After 42 minutes of my children dawdling, complaining about school, and rushing back inside for forgotten items like lunches, homework, and jackets, I realized we were going to be late. Again. With keys clutched in my hand and anxiety mounting, I sat rigidly in the driver’s seat, waiting for the last one to finally tumble into the car. Teeth clenched, I backed out of the driveway without uttering a word.
I have three kids and two school drop-offs. If we leave even a minute late, it’s chaos. By “we,” I mean “me.” Sure, my kids might endure the embarrassment of a tardy slip, but once they hand it to the teacher and settle in, it’s over for them. For me, being late means sacrificing appointments, meetings with potential collaborators, and even workouts because I can’t arrive on time. My meticulously planned schedule gets disrupted just enough to keep me in a constant state of rush throughout the day.
I operate on tight margins. Don’t we all?
So when a white SUV pulled in front of me on the winding residential street, driving well below the 25 mph speed limit, I snapped. With the kids in the back, I kept my cursing to a minimum but banged on the steering wheel and semi-yelled, “What is going on with this guy?! Why is he driving so slowly? He’s making us LATE!”
I flashed my high beams and engaged in some passive-aggressive driving (I know, not my finest moment). After a minute or two, the driver finally pulled over, and I foolishly thought he was kindly letting me pass. Nope.
Instead, he opened his door and approached my car, forcing me to stop. He looked to be in his early 60s, dressed casually despite it being a Tuesday, and was clearly not happy.
What do you do when an irate driver confronts you? When he tapped on my window, I felt a rush of adrenaline and indignation. Who did this guy — obviously enjoying a leisurely drive — think he was? Didn’t he see the posted speed limit? Whatever he had to say, I was ready to fire back.
Taking a deep breath and putting on my best resting bitch face, I rolled down my window.
“What are you in such a hurry for?” he shouted. “You’re driving way too closely! You need to slow down!”
His words hit me like a ton of bricks: You need to slow down.
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. I wanted to defend myself, to argue that he was driving dangerously slowly, but deep down, I knew he was right.
From the moment I wake up, I feel like I’m constantly behind. Everything feels out of my control — how fast the kids will get ready, their moods, and sometimes even my own reactions. I rush around the house, tense and demanding, trying to reclaim lost time. Most mornings end with yelling or tears — mine or theirs. My heart races, my brow furrows, and my smile becomes scarce.
You need to slow down.
I buzz from one task to another all day long, juggling meals, chores, and homework, convinced that this frantic pace is what motherhood requires. Yet, this relentless hustle is unsustainable. It’s draining, disheartening, and frankly, it’s making me irritable.
When the stranger’s words floated through my open window, everything slowed down, and I found myself tearing up—not in an ugly cry, but just enough to keep my sunglasses on. I swallowed hard, realizing I wasn’t going anywhere, and it felt like a relief.
“You’re right,” I admitted. “I’m running late, and that’s not fair to you. I’m sorry.”
And I genuinely meant it. I felt remorse for upsetting him, for all the mornings I had raised my voice at my kids. I regretted letting my busy schedule trump simply being present. Most of all, I was sorry for myself, for neglecting to notice all that I was missing in my rush to check off tasks.
The man stood there, arms crossed, clearly taken aback. Finally, he softened. “Just take your time,” he said before heading back to his car and driving away.
I remained still for a moment, my heart racing, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Is that man mad at you, Mommy?” my youngest daughter asked from her booster seat.
“Not really,” I replied, lying slightly. “He was just upset because I was driving too close to him when I shouldn’t have.”
“Are we going to be late?” she inquired.
“Yep, we definitely are,” I said. “But it’s okay; we’re not really in a hurry anymore.”
To learn more about navigating the world of home insemination, be sure to check out our articles on the Cryobaby At-Home Insemination Kit and explore Couples’ Fertility Journey for Intracervical Insemination for expert insights. For further information about pregnancy and home insemination, you can also visit WebMD’s comprehensive resource.
In summary, a chance encounter with a stranger forced me to confront my hectic lifestyle, reminding me of the importance of slowing down and being present for my family. Life is too short to be constantly rushing, and sometimes, we need a wake-up call to help us realize that.
Keyphrase: Slowing Down in Parenting
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