I realized recently that my house – or maybe it’s my life – exists in some kind of freaky time vortex.
I think we all feel that time speeds up the older we get. And there are few moms who didn’t experience rainy days at home with a houseful of small children, in which each second is ten seconds long and a day lasts 39 1/2 hours. I’ve been there, too.
But I could swear the speeding-up and slowing-down of time is happening at an increased rate recently. If I were on the “Lost” island, my nose would be bleeding constantly and my brain would be about to explode.
Consider the evidence:
•A couple of weeks ago I got up at my regular time. I did my normal routine, nothing out of the ordinary. The next time I looked up at the clock, it was almost an hour past the time I usually leave for work. No idea what happened. And it WASN’T time change Sunday. It wasn’t even the day that my stupid alarm clock THINKS is time change Sunday.
•This morning I got up a little earlier than usual, but not much. Again, I did my normal routine, nothing out of the ordinary. I was completely ready to go and about to walk out the door when I realized it was almost an hour earlier than the time I normally leave for work.
But wait, there’s more:
•Once upon a time in my house, the afternoon/evening hours sped by so fast there was rarely time for me to do anything but chauffer kids, help them with homework, throw together a decent meal, clean up after it, and dash out the door for that night’s meeting/rehearsal/audition/performance. Now, hours of quiet and solitude stretch out before me almost every evening. Peaceful, but L-O-N-G.
•When my far-away loved ones manage to get home for a few days, time moves so fast it makes my head spin. I can practically hear the eerie sci-fi synthesizer sounds, indicating that we’ve entered some kind of time warp. I try to hang onto each precious second, remaining present in each moment; rejoicing over the joy and energy they bring to the household and to my life. But the moments slip away with increasing speed. Before I can even blink, my darlings are gone again and back to living their away-from-home lives.
With Thanksgiving coming up in just a few weeks, all five of us will be together in a noisy, crazy jumble; stumbling over each other in our little house, talking over each other, and making each other laugh with our references to long-standing family inside jokes. I’m just hoping that five-day weekend exists, for once, in that wave of the time warp that makes time seem to stand still.
It’s not too much to ask, is it?