Chantry told me I should read an article on KSL...as I was reading it, I could not stop laughing because, well, I could have written myself almost word for word. HAHA!!! I hope I can slow down a little and enjoy the little things in life cause really how reverent is a prayer when the five minutes beforehand are spent yelling to get ready for bed?! I love my little kiddos so much and they are growing up all too fast.
The other day I hit the garage door with my side mirror ... for the fifth time. I know all you husbands out there are cringing. Mine sure did.
The thing is I am not a bad driver, not in the least. I have only one car wreck to speak of, and in 15 years of driving that isn't too shabby if I do say so myself.
I, of course, blame the whole thing on my kids. I mean, who can concentrate on pulling into the garage when there are majorly loud noises coming from the backseat? From singing, to screaming, to fighting — if it's loud and distracting, you can bet it is happening back there.
My husband's theory is different. He says I just need to slow down because I am pulling into the garage too fast. Oh, and did he mention that I have done this five times?
When I manage to get myself into these messes, I sit and wonder why. Why am I the one who leaves the refrigerator door open a whole weekend, and then have to throw away every single thing in there. Or how is it I manage to spill nail polish remover on our shiny, brand new desk? Oh, and have I emphasized that I have managed to hit the garage door five times?
As I was contemplating all of these events, as well as throwing myself a "poor pitiful me" party — complete with chocolate and diet coke — I realized my husband was right. Pretty shocking, I know.
Not only do I need to slow down the speed of my vehicle, I also need to slow down the speed of my life. I am so frantically running out the door, or answering just "one more email," or thinking about what's next on my to-do list, that I often make life harder on myself. I am so focused on the future that I am missing the now.
And you know what? I am missing some amazing moments that I will never get back.
Take, for example, the ever-dreaded bedtime — or am I the only one who dreads that? In all my anxiousness to hurry up and get the kids in bed, the majority of it is spent fighting. Family prayers become, "Hurry up and get on your knees NOW!" Scripture study is spent less listening to the words read with more time spent yelling at kids to be quiet. The rest of the night is spent denying "just one more glass of water," "just one more bedtime story" and "just one more …."
But does it really matter what the clock says when their heads finally hit the pillow — 8 or 8:30? Isn't it really the same? And one day, when they're teenagers, won't I be begging them to spend more time with me? Shouldn't I be cherishing this time, in all of it's frustrating glory?
One day, believe it or not, I'm gonna miss it. One day it won't be like this, and I will wonder where the time has gone and if I could have used it better.
So what am I going to do differently? Nothing too ground-breaking: I'm gonna breathe.
In those moments when the "hurry ups" and "what's nexts" creep into my mind and try to take over, I'm gonna breathe. I'm gonna slow down.
And this time, hopefully, not hit the garage door. Because a sixth time? Pretty sure that is unacceptable.