"Hey, Mama, did you see that hawk?"
"No," I snapped, "I'm watching the traffic so we don't die in a fiery crash."
A moment lost, I know. Ordinarily, I would have enjoyed sharing this experience, a beautiful, big, red-tailed hawk soaring over the car. But I'd just spent fifteen minutes heatedly lecturing my children on the importance of preparation, promptness, and courtesy.
I was in no mood for beauty.
Credit: usfwssoutheast.
It was a busy day. Two of my children off school, the third with a delayed start. All three with dental appointments. One had to be at the ski hill at noon, another back at school at 1:00, the third at a 2:30 dance team practice and evening meet. In between these events I had to pick up two other carpooling kids, and attend a holiday work event.
My kids participated in this busy-ness by bickering, complaining, and procrastinating—a combination guaranteed to have me steaming by the time we hit the car. The result? We spent the ride enduring my one-way conversation.
As my kids hit their teens, it seems like we have more days than not that go like this. Everyone has places to go and things to do. It's a challenge to squeeze in meals and family time. Their priorities are changing, and mine, to my frustration, change along with theirs.
I want so much to enjoy the rare moments I have with my kids. I want to feel overwhelming gratitude for their health, their enthusiastic pursuit of their interests, our precious family time. But some days it's darned hard.
I have to remind myself, over and over, to:
Practice what I preach. If I don't want my kids to spend the last few minutes before we leave trying to locate their ear buds, I should probably be packed up and ready to go at the time specified. If I’m running around, so will they.
Remember that time heals. As painful as it is to get through a stressful day, the stress usually dissipates with the daylight. Few of my bad moods, or theirs, live to see a second day. Every time the sun rises, I get a do-over.
Take a breath. A stressed-out mom is a sure contributor to stressed-out kids. A moment of peace, a “time out” if you will, can neutralize a lot of tension.
At the end of the day, when I was finally alone in the car, I passed another large red-tailed hawk, sitting on a telephone pole near the turn-off to our home. For a fleeting moment, I envied that hawk, sitting above the traffic, surveying the craziness from a distance. I wondered what it would feel like to soar away, with no more to think about than identifying my next meal.
But the moment passed. There’s dinner to prepare, and kids to pick up, and another busy day to plan for. I think it’s best if I keep my feet on the ground.