The Difference Is: Headless Chickens Slow Down Eventually...

I knew it would happen: I've slowly eroded the promise I made to myself to accept the things I cannot change, especially as it pertains to the clock on the wall. I had understood at one point that anxiety does not precipitate positive results. I understood precipitancy encourages stress in those around me: my children most of all. I'm rushing again; just another parent running around, repeating the same phrase to my kids over and over like a chant at a rally: let's go, let's go, let's go.

I remember where I was when I made that vow of acceptance, that promise to begin my routine earlier, to perform it more slowly, to encourage my children forward and not rush them to keep up:

Nova Scotia, Summer 2009:

 

Nova Scotia can be described as a shard of Ireland punted so firmly by a Celt foot it drifted across the Atlantic Ocean and found itself nestled next to Canada. Its coastlines are contradictions of surfs so fierce they pulverized ships against the rocks of Meat Cove, giving it its name, and eddies so serene they barely wake the clams waiting for the water to recede.

I was behind the wheel of my car, driving along a two lane highway. In front of me, a motorist advancing at a painfully slow pace. 'C'mon!' I thought. I edged right to spy on any traffic ahead; there was none. I edged left, assessing the next half-mile, hoping for a passing lane; there was none.'Doesn't anyone have anywhere to be??' I demanded. 
This continued for the first forty-eight hours of my vacation, this need to be at my next destination immediately. After all, I'm on vacation, and this is wasting time. 

It was in the first minutes of the forty-ninth hour that I understood. It was a signpost identifying the speed limit which taught me the lesson. 60 kilometers per hour, it read. 40mph. I looked at my speedometer; the motorist was proceeding at exactly 60km/h, as was the motorist before him, as was the motorist forty-nine hours ago when I first found my anxious way to our vacation rental.
As I slowed to finally allow some breathing room between my leader and me, I realized this pace was far more pleasurable. At this speed, at this distance from the person in front of me, I could appreciate the shoreline, I noticed the lights of the fishing boats dotting the horizon, and I noticed the way all the roads in this province were a little uneven, every few dozen feet there was a roll in the landscape like shoulders shrugging away anything too weighty or severe.

By the time I returned from that vacation I resolved certain things would never bother me again: aggressive drivers, being stuck in traffic, waiting on someone's tardiness. In other words: delays beyond my control. I also promised I would prepare more readily for my day ahead, and the kids along with me. If we were stumbling getting out the door, I would encourage them, but I would keep my frustration at bay; because, for the most part, people understand when you're a few minutes late with toddlers in tow.

Montreal 2012:

It's back, that agitation; that impatience. I noticed it the other day, again behind the wheel of the car, only this time on a flat, grey, crowded six-lane highway 900 miles from that vacation. It was snowing, and, as happens so often here, an inch of snow had brought traffic to a crawl. "Come ON!" I yelled to no one.
I also am regaining that agitation towards my children. I hear those commandments being barked more regularly: "brush your teeth!", "let's go!", "I said, get upstairs.."
The reality is: if I told them once or twice to follow me upstairs, and then proceeded that way myself, they would soon follow. They're like ducklings, they imprinted on me shortly after they were born, and they still haven't learned to fly. 

There are things I haven't learned either: 'all in good time', for instance. Certainly there are deadlines, moments which demand punctuality and obedience. But there are so many others which should be released to their own recognisance, and allowed to meander like that Nova Scotian shoreline.
When confronted with those things I cannot change, I must accept them. When next I'm slowed by a Sunday driver, I should give him his distance, and imagine myself a shard of Ireland, drifting across the Atlantic. 
I'll try again tomorrow. 

 

 

 

Comments

[Michelle]

Isn't it so easy to drift back into those day to day frustrations? You sound like my husband and I, although my husband is worse with the traffics and slow-downs than I am. I do find myself constantly rusing my children, though. Wouldn't it be nice if we could always keep that slow, vacation-like, go with the flow vibe? I'll have to work on it! &Nova Scotia looks beautiful!!!

[christine (lulobird)]

i try to remind myself "it's about the journey - not the destination." i know this is true because all the best movies are about people getting somewhere...once they get there the movie ends because that part really isn't so great ; )

[Real Army of Moms]

With my kids I have learned that if you give them a heads up, " It is now 7:00 am we need to leave in 15 minutes" they will get themselves together and we generally get out of the house by 7:20 the actual time we need to leave. It is crazy but it works.

[Courtney~Mommy LaDy Club]

Being late absolutely drives me insane. I feel it eating at my skin even, but I know I have to stay calm through it all. Next time, I will think of your Nova Scotia.

[Ang]

The thing that always gets me is when I recall my memories as a child--what are the ones that stand out as beautiful, memorable in a good way, and bring a smile to my face? Which are the ones that made us a loving, happy family? Then I try to bring those moments to our family--and you can't rush through things like that!