After a frustrating 42 minutes of my children dragging their feet, complaining about school, and running back inside for forgotten items like lunches and jackets, I realized we were going to be late. Again. With my keys in hand and rising anxiety, I waited in the driver’s seat for the last child to hop in. Teeth clenched, I silently backed out of the driveway.
I have three kids and two school drop-offs, and if we’re even a minute late, chaos ensues. When I say “we,” I mean “me.” Sure, my kids might have to hand a tardy slip to their teachers, but once they settle into their seats, it’s over. For me, being late means missing appointments, such as a doctor’s visit or a meeting with a potential collaborator. I often sacrifice my own exercise time simply because I can’t make it to a class on schedule. My meticulously planned day is disrupted, leaving me in a perpetual state of rush.
I operate on a tight schedule—don’t we all? So, when a white SUV pulled out in front of me on our narrow street and drove well below the 25 mph speed limit, I lost my cool. With the kids in the car, I kept my frustration in check, but I couldn’t help banging on the steering wheel and muttering, “What’s wrong with this guy? He’s making us LATE!”
I flashed my headlights and engaged in that passive-aggressive driving behavior (I know, not my finest moment). After a couple of minutes, he finally pulled over, and I mistakenly thought he was letting me pass. Instead, he emerged from his vehicle, marching toward my car looking less than pleased.
What do you do when an irritated driver confronts you? As he tapped on my window with a scowl, I could feel the adrenaline and indignation bubbling up. Who did he think he was? Clearly enjoying a leisurely drive, he didn’t seem to care about the posted speed limit. I braced myself for a confrontation, ready to defend my right to be frustrated.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” he shouted. “You’re following way too closely! You need to slow down!”
Those last five words hit me hard: You need to slow down.
I opened my mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words. I wanted to argue that he was driving too slowly, dangerously so as he merged into moving traffic. But deep down, I knew he had a point.
From the moment I wake up, I feel like I’m racing against the clock. So many aspects of my life feel beyond my control—how quickly the kids get ready, their moods, and sometimes even my own reactions. I dash around the house, tense and demanding, trying to reclaim lost time. Most mornings end with yelling or tears—on both sides. My heart races, my brow is furrowed, and my smile is hard to come by.
You need to slow down.
Throughout the day, I rush from one task to another, juggling responsibilities and cramming one more call or errand in before I pick up my kids, start dinner, and manage homework and bedtime. I tell myself this frantic pace is part of motherhood, and I should be doing it all perfectly.
But I can’t keep up this version of motherhood; it’s exhausting and disheartening. It’s making me irritable.
When the stranger’s words floated through my window, everything slowed down, and I began to cry—not a full-on ugly cry, but enough that I kept my sunglasses on. I took a deep breath and acknowledged my truth. “You’re right,” I admitted. “I’m running late, and that’s not fair to you. I’m really sorry.”
And I genuinely was. I regretted rattling him and causing his frustration. I felt remorse for the mornings I had yelled at my kids, for allowing busyness to overshadow being present. Mostly, I was sorry for myself, for missing out on precious moments in my rush to tick off items on my to-do list.
The man stood there, arms crossed, seemingly uncertain how to respond. After a moment, he softened a bit. “Just take your time,” he said before returning to his car and driving away.
I sat there for a moment, my heart racing and tears streaming down my face.
“Is that man mad at you, Mommy?” my youngest daughter asked from her booster seat.
“Not really,” I replied, lying slightly. “He was just frustrated because I was too close to him when I shouldn’t have been.”
“Are we going to be late?” she asked.
“Yep, we are definitely going to be late,” I said. “But thankfully, we’re not really in a hurry anymore.”
Reflecting on that encounter, I realize the importance of slowing down—not just in driving but in life itself. If you’re looking to explore more about home insemination and fertility, check out this helpful resource. For those interested in self insemination, you might want to visit Make a Mom.
In the end, it’s not just about accomplishing tasks; it’s about being present.