About Rebecca Eckler
Since becoming pregnant with her daughter Rowan, Canadian journalist and author Rebecca Eckler has penned three hilarious books, including the best-selling Knocked Up. Catch Rebecca’s weekly unique perspective on motherhood and single parenthood.
I’m always early. I have a short essay in my book, Toddlers Gone Wild, about what “time” means to mothers. As I explain, 20 minutes in “motherland” is the equivalent of two hours in non-motherland.
How many of us mothers can shower, dress and brush our teeth in less than 20 minutes? Heck, I can do it in less than 10. Once you become a mother, time is a luxury. So, if someone is 20 minutes late meeting me, I’m generally trying to hide how I’m fuming inside. In that 20 minutes, I could have conditioned my hair, had a longer shower, read a book to my child…
On the other side, motherhood provides a good excuse to be late. Your daughter cried when you were leaving and you had to soothe her. You had to make sure your child got their homework done. For new mothers, you had to do a sudden diaper change, after you had already stuffed them into their snowsuits.
In any case, I was sick and tired of feeling like I was always running late. It felt as if I was always rushing. I was rushing every morning to get my daughter to school. I was rushing her to get to her activities. I was rushing to get back to pick her up from a playdate. It was non-stop rush! This made me a very anxious person. I can see why one of my best friends with three children is always, quite literally, on the verge of a panic attack. So I set all of my clocks at least 12 minutes ahead, in hopes that I would never feel rushed. And I mean all of them. I changed the time on my alarm clock, the time on my microwave, the time in my car, the time on my BlackBerry. In fact, I have no actual idea what time it actually is…EVER.
“The lesson is starting 20 minutes late today?” I asked the music teacher gently. I had to grocery shop during my daughter’s music class, and wanted to make sure I would get that extra twenty minutes.
“No, we’re starting two minutes late,” the music teacher responded, looking at the big old-school clock on the wall.
“Oh, sorry!” I said, looking at my BlackBerry, which showed a time so far ahead of the time the rest of the city was on.
It’s interesting not really ever knowing what time it is, but I can tell you this much: my daughter and I are never late. But, yet, I still always feel rushed.
Any other ideas? How do you deal with the mama time crunch.