Fast forward


Today I was struck by how focused I’ve been this month. 

I’ve had a million things happening and I was scattered to the four winds, 

but I had the last few days where things seemed to 

Pause 

And I realized how much I’ve gotten done while feeling completely overwhelmed, sinking with my obligations.

Today my head bobbed above the water for the first time in awhile, and I realized the reason I feel I can’t handle even one more thing is because I really can’t,

there’s no more time in my day.

I’m waking up at 4:30 most days, wide awake before my alarm clock goes off because my brain has shifted into second gear before I even knew it.

I get so much done in the first two hours of the day that I’ve done what I used to do in an afternoon. 

Emails answered, editing done, and a work out most mornings done before 6:30, 

followed by the hour of morning mayhem of getting myself and children ready for the weekday.

And then it’s a busy day at work, while thinking about all the things I should or could be doing, 

wondering what I’m forgetting in the melee.

At five-ish, its rush home for dinner and stories and bedtime, while I sit for the first time and try to relax.

But that’s where things have been falling apart. 

Relaxation is getting harder, not easier, 

the more I put on my plate,

lack of sleep begets lack of sleep, and lack of rest begets 

being unable to rest. 

It’s the end of the month again, and Thanksgiving is looming just around the corner. 

The harvest is mostly done now, and the weather becoming unpredictable 

the way it always does when fall arrives.

The bright warmth of the sunshine today and the feel of bite in the mornings reminds me of soft snow blankets 

and natures long winter nap, 

and I think of myself, 

sitting on the couch, cozy blanket and book, surrounded by snuggling children.

The peace in the image is overwhelming, 

and I promise that this year I will be so very thankful as I enjoy those moments.

I promise that I’ll shut off the must-do’s long enough 

to smell the baby powder before it disappears.

That I’ll capture the innocently hilarious things they tell me while we watch TV.

That I’ll stop and freeze this moment.

And just breathe