As a working AND at-home mom of two kids under 5, I always feel like I’m rushing around.

Rushing to preschool.  Rushing to playdate. Rushing to cram in an errand or three between the two.

Rushing to run farther, faster, and sooner than any of my friends want to race.

Rushing to get my work done while the baby sleeps.

Rushing to finish the laundry before the kids lose interest in their waterplay in the sink nearby.

Rushing to get them ready for bed and then snuggled in for the long cuddle at bedtime.

Rushing again to squeeze in another hour or two of work in the wee hours between putting the preschooler down and when the baby gets up.

Rushing.  Always rushing.

Trying to enjoy it and savor it and love the time with my children, my most precious boys, but still haunted by the to do list and rushing to get it all done.

To be the perfect mom.  The pretty good wife.  The good enough scholar.  The hospitable keeper of the home.

Never done.  Never enough.  Never quite good enough.

But today I got a wake up call.  The world lost a good person today.  I knew her only as Barb from Philly, the one who persevered long enough to finally get Komen to recognize IBC.  She was amazing.

She was the longest survivor I’d ever heard of, save one.

She was diagnosed seven years ago.

And now she’s gone.

Most women with IBC recur within the first two years after treatment.  I’ve made it six months so far.

I wonder if I really want to spend my last few years always



15 Responses to Rushing

  1. Heather says:

    It’s hard. cancer or no. When the universe gives you things that make you reconsider the universe, well I listened. I took the girls out of a very good private preschool. I was tired of driving back and forth and having the baby nap in the pick-up line, yk? That alone has helped immensely. I’m not waiting to take on the big things that I really want since the timing is mostly right. For now, with the quiet, slow pace of winter, I think being at home is the right thing. Come Spring, well, I reserve the right to reconsider!

    It’s hard. I hate that Barb only had 7 years, but it sounds like she did all she could and then some. Cancer just plain sucks.

  2. marty says:

    You are living – and squeezing it all in. It’s the best any of us can do.

    No matter how many years any of us have left, we all just live them one day at a time.

    Love you.

    God bless Barb and her family.

  3. Oh I am so sorry to hear about Barb! We’ve had a series of deaths in the past couple weeks and all have been reminders that I need to stop rushing and slow down. It is hard though…So many things to do but like Marty said, just one day at a time.

  4. Ally says:

    I’m sorry to hear about Barb, too. What sad news.

    I struggle against rushing, too. I went on retreat a few weeks ago and the topic was simplicity. One phrase that stuck with me was looking at our resources as abundant rather than scarce. I feel that applies especially with my time. It feels scarce but I know it is abundant in reality, and I choose what to do with my time (most of the time anyway).

  5. justenjoyhim says:

    I’ve heard of one who’s made it 11 years.

    I’m so very sorry that Barb has passed. I’m so very very sorry that you have IBC because it totally sucks eggs and more; it just does.

    I want you to be one of the ones who beats the odds and makes it in the double digits. And by then . . . . maybe some new research will let us live even longer.

    That’s my hope and my prayer, my wish . . .
    my dear friend.

  6. whymommy says:

    And mine for you, Judy.
    And Stella.
    And all our other sisters with IBC.
    It is a terrible disease and one that no one deserves.

  7. justenjoyhim says:

    It is a terrible disease and one that no one deserves.

    *sigh*, absolutely.

  8. It is so hard to find the right balance.

  9. Donna4k says:

    My friend w/IBC has been living w/mets 4 years…recently had to lose a chunk of colon,3 years ago lost part of lower leg(complications of diabetes didn’t help there though) and looks like she survived a shark attack on her left side.She is in her 60s and is holding steady w/her numbers and is back to using her walker and can leave the chair at home.The colon tumor was there when she was diagnosed in 2004– they left it there since they thought she would not have 6 mo. Feb. will be 5 years. She gets chemo every other week on a Fri and is feeling ok again by Mon.She has beaten her time left factor x 10…hope everyone here can skew the statistics and count extra time in their lives. Do the best you can and let the rest hang… and keep hanging in there.

  10. Amanda says:

    Wishing you slow joy, and long happiness.

  11. I am crushed! Barb was a great customer and a smiling face at my craft store some years ago, I can’t believe she’s gone! I had just recently found out she had IBC through my specialists’ office manager comment that she was involved in CINJ. Too little too late, but I will have to attend her service tomorrow if I can. So so sad.

  12. NYfriend says:

    I’m so sorry to hear about Barb. I hope fond memories bring some comfort to her family.

    Your post rings so true for so many of us. How did we get caught up in all this rushing? I find myself drawn to books about Pioneers days (children’s books of course, can’t seem to find time for any other kind, but that’s okay!), obviously in response to all this rushing.

    Anyway, I need to try to get back to sleep.

    Big hugs 🙂

  13. I hear you with the rushing.

    But wake up calls like that, those that feel like a punch to the belly, are horrible. It is sad that it takes something like a death (for all of us) for us to sit back and take stock.

    ❤ babe.

  14. deb says:

    It’s not just you. I think we all need to ask ourselves that question. Take care sweetie.

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