Every minute counts. I know. This is nothing new. In fact, these three words may bring on eye rolls galore. Whether we are talking about managing our time, getting things done, or spending quality time with our loved ones, we hear those words all the time. Every minute counts.
If I know that every minute counts, and I know that everyone else knows that every minute counts, then why even bother to write about it? Well, I have a story that proves that even when I know that every minute counts, I don't always act like a person who is aware of this. My story is nothing earth shattering, but I am going to share it anyway. Clearly, I am not very good at applying the every minute counts mindset to my life.
In my story, I am reminded that every minute counts in the literal sense. Every single thing that I do - no matter how small the task - takes time. Seconds and minutes continue to tick by no matter what. No kidding, right? But here's the thing: pretty much every time I go anywhere, I only think about how long it takes me to get ready and and then the travel time. So, if I need to be somewhere by 9am and it takes 15 minutes to get there, then I need to be ready to leave by 8:45am, right? WRONG. Especially if you are leaving the house with kids, this is very, very wrong. But even if you don't have kids, this is probably still wrong.
My first problem is how I define when I need to leave. Let's use 9am as the example because this is what happened to me the other day. If it takes me 15 minutes to get where I am going, I often make the mistake of thinking I need to be walking out the door when my kitchen clock says 8:45 in order to get there by 9. What I forget to include in this formula are those transitional minutes: how long it takes to put shoes on (my shoes and my kids' shoes), carry all the things we need to the car, carry children to the car, buckle the car seats, and back out the garage and driveway. If I need to be pulling out of my garage by 8:45, I can't expect to walk out of my kitchen at 8:45 and once everything and everyone is loaded safely in the car, the clock will magically show that it is still 8:45 . No...as much as I wish it were true, time does not stand still as we transition from house to car (and believe me, I have tried many, many times). All of these transitional minutes take time. The seconds keep ticking.
Even when we arrive, there is all the unbuckling, putting on jackets, and trying to gather and carry everything. This means even if we are pulling out of our driveway at 8:45, it is very likely that we will still not arrive by 9am. Even if I pull into a parking space at 9am - or a couple of minutes before - does not mean we are on time. Not when getting everyone and everything out of the car and walking from the car to the final destination take additional minutes. Plus, now that we have a new tiny member of the family, those transitional moments are taking a lot longer than before.
So, here is my story. Recently, my daughter's teacher changed the class schedule so that the formal morning activities begin right at 9am. Previously, 9am would be when students were transitioning from free play to morning circle. When we arrived between 9 and 9:15, students were still cleaning up, using the bathroom, and making their way to the carpet for their morning meeting. The formal morning activities would begin any time between 9:15 and 9:30. This meant that if we were walking in close to 9:15, we were more than likely on time for the official start of the day.
The first morning activity of the day is sitting in a circle on the carpet for daily jobs. There are not enough jobs for every student, so the names of students who did not get a job the day before are placed in a box, the teacher draws a name, and then that child chooses a job that is available. The teacher continues to draw names until all of the jobs are filled. You only get a job if you are present for this activity. If you are late, you don't get a job. My daughter lives for daily jobs. This is her one and only motivation to go to school in the morning. The day is always a happier one when she gets a job. She understands that she won't get a job every day, but she is always excited for the morning ritual of daily jobs.
What is much more difficult for my daughter to understand is when she misses out on jobs because we arrive too late. My daughter, like most 4-year-olds, likes to do things herself. On top of that, she likes to take her time. I am guilty of being that mom saying "Hurry! Hurry! We have to go!" I have recently replaced these words with, "We are on Cheetah-time!" But the message is the same: Let's go! We are going to be late! Reminding my daughter that we need to be on Cheetah-time in order to get to school for jobs usually puts a spring in her step.
Because of the new schedule change, I knew we had to leave earlier. On the old schedule, we were leaving just a few minutes before 9. Because we now needed to get there 15 minutes earlier, in my head, I thought "Okay, we need to leave by 8:45 at the absolute latest, but we should probably be heading to the car by 8:35." I was keeping my eye closely on the clock all morning. I woke up my daughter about 20 minutes earlier. She got dressed. I did her hair. She ate and brushed teeth. At 8:35, I was ready to load the kids in the car. I decided to quickly check the baby's diaper because I did not want a leak in the car seat. In hindsight, I should have skipped this, but you know how that goes. If I didn't check, there would have no doubt been a very messy situation. At 8:40 we were heading to the garage, so I thought we were still doing okay. This was still almost 20 minutes earlier than we usually leave. I don't know how, but getting shoes on, loading the car, buckling car seats, buckling my seat belt, starting the car, and pulling out of the driveway took 8 minutes. Eight minutes. I couldn't believe that my clock said 8:48 when we left our house.
I made great time. We pulled into a parking space at 9:00am (the drive can take 12 minutes, but I always tell myself 15 to give myself a little cushion - although clearly that still did not work on this day). I thought to myself, "Okay. It's 9:00 now. She will still be there for most of the morning meeting, and she should still be able to get a job." After all, we are here, and it should only take me a minute to get her to her classroom. Right? WRONG (again). By the time I got her and the baby out of the car, and figured out how to carry the car seat, the lunch bag, and the backpack, and unlocked the front door, and walked my daughter down the hall to her classroom, it was about 9:03. The teacher was literally putting the last name on the board for the last job. I don't know who was more devastated - me or my daughter. I looked at her and whispered, "I am so sorry." I felt like I was going to cry, and she looked like she was on the verge of doing the same. I felt so sad...and a little angry at myself too. This was totally and completely my fault.
I am sure there are plenty of people who, if they heard my story, would think, "Wow! She needs to get it together!" And I would completely agree that I need to do better. Perhaps there are others who would say, "Give yourself a break. We've all been there." And they would probably also be right. Most of us have been there at some point, and we will probably be there again one day. Maybe there is someone else who would say, "That sounds like me! I thought I was the only one!" If there is that person out there, rest assured, you are most certainly not alone. After all, we are all just humans doing the best that we can. We make mistakes and mess up...even when we are doing our best.
And so my lesson in my story is that every minute counts. Even those transitional minutes count. I need to be more mindful of these minutes because they are part of our days too. If I start to count these minutes and plan for these minutes, it may make all of the minutes before and after these transitions happier ones...or at least less stressful ones. Maybe this will help make me more present and more fun in the morning with my children. Because the reality is, these mornings with my children are a precious part of the day. It's my time with them before we all go our separate ways and do our own things for the day. Mornings set the tone for the day, and there is no reason they shouldn't be filled with joy and laughter (or at least some joy and laughter on most days). Getting ready in the morning can count as beautiful quality time with my children. These minutes count too. They all count. It's time that I do my part in making them count.
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