Sunday, March 08, 2009

Seven Minutes

I saw a dear mama-friend rushing to the driver's seat Friday. I'm late. I'm late. she crowed. I'm just 30 minutes late all the time now. She explained. I could tell it really bothered her. And, I know it.

With two kids the job schedule is wingy, you are often late. And, you're pretty sure all the time they are talking behind your back. Everyone noticing you come a lot late and leave a little early. And, within the painful first months especially when you are 30 minutes late knowing about the by-choice bit. It is slow with the kids, certainly, but only about 23 minutes slow by their pace. There's always those seven minutes. The seven you owe the world but hoard instead. Just two for your own reluctant separation, in general, and the extra pieces of time at each brow. Just like her, my baby boy, my little girl and a small, guilt-filled lingering.

Happy International Women's Day, ladies.

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Blogger Bon said...

i hate the being late too, because i never thought of myself as someone who was late before.

but when i worked, yes, i noticed that the 23 crept into 30. and hoped no one else did, and knew that wasn't true and felt both shame and defiance about it.

5:39 a.m.  
Blogger Mad said...

Time stress is the worst stressor in my life. And I do so hate how my day gets gnawed away at both ends and that's not even counting the work time given over to school emails, Dr appointments, class registrations...

In other news, I have scoured the Internet today trying to track the source of your cryptic comment on GiST. Any chance you want to let me in the loop?

10:35 a.m.  
Blogger L. said...


I was 22 minutes late this morning, as a matter of fact.

10:06 p.m.  
Blogger Chicky Chicky Baby said...

Time is my enemy. I suspect it will be for a very long... well, time. Duh.

6:15 p.m.  

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