Slow down Mommy…

Found this unfinished piece from some years back…

I scrambled through the morning rush trying to get my three-year old to school on time. I was on my routine brink of insanity. Thoughts rushed through my head; responsibilities wandered by; and a list of unfinished tasks meandered close by.

I scrambled and dashed and rushed. “Finish your last bite”, “where is the other sock?”, “let me clean your face”, “be still when I comb your hair”, “your left shoe is on your right foot”, “did we put lotion on your face – your lips look chapped”, “do you have your lunch box?”, “please don’t swing your lunch box like that…”  

Despite my barrage of words, the child carried on in slow motion (or so it seemed to me). Bewildered, bemused by the manner in which she was being herded around like cattle (Hey, cattle with a clean face! Remember I wiped her face and put lotion? Sigh… at least I think I did.)

Some whines, some protests, some disgruntled looks later, I was finally buckling her up in her car seat. “Lunch box! We forgot your lunch box,” I exclaimed. Within a split second, super-mom returned with it. I continued buckling her; muttering of course, how we were always late.

That was when she put her chubby fingers on my hand and simply said, “Slow down Mommy”.  And for the first time that morning, I slowed down. I stared at her, at her wisdom, at her intuition.

I didn’t know whether to feel proud, sad, or irritated. I kissed her; I thought I was going to tear up. Then of course, I noticed the time and started dashing again.

“Slow down mommy,” she said – simply, innocently and fittingly. The three-year-old was following her instincts. This wise little being innately knew what to do and what not to do.  “Slow down mommy,” she said…

I read this over and over. I wanted to complete the thought, remember? But I couldn’t.  My stream of thought, the range of current emotions, didn’t quite match those from that day.

For reading this was emotional. I was touched by the innocence, intuitiveness and astute observation of the child.

Reading this was painful. It was almost like a slap in the face. I knew from so many years ago – how not to be; how not to parent; how not to live my life. And yet I had done just that.

Reading this made me feel guilty. For my now eight-year-old no longer says, “slow down mommy”. She is often in a mad tearing rush herself. And I have probably made her so.

Reading this makes me wonder if I can do anything about it. Can I change the course or rather the speed, the hurry and the rush?

Reading this makes me want to try…