This morning when I woke up, peacefully and quietly, without the blare of the alarm, I immediately knew something was wrong. There was too much light. Too much time had passed since I convinced Maren at 5:15 to lay back down for a half hour. I couldn't remember setting the alarm.
It is in these moments that I am most amazed at what I can accomplish. At 7:00, I leaped from bed and ran to Brynna's room. "Car line starts at TEN minutes," I yelled around my toothbrush, already moving. Walking back to my room, I yanked the pajama top off Maren's head, got myself dressed, paused to help her get the dress over head and stuck earrings in my pocket.
Into the kitchen, I had lunch packed in record time and didn't even pause to consider what to do when I realized we were out of carrots. (Add pineapple. Two fruits instead of a fruit and a vegetable is still better than crackers or cheese or something.)
Within 15 minutes, the windshield was scraped, and my clothed, clean and prepared children were in the car and we were heading toward town. (Let's not talk about hair. None of us remembered to brush our hair.)
We were 15 minutes late to Brynna's school, but Maren made car line and I was still five minutes early to work. Not a bad start for someone who woke up a full hour and fifteen minutes late.
The thing about that rush, that crazy, don't look back, don't stop moving, just keep going at all costs rush, though is that it's hard to turn off. Pulling up in front of Montessori, I practically tossed Maren out of the car door, breaking protocol and rules because I forgot where I was. I tore up the Interstate on the way to work, even though I knew by then I had plenty of time. And I ran around the office like a crazy person flipping on lights and unlocking doors and generally acting like an idiot, even after I knew that I was early.
This. This is the story of my life, right now. I feel like I haven't stopped in weeks. The truth is that just a few, short days ago, I slept until 11:00 a.m. Just this past weekend, I spent a lazy Saturday shopping and then catching up on my DVR. And yet, here I am just a few days later and I feel like I've been going nonstop for weeks.
Why is that?
It's because I'm letting it get to me. We're moving the office at Small NonProfit. I'm waiting on budget approval for a bunch of expenditures. I'm trying to be as great as my new boss thinks I am. And that's just at work. At home, I've got things scheduled LITERALLY every night this week. My house is a wreck and my cats don't remember what I look like.
The stress may kill me. I just keep trying to remind myself that if it does, it's because I let it.