Time is a funny thing. I remember as a teenager….I had way too much time on my hands. I would sit around, avoiding chores and homework, and wish I had something to do. I was ‘bored.’ Even when I did do all my chores and homework, there were times when friends did not appear to reward me for my efforts with their attentions. When all else failed, I would retreat to my room and read a book. This wasn’t really a bad thing, I loved to read. At one point, I even devised my own ‘card catalog’ to keep track of the books I had read. I put each book title, author and brief review on an index card and put them, alphabetically of course, into a small file box. I had a lot of cards in there. When I was in school, I read about a book a day. The librarian knew me by name and just waved me by most days. Why check out a book when it was going to be returned in the morning? I loved books and kept at least two on me most days.
When I moved out on my own, time was a bit different. I still had ‘down time’, formerly known as ‘boredom’, but now it was caused by my lack of funds. I could go play with friends whenever I wanted to but it seemed to always take money now. I missed my care-‘free’ days of youth, but it seemed a small price to pay for complete freedom.
When I got married, I started to notice a slight decrease of that free-down-boredom time. My life was now being shared almost constantly with someone else. We spent the time we had off from work or school being together. We played games, read books together, went for walks, watched movies, and talked a lot. Time moved at an easy pace for a while.
When we started having kids, time became something completely different. Time was suddenly marked by sleeping and food. I didn’t get much sleep and seemed to be in the kitchen or nursing a baby all of the time. Nine years passed in a sort of hazy blur. As my kids get older, time seems to be moving at a break neck speed. I have no idea what boredom is, what I did yesterday, how I will possibly accomplish my list for tomorrow, or where today went. I have gone from a calm, melting ice cream life of teenager boredom to an ice in the blender smoothie speed of adult mommy hood. It doesn’t help that I work full time, volunteer, teach piano, go to school full time, write, cook, clean house, and bathe. I’ve tried removing the bathing part but people complained. I’ve cut back on sleep to accommodate the cooking and only do the bare minimum of house cleaning.
I wonder at times if I am trying to do too much. Am I trying to fill my life too full of ‘good things?’ What would I cut out if I could? You know I’d hire a maid in a heart beat, but I’d feel guilty for not teaching my kids to clean.
I was recently talking to one of my bosses at work. She asked me about my schedule at work and I told her what I was really doing, ‘off the record.’ She shook her head and told me I was a “rock star.” She asked if there was anything I couldn’t do. I get asked that a lot. I don’t know why, it isn’t like I do a lot of amazing things, I just do what I have to. I’ve come up with a response to help people feel better….if they are less crazy than I am. There is one thing that I really can’t do. I completely suck at this. I have tried for over twenty years to do it and I just can’t do it. If the end of the world would happen unless I threw a frisbee well,…..that would be the end. Many, many people have attempted to teach me the art of frisbee throwing and I just can’t do it. But I’m okay with that. Better that than, say….breathing. I mean, not to brag but I’m real good at breathing. I do it all day long. Just not when I run….cause I said so.
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