Finally… a post!

In some ways, I find it so hard to believe it’s been almost 3 weeks since I have updated my blog. It’s so strange the way life interferes with life. I have been tagged for a meme on why I blog and I want to send you all to blog entry over at the wonderful blog It’s not all Mary Poppins. The entry is about busy lives. Ironic, isn’t it?

I am going to defer the meme, I will post something soon. But I really want to share some thoughts about busy-busy-busy.

I told my husband about this article in the Washington Post. I told him it made me cry. Especially this part, which Mary P also quoted in her blog:

A couple of minutes into it, something revealing happens. A woman and her preschooler emerge from the escalator. The woman is walking briskly and, therefore, so is the child. She’s got his hand.

“I had a time crunch,” recalls Sheron Parker, an IT director for a federal agency. “I had an 8:30 training class, and first I had to rush Evvie off to his teacher, then rush back to work, then to the training facility in the basement.”

Evvie is her son, Evan. Evan is 3.

You can see Evan clearly on the video. He’s the cute black kid in the parka who keeps twisting around to look at Joshua Bell, as he is being propelled toward the door.

“There was a musician,” Parker says, “and my son was intrigued. He wanted to pull over and listen, but I was rushed for time.”

So Parker does what she has to do. She deftly moves her body between Evan’s and Bell’s, cutting off her son’s line of sight. As they exit the arcade, Evan can still be seen craning to look. When Parker is told what she walked out on, she laughs.

“Evan is very smart!”

The poet Billy Collins once laughingly observed that all babies are born with a knowledge of poetry, because the lub-dub of the mother’s heart is in iambic meter. Then, Collins said, life slowly starts to choke the poetry out of us. It may be true with music, too.

There was no ethnic or demographic pattern to distinguish the people who stayed to watch Bell, or the ones who gave money, from that vast majority who hurried on past, unheeding. Whites, blacks and Asians, young and old, men and women, were represented in all three groups. But the behavior of one demographic remained absolutely consistent. Every single time a child walked past, he or she tried to stop and watch. And every single time, a parent scooted the kid away.

“…every single time, a parent scooted the kid away.” This is what brought tears to my eyes.

Bug LOVES music and he wiggles his little body in an attempt to dance a lot of the time. Of course we encourage him, wiggling too. We sing too loud and out of key to the radio while he laughs at us. We think it’s too cool how he shows such an interest in music and dancing. We love to see that look on his face. The one that shows he is soaking up every note. We enjoy watching him play on his little plastic piano, or just banging to objects together to hear what noise it will make. I have got to believe that I would have been late later to work, if Bug and I happened across a violinist. But honestly, I just don’t know.

I have felt very busy lately. A May 31st deadline at work, kept me late several days last week. So late, in fact, Bug was in bed before I got home. Boy, if that doesn’t take the wind out of your sails!

It’s funny how things happen. A couple weeks ago I received a job offer. It’s a project based gig for now and we discussed me working a couple of hours in the evening, a couple of days a week. After last week, I’m not sure I’m up for it. Anyone who really knows me can tell you this is a bizarre statement for me. “Busy, busy, busy” used to be my mantra. Before I got married, I was working 60 to 70 hours a week and I spent much of my time in school part-time. When ever anyone asked me how I was, I usually replied “busy”. I always thought it was a good thing, and perhaps at that point in my life’s journey, it was a good thing. But not any more.

My work and my career, no longer define who I am. And holy shit, is this a change for me. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy being able to bring something to the table of my employer. I enjoy being told someone has a lot of respect for me and who I am at work (this actually happened last week – oh what a feeling).

But being Hunter’s Mom is more important to me now. Making sure Hunter grows up to be a respectful, well-rounded, loving human being is now my most important goal.

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4 Comments »

  1. Annika Said:

    I read that article a while ago and it really touched me, too. I hear you on time. Even home all day I feel like I don’t have enough! Isn’t it amazing how things change when there is a little person at the center of your world?

  2. Gina Said:

    We always have other crap we have to do, don’t we? It’s kinda sad.

  3. Yeah I’d like to think I’d have stopped and listened, but – who knows?

    Well, children obviously; we ought to try and remember how the world seems through the eyes – and ears – of a child. We’ll be better for it.

  4. Jenn Said:

    Yeah, I think about this idea in a number of ways. Interesting questions about how we want to be and what we want to do with our time.


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