The Reason Why Moms Can't Slow Down

Jan 22, 2019 by apost team

You want to take a seat when they ask. You'd love to kick your feet up and relax. But if you did, how would any of it happen?

It's not magic that holds everything together, though that's what your family seems to believe.

They ask you why you forgot the sprinkles for the ice-cream. It's a simple question, but you can't respond. You're dumbfounded and short of breath. It's the first moment you've slowed down all day. You feared you'd forget something, and by God, that's what you did. Something important, too.

Your youngest son reminded you that very morning, and you wrote it on the list. It's his birthday. You wanted everything to be perfect. Your heart sinks.

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After dropping the kids off at school, you rush to the store and quickly start throwing items in the cart. You head toward another aisle for sprinkles, but something distracts you, a text. You have to let your boss know you'll turn in the assignment by 5:00. That's when you remember your daughter's emergency appointment with the orthodontist at 4:30. Anxious fear sweeps through you, along with undeniable starvation. You struggle to find the nuts in your purse for a temporary snack to hold you until lunch.

The spoonful of peanut butter in the morning wasn't enough, but you had to get your kids to school on time. Your youngest didn't want the added embarrassment on his special day.

Now that you have a little sustenance, panic sets in. You have to get moving. You still need to pick up your son's presents and party favors. And let's not forget the epic cake you promised to make, the one he jumped up and down about the night before.

As you toss the bags in the passenger seat, relieved to be on schedule, you realize you didn't get two things never put on the shopping list. You're so happy and proud of yourself for remembering that you don't mind the drive back to the store to get them. You may be a little frazzled and disappointed that you broke the promise to yourself never to speed again, but you make it on time to pick up your kids. You can't leave them meandering along the sidewalk in harm's way.

You pace outside the door of the orthodontist explaining why you need another day to finish your work while the kids sift through magazines.

When home, the kids pile out of the car, happy to run inside and begin their cherished period of freedom. You feel it for a moment, too. But then you remember you need to do laundry. You have no clean underwear, and the kids need clean clothes to wear for the celebration. Your husband would be sure to point it out if you didn't, baffled by the fact that you had all day to do it.

You still need to get busy with the cake and set up the decorations. That's when every child places permission slips on the counter for you to sign. Why does it feel so difficult to do? You stare in a trance, paralyzed for a few seconds. How can you possibly stop the momentum, all the things racing in your mind that you're taking care of one by one? Is there even a pen anywhere?

You want to cry, like a little girl. It's too much. You try to calm down, hoping the deep breaths will help, but then you look at the time. No, you absolutely can't stop moving. The slips will have to wait until tomorrow morning in the car.

You try to delegate chores only you have to spend so much time explaining how to do it. It's time you don't have, all the while praying it gets done correctly. Why does it feel like you have some kind of special radar? You notice everything that's out of place---precariously dangling---needing to be wiped off. Doesn't anybody else see it, or care?

You think you have time to slow down, take a seat, take a load off your aching back, but Nah. The milk spills, the water in the tub overflows, and the cocoa powder your daughter decided to play with smudges the carpet.

So many small details and they're all in your hands. You remind them to say please and thank you. You teach them how to wipe themselves, tie their shoes, be considerate of their siblings. Your brain wrestles with the algebraic equations your child can't figure out. You don't want to spend another restless night worrying about all the things you still have to get done. So you are hell-bent to get it finished by bedtime---otherwise, you'll pay. It's unacceptable, downright unbearable to finish up in the morning.

Tomorrow brings a whole new slew of things to accomplish. You want to start fresh even if it means four hours sleep and never sitting down. Otherwise, you'll never catch up.

You wonder how you can go on as you appease your little guy. You make him homemade chocolate syrup to put on his ice-cream instead. Everyone arrives in the kitchen with their sweet smelling, warm clothes.

The cake isn't perfect, but for some reason, it gets by your family and guests. Everyone sings the birthday song joyously, and you look at your son blowing out his candles. Six-years-old. Has it been that long?

Your heart swells so big that you feel like the Grinch. The cosiness surrounds you and tears fill your eyes. Then your daughter wraps her arms around your waist and says she misses you.

Later that night you stand in their room, staring at your little angels sleeping in bed. You marvel at their delicate pink eyelids, the gentle cooing of their soft, warm breath. You're ready for tomorrow now. It's worth every precious moment. The couch can wait. Moms don't slow down because they're deeply afraid that if they do, they will never make up for lost time.

If you can relate, let us know. Get the word out to all the moms you know so they can tell us, too. We'd love to hear from you and help mothers everywhere know they're not alone!