Too many times, I'm dashing to get the kids to school on time - even get to pre-school on time, which doesn't matter so much. I rush the girls out of the door, frogmarch, even. Some days I feel like Captain Von Trapp. That if I don't run it all with military precision, the house of cards will collapse (mixed metaphors, I know.)
But you need time to enjoy your family. You need to make time. Well, I know I do. Otherwise you miss the moments. The silly questions you get asked. The problems they'll voice. Just a look, or a smile.
At the moment, I'm frustrated. I'm having to change pace. I'm slowed down by fatigue, headaches, nosebleeds. We can't do a lot. But I'm trying to make the most of snuggling in front of a trite Barbie movie. Celebrating when I manage to roast a chicken, even though I didn't get to the veggies. (We never did vitamin tablets before this time.) And I do think it's God-given. Frequently, I try and guess the world I'm in. What's going to come next. What the future holds. I'm lousy at living in the moment. But I'm being forced to slow down. Put even my plans for developing a ministry outside my family on hold. Do what I can, and don't sweat the small stuff.
We're bringing new life into the world, and we already have two live treasures to take care of. So my husband and I are managing the load between us, I don't quite know how. (It helps that we have a special set of employment circumstances, and I have a hero of a husband.) But it's a lesson to learn, or a reminder of one. Rushing from extra-curricular this to scheduled that; worrying the world will end if something doesn't get done for someone; losing it when one of those bottom-layer cards starts to wobble (OK, I've done some major hormonal losing it, but I figure that's allowed!) There's an Eric Carle book about a sloth which questions why he's so slow. For the sloth, it's not slowness - it's his pace. We all have to find the right pace. I'm being forced into mine. I'm trying not to complain.