The Slow Down

New Years 2005

At the end of most days, after the kids go to bed, when I'm sitting down with Chris, I realize that I have just spent the last 14 hours in a constant state of hurry. Most days go something like this:

Wake up at 6:00 in my bed to find that not only Bela and Mae have snuck in there with us, but the cats too.  Hit the snooze button, in slow motion, approximately 6 times. 35 minutes later, move slowly out of bed, one leg at a time. Hobble around the room to find slippers, sweatshirt. Look at the lumps in the bed...and it's as though a bell rings and the race begins.

Make breakfast. Get everyone dressed. Pack lunches. Brush teeth. Brush hair. Pack bags. Drive girls to school. Drive to work. Tutor. Teach. Hold office hours. Teach. Pick kids up. Drive kids home. Make dinner. Clean up dinner. Bathe girls. Read books. Sing songs. Say goodnight. Collapse on couch. Knit. Climb, slowly, one leg at a time, back into bed. 

Once in awhile, when the stars are aligned and the forces of the universe are working on our behalf (or, alternately, we simply call up my mother-in-law, Paula), we find ourselves alone, in our home, for a few days in a row. Last weekend was one of those times.

On Friday, after a week of constant running, I picked the girls up at school, headed the car south on I-57, and didn't look back for another 2.5 hours. I walked in the back door of Paula's house at approximately 6:00 pm. By 6:10, I was walking back out, headed to Chicago, sans kids. When I walked in my own front door Chris was waiting for me with a bottle of wine, bacon on the stove, and a couple containers of ice cream. We did a little happy dance and just like that.....time slowed down.

We enjoyed a weekend of cereal for lunch, bacon for dinner, and breakfast out two days in a row. We slept in, stayed up late, rented movies. And that list? That mental list we file away that's filled with all the things we are certain we would accomplish if there were no kids around? Not one thing done.

We are completely incapable of managing our time. Over the course of the last 6 years we have become so completely accustomed to making it through our day one request at a time. We don't make plans. The only things that tend to get done are the ones our kids ask us to do. Having the kids gone for a weekend is like living through an episode of The Twilight Zone in which every minute lasts an hour.

Chris drove down Sunday afternoon to get the girls and I stayed behind to begin a 7 hour grading spree (it's midterm time at UIC). He dropped them off at home and went off to work through the night. When I was putting Mae to bed she looked at me and asked:

--Where were you when we were at Grandma's?
--We were at home, babe.
--You mean you were here all the time?


I could see her confusion. Why on earth would we need to go away if they were here, manning the homestead? I kissed my beautiful girls on the forehead, said goodnight, and left their room. In my heart I was doing that little happy dance. It was a good weekend.

I know these photos don't really go with the post, but see that look on our faces? Happy dance.