Kate Rice

From Angry Kitty, by Kate Rice

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Today I took a shower, dried, and styled my hair into a reasonably neat mess.

In 15 minutes.

Is your mind blown? It should be.

This might seem mundane to you, but to me it’s an awakening.

Since Penelope was born I seem to have developed this low key superpower. I can do everyday things in a fraction of the time that they used to take me to accomplish. Like, getting ready in the morning? Pre-Penelope that was at least an hour long process, maybe an hour and a half if I shaved my legs and couldn’t quite decide on my outfit.

Now it’s wham-bam-thank-you-m’am I am outta here.

It makes me question my pre-parenting time management skills.

One of the things that comes with parenthood — in particular, with single parenthood — is that you pretty literally only have time for yourself when you’re taking a shit or asleep.

And that time is not a given. The number of times either my dog or my daughter have felt the need to sit on the floor in front of me while I pinch one of is infinite. (Also it’s super gross.)

I could write an entire dissertation on the topic of sleep. When you’re a parent of a young child that’s a fantasy, no matter what they tell you about sleep training and perfect bedtime windows and nighttime routines. IT’S A FUCKING LIE PEOPLE.

There is always a fake tummy ache that mysteriously goes away when you agree to turn the TV on for an hour. Or she wants more water and a snack. She needs a last story. She can’t sleep, can’t sleep, can’t sleep… let me sleep with you. No? Okay she’ll just crawl into your bed as soon as you drift off. Then it’s 3am and you wake up on the floor staring at the dust bunnies under the bed because the kid and the dog are taking up the entire king sized bed.

I started noticing this expedited time management mom superpower a year and 7 months ago. In 2022 I stopped working freelance and joined the company I currently write corporate mumbo-jumbo for. When I was working for myself, I moved through my day at a lackadaisical pace. Sure there were meetings I had to go to, but most of my workday was dictated by me and as long as I met deadline, not single person cared about when I was or was not online working.

At this place my calendar is so packed with meetings that I’m astounded at the mountain (like LITERAL mountain) of work that I manage to get done. Some days I cannot keep track of all the open project tickets I have and have (on occasion) gone into a meeting or started writing something that I thought was for one thing, yet it was for something completely different. The pace, shall we say, is hectic. Often there will be mere seconds, if even a minute, between the end of one meeting and the beginning of another meeting.

Do you know what I can do in 30 seconds?

I can get a cup of coffee, go to the bathroom (#1,) grab a snack, give the dog a treat so he stops barking, AND still be back at my desk to be the first one on the conference call. With time to spare, in which I text The Cheese Monster or play Tetris or Candy Crush while passively listening for other people to join the call.

This revelation of my crazy time management-multitasking ninja skill was, indeed, a big deal for me. As someone with multitudes of anxiety and depression and PTSD, sometimes I can spiral out of control and cannot do even one thing a day, let alone in a handful of minutes.

I have a couple of theories as to why I have this super speed. My first is the “you do X, so I must do Y.”

As in, Penelope takes FOREVER to get ready to do anything (getting her ready for school triggers an anger so deep in my soul it must be from a long forgotten ancestor to whom timeliness was next to Godliness.) Ergo, I must get ready at super speed if I hope to make it to work on time. I mean, I could just show up in PJs and with greasy hair, but how long would I really be employed if I did that consistently?

Not long.

My other theory is that when a parent is given a modicum of time or space to take care of a basic need for themselves (go to the bathroom, get caffeinated, clean themselves) that some mystic force actually slows time around them so that they can get what they need taken care of. Then as soon as they are done time speeds way the fuck back up. Maybe gets even faster. I dunno.

After my 15-minute shower and style today I’m leaning towards the latter as opposed to the former. Because it really felt like I took a long ass time in that shower. And I didn’t rush through drying and styling my hair… I took the time it takes.

It’s not just limited to in-between meetings and getting clean. This has happened in other areas of my life. Dog walking. Took Milton Noodles for the exact same walk as we always go on, at the exact same slow as a turtle pace. (That dog must sniff every literal thing.) It took 1/2 the time it normally does, felt like it took the entire time it normally does. Making a grilled cheese sandwich? Usually takes 10 minutes if you’re careful not to burn it. Took me a solid 5 minutes from bread and butter to golden toasty cheesy masterpiece. Felt like it took at least a half hour of me staring into space while I flipped the sandwich to ensure it didn’t burn.

Is this just me? Do any other parents have experiences like this? Whatever is responsible for this time shift or whatever it is, I am grateful. I need those little moments of standing at the sink staring into space as I unload and load the dishwasher that feel like a whole hour has passed, yet in reality it only took 20 minutes. A mom’s mind can only take so much stimuli before it breaks.

Between being a full time parent, full time dog parent, and full time employee my brain is often closer to the brink than one might expect given my overall perspicacity and somewhat calm and organized demeanor. Very often I feel like I know nothing about anything and my head is on fire.

So whoever is giving these tiny time warps to me…. bless you.

I hope other parents near the brink are getting them too.

©Kate Rice, 2023 — All rights reserved