Busy, Busy

I’m not sure at what point I started competing, but my shameless add-ons of “I’m busier” are embarrassing.  

The other day, near the end of a parent meeting for one of our teams, a mom whispered over to me that if the meeting ran long she was never going to get dinner cooked at a decent hour.  I almost reflexively out-did her with, “Nice to have just that to get back to!  I have dinner AND laundry AND school paperwork waiting." Luckily I stopped myself, but I was appalled that such a statement was about to leave my mouth.  

For what?  To out-busy her? Oh look at me, I have so much on my plate.  

It's like when someone says they napped all Sunday long, I feel the need to snort and mumble “I could NEVER find the time to nap with ALL I have to get done."  

Come on! 

This needs to stop. And this unhealthy keep-up-the-pace daily rhythm that we call normal is far from it.

A friend recently shared, after running through her recitation of the activities that filled her week, “What do you know?  I’ve become as busy as you!”  But I didn’t’ know my jam-packed calendar was the barometer for a satisfying lifestyle!  And she said it like that’s a good thing! With pride.  

No. There is no fill up your day, and you will get a big surprise!

I was reciting a litany of what I accomplished over the weekend, the back and forth driving I did to get my kids to their tournaments and then how I would spend time at each to see them play, then pick them up, drop off their friends, etc.  Across the lunch table, the childless woman directly across from me asked me why I felt compelled to do it all.  Very patronizingly, she suggested, "Couldn’t you recruit help and go shopping or get a facial, do something for you?  Don’t you deserve some you time?”  Then she continued to go on how so many mothers should consider embracing the WhenI’veTakenCareOfMeI’mABetterMother dogma. 

My friend couldn’t believe I didn’t blast the All Knowing One with both barrels, but I didn’t see the value in it.  How do you explain to someone with no children and no responsibilities other to themselves, that to pawn off tasks to go fuck off somewhere for an afternoon is pointless if it means missing a whole afternoon with your kids?  Actually, the conversation checked me. I realized how I must sound, listing each day's events, broken down into tasks? What a bore!

Why wasn't I talking about how I chose to be there, that I won't miss a moment if I can help it. Instead of counting off mileage and consumed Monsters, I should have told her that each afternoon I don’t make it out to support my kids from the sidelines, witness their incredible triple or their pitch that shut down the game, I’ve missed out.  I’ve squandered a chance to share a memorable moment, to be a part of that day, to participate in their elation.  And if the intended home run is a strike out, or the perfect pitch is called a ball for a walk, I want to be there.  Because when they look into the stands and see me there, they know I feel their pain, and they're not alone.

Of course I'd be lying if I said I'm always completely present at their events, in the moment entirely. Sometimes it's enough just to be there, or at least I thought it was enough. I broke my own rule of being present in the moment at a baseball game this summer, and pulled out my Kindle.  Watching paint dry would have been more stimulating than the snoozer of that particular game.  On the way home in the car, I made a comment or two about the game, and my son’s friend blurted out, “Don’t know why you bothered to stay. You read your book the whole time.”  Flabbergasted, I realized if a kid other than my own noticed my engagement, or lack of it, then imagine how acutely my kids sense it.

I digress a bit. The point is we are a busy family. But we''ll only be this busy for another year or two. So forgive me when I spew forth details of the weekend instead of how I wouldn't trade a moment on the bleachers for a day at a spa. I'll try harder to say what I mean.

Unfortunately, I still may bore you.