I don't like to be late. The thought of being late sends me into a tailspin. Rush. Rush. Rush.
I don't like to be early. It means that I could have done something else in the 15 minutes that I am wasting "sitting" around.
Does that make any sense? Really it doesn't, but it is exactly how I feel and how I create some of my own chaos.
Just the other day my daughter twisted her ankle. The next morning she woke up still complaining. I decided that it was better to be safe than sorry and have it checked. She has an unbelievable pain tolerance, so when she says something hurts - it HURTS.
Did I mention that our pediatrician is about 25 miles away. Sounds kind of crazy, right? I am sure there are very qualified and fantastic doctor's in this "neck of the woods", but when my kid's health and well being is on the line, I am going to the best (in Massachusetts)!
So back to my time crunching. Our appointment was at 10:00. We were early. I was thinking of all the things I could have done at home with those extra 15 minutes. We left with a prognosis of pulled tendon. Prescription - Rest. I drove the 25 miles back home - dropped her off at school at 11:00. My boy child had to be in school at 12:00.
Plenty of time!
I went home. Feed him lunch. Switched laundry. Played the game Trouble with him. Took some self-portraits (I should say tried to take some self-portraits) and then looked at the clock.
My time was up.
We were going to be late! The whole saga began again. Rush. Rush. Rush.
But as usual, we weren't late. We were right on time. So, maybe next time I will be 15 minutes early and just relish in the time to do nothing? Notice the question mark!