Time

Time. It’s such an interesting little thing, that time; such a fluid concept. People always say it goes by more quickly the older you get, and it really does seem like that is true. But we haven’t lost any hours in the day, so what happens? 

We grow up. When I was a kid, I didn’t have to worry about whether I remembered to send this month’s electric bill, or take care of a budget, or provide food for my family, and cook it, and clean up after it, and go to work, and. and. and.  you get the point. Sure, I had school, and chores, but the majority of my time was spent doing what I wanted to do – like play Barbie’s and roller skate, you know, the important things. Even in college, while I had the added responsibility of part-time jobs, and more intense classwork, most of my time was still me-focused. I could choose when and where and how I wanted to spend it, and I’m realizing, that makes time seem so much longer.

I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately because it hits me at random times. I see someone out running at 11:00 am on a weekday, and wonder “Why don’t I run then? That looks like a gorgeous time of day!” Then I realize, if I leave for a run at 11, my son will want to eat lunch within the next 20 minutes, and will then be ready for a nap shortly thereafter. And if I tried to say "Oh well, I want to run now, so that's what I'm going to do!" I would face the consequences. Consequences that equal the equivalent of Armageddon in baby-world. Oh. THAT’s why I don’t run then. All fo that to say...these random epiphanies have caused me to start thinking about my concept of time, and why it seems that time does indeed move much more swiftly than it used to. And this is my conclusion:

I no longer wake up generally planning out my day, fluidly moving through it as I choose, rather, I think in: breakfast time; play time; lunch time; nap time; snack time; dinner time; bed time.

While there is a lot that happens in between those times, as soon as one is done, I mentally calculate how long til the next one so we can plan accordingly. A morning out? That requires enough planning for at least 2 snack times, a possible early lunch, 2 possible diaper changes, a sippy cup, etc. etc. (my child is a bottomless pit, I tell you!) Evening plans out? That involves: can we do dinner early enough to be home in time for a usual bedtime? If not, how far are we willing to push back bedtime before a meltdown occurs? Do we have plans tomorrow? If so, late bedtime=possible crap night of sleep=possible looong day tomorrow. Is it worth it?

Marriage gives you a little glimmer into the world of 'my time is not my own', but nothing quite so much as parenthood. Your 'me' time is often very small, and can be a mental battle of doing the responsible thing like possibly cleaning that bathtub that you know hasn't been touched in months (we use soap to wash, it gets clean from that, right?), or just relaxing, reading a book, and having a little wine. Rarely are there totally 'carefree' moments anymore. And nothing hurries your time along like realizing you don't own it.

I was talking to a single friend the other day, who let me know of the crazy spontaneous New Years' Eve they were able to have, that involved a last-minute road trip and celebrating the New Year in another state with a bunch of friends. Time? It was all theirs. My New Year involved having 2 lovely couples over to our house (after bedtime), eating appetizers and mixing drinks, a baby that joined the party around 9 pm because, hey, it's rude to party without him, and us barely making it til midnight awake. The funny thing was, as we exchanged stories and laughed at how totally different they were, I realized something. I was completely, utterly content with the New Year we had, and wasn't jealous of theirs. At all. 

Maybe that means I'm old. Maybe it means I'm boring. Or maybe it just means that this new concept of time - this trying to slow down the ever-speeding train and just enjoy the every day - isn't such a bad thing after all.