Lately, my life has been a whirlwind. Any stolen moment to sit on my balcony and watch the changing colours in High Park or watch the light change now that we’re back on Standard Time is so important to me. It’s easy to get lost in the everyday toss and turn of life in Toronto. Recently, someone posted an article on one of my online communities that implored everyone to slow down and appreciate each other, especially when using public transit.

I’m guilty of being impatient. The fast pace of this city means that I’m always rushing. Five minutes extra here so I can get my bagel and tea in the morning; five minutes early so I’m not late for Professor at school, five minutes extra at lunchtime so I can run to the pet store and pick up cat food. Every five minutes seems so important and when I don’t get my extra minutes, I get cranky and extra-rushed. I may scowl a little, or honk the horn at someone crossing too slowly on the street. It’s not in my nature to be impatient, and I don’t like who it turns me into.

I especially don’t like how I get impatient with Professor and Piglet. Lately, instead of a smile when I pick up Professor, the first words out of my mouth are “hurry up”. We normally don’t have anywhere to get to – my mind is on traffic or my growling stomach (I’m often starving by the time I get Professor – almost as much as he is!), and I want to get back to the Ps so I can see Piglet and Mama P, and help with dinner and play with the kids a little. I hate our afternoon commute pretty much as much as Professor does. We do our best to sing along to songs on the way home, or play car games, but we both want to be out of the car and doing something less boring, so we’re both impatient at this time.

I’ve tried to stop telling Professor to hurry up, because I actually like the way he appreciates small moments. Like when I come upon him playing with action figures in a dollhouse, making up his own stories. Or when he tries to present me with a picture and I brush him aside (this happened once; I’m still guilty about it. I apologized when his face fell and accepted it with grace and enthusiasm, but the damage had been done. Ugh. The many cringing moments of a rushed nanny!). He tends to drag his feet when putting on his coat because he wants to show me something, or he wants to chat about his day. I’m guilty of cutting it short (because I find it excruciating when he puts his coat on arm by arm and then takes ten minutes to do it up), but today I decided to be a little less aware of the time and just enjoy him.

And we had a quiet, pleasant ride home. He chattered to me about everything, all of his own accord. The drive was quick – only 15 minutes instead of the 20-25 minute drive we experience at 6 pm in Toronto rush hour. And I reconnected with him – I feel like I’m back on the same page.

I have learned that little children aren’t aware of time. They don’t mind if we’re five minutes late getting home or if bathtime has to be cut a little short. I have learned that although I live a fast-paced life, I have to take a break and appreciate the small stuff, too.

I’m glad I have these little moments of reflection. Seeing things through a child’s eyes never fails to make me stop and think, too.