We’re busy. In fact, I don’t know anyone who would say they aren’t busy.
And I always feel in a hurry. A constant state of “mental hustle” as I once heard it described.
We hurry to get dressed,
Hurry to put on pajamas.
Hurry to get in our car seats,
And hurry to get out.
Hurry to make dinner,
And hurry to eat it up.
I didn’t realize how many times I say “quickly” or “hurry up” throughout the day until recently. It kinda smacked me in the face actually.
I don’t rush milestones. I’m not one who frequently says “I can’t wait until…”
But I am guilty of rushing through the day; of hurrying from one activity to the next.
What for?
Would the world really end if it took us 45 more seconds to get in the car?
How many of the things on my to-do list really need to be there at all?
How many things am I over-doing? My kids would be just as happy with Oreos as if I’d worked all day baking fancy cookies.
So I tried something.
I stopped using the word “hurry.”
Every time I feel it want to slip passed my lips, I take a breath, look into their sweet eyes, and rephrase what I’m really trying to say.
And you know what? It helped.
Yes, we’re still busy. That’s our stage of life.
But I feel less frantic; and my kids feel less rushed.
I am never late to anything, but if I am, maybe it was for the best.
Maybe I’m slowly understanding the magic of these little in-the-middle moments that make up so much of my motherhood.
