I rushed through college and then law school, beginning my "career" at 24. I wasn't even old enough to rent a car for my first out-of-town deposition. I always wanted to and still usually do want to be done with whatever goal I'm working on. I've never been good at "enjoying the ride," "stopping to smell the roses," "carpe-ing the diem" or whatever. I live dangerously on the edge of missing out on things because I'm so anxious and focused on getting to the next goal line. That's why I'm recycling this song for my title - I've used it before but it hits me in the gut every time I hear it.
I find myself telling Pumpkin to hurry up a lot. Especially in the morning, before I am sufficiently caffeinated and when we are undoubtedly running further behind than I'd like. Toddlers are great at all that carpe, smelling, and enjoying. They thrive on it. They find the most mundane things in the world to delay doing the things that need to be done, like brushing teeth or getting dressed. And, I admit, sometimes it just frustrates the bejeezus out of me.
But off all the un-perfect parent things that I do and say, I find myself really beating myself up over telling my girls to hurry. I don't want them to hurry. Sure, sometimes I need to do things in a timely fashion, like get to work, but it hurts my heart to think that even for one second I'm teaching them they need to rush through life. I want them to move slowly. I want them to slow me down. I want to miss the proverbial bus once in a while just because we were too busy blowing bubbles and dancing through them.
More than anything, I just want them to be the age they are and I want to enjoy every second of it. The other day Pumpkin lamented to me that it was going to be "so long before she was a grown up". I hope she's right. I notice with Bug, I am in no hurry for her to reach her milestones (though she's blowing by them every day on her own). I pushed Pumpkin harder to get to the next thing: rolling, solid food, crawling, standing, walking, on and on and on. But with Bug its different. I'm trying to force myself to enjoy her dependence on me. She'll walk soon enough (probably any day now). For now, I just want her to be 10 months old. She'll have years of mobility ahead of her.
Pumpkin, too. She's a different story because she is so deep and so smart. She worries. She thinks. I don't want her to. I just want her to be a kid. I don't want her to hear things she shouldn't and clutter her pretty mind with news and sadness. I want her to be silly, to color, to sing, to dance, and to play outside till she smells like a puppy. She's three, that's what three year olds do.
And since I was in such a hurry myself to be a grown up, to finish school and start a job (joke's on me), letting (or making) my kids be kids will give me the chance to do it all again myself and this time to really cherish each moment. How many professional grown ups get to shake their sillies out before work in the morning (and what a better world it be if the answer were more)!
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