory of when I pressed "go" too early might be one of those topics for conversation years from now when he discusses with me how rushed I was during his childhood.  And, I'll probably then rush out to the kitchen and try to make it up to him all over again:  Donuts, coffee, home-made cake (If, by that time,I've slowed down enough to actually cook.  For now my rushed life is packet food and 'home-made cake shops')

During the rushed years of my life - currently - my mind is so often existing in a time ahead of the moment in which I'm living.  I'm ten steps ahead:  I'm paying for groceries, but I'm thinking about driving home and getting the dinner started.  I'm walking to the letter box to collect my mail, but I'm thinking about when I need to pick the kids up from school; how I'll get to work tomorrow; whether I'll call a friend next week for coffee. My son is getting out of my car to go to school, and I'm already pressing "go" and doing 6o kilometers an hour up the Anzac Highway driving to work. My mind is doing 80.

I'm rushed.  I've built such a rushed life. 

Even now, I'm writing for this ... while I watch the clock in my office at work.  My first patient for the day is arriving half an hour later than usual - so I'm filling the time writing this. 

The day won't be my own:  I have patients all day, then I pick my seven year old son up from school; then I drive my 16 year old son to his  guitar lesson; then I drive my 13 year old daughter and her friend to Scouts ... after I cook everyone dinner ... then I have a little  intermission (a bit of 'me time') while I clean up the house (well, only sort of  'me' time) ... then I drive to pick the girls up from Scouts; I drive the friend home; I sort out homework for the kids ... sleep per chance to dream for a short time (I don't get to really experience that because I'm asleep and probably dreaming of rushing with other activities) ... then I  get breakfast sorted for the family of six, school-lunches made, drive my seven year old to school, drop him off ... and try not to press "go" before the little dear is actually free from the doorway. 

Then I repeat everything again in another day. 

I'm rushed!

I have five minutes now to live in the moment.  Live in the now before my 10am patient. 

I must learn to meditate sometime.  Seriously. 

I must learn to press 'pause' in my life.  But, not today!  Today is too busy!

Better rush - my next patient is waiting!