It feels like an eternity. We are late getting to the bus stop, and the automatic gate at the end of our drive is taking its sweet time opening, as usual. I swear, it takes at least 10 SECONDS to open. I’m tapping the steering wheel and muttering, “Come ON!”

Then, of course, trying to turn right onto the busy highway in front of our house is a nightmare. I have to wait for at least 12 CARS – a whole other minute down the tubes.

I finally peel out, gravel flying behind me, and speed towards the bus stop, watching the minutes on my car clock tick away. 8:15. My heart sinks. I pull up just as the bus is pulling away. I try to follow it, but get stopped at the red light. We’ve missed it. And, of course, I’m due at a vet appointment at the exact same time school starts.

Many days, I’m living in the gap. This isn’t a good thing.

“The Gap” is an imaginary space in my head that separates me from the cliff of insanity. It includes time, organization, and emotional space.

Picture me on a very tall bluff. The bluff represents my life: 5 kids, a farm, a marriage, friends, gym, horse training and health, volunteerism, fledging writing hobby, for starters. At the edge of this bluff is the abyss. The cliff represents the place where, if I go a bit too far, I fall off into oblivion. Temporary insanity. Losing my shit. Yelling at the kids and threatening to run away.

In order to function in a healthy way, I need a nice big space that separates me from the edge of the cliff. I need wiggle room. I have to have some area where, if I make a mistake or misjudge time, I won’t fall off the precipice. I am not the most organized person in the world, but often, I have weeks where I am completely DISorganized. I’m skipping along in my happy little world of nature and flowers and ponies and allowing the responsibilities and commitments pile up behind the woodshed. If I can’t see them, they don’t exist, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, being 3 minutes late to the bus stop is a symptom of a bigger problem. I’m living well into The Gap, the space between me and mommy-insanity. I’m inching further into it and closer to the edge. One wrong move and I’m tumbling over, and probably taking a couple of people with me (in this case, a kiddo who was upset about the stressful energy in the car).

When I find that I’m in this place, it’s time to take a deep breath and evaluate where I can make some changes. Generally, implementing a few of these simple rules will allow me to take a big breath and a giant step away from the edge.

1. Writing everything down in a central place – don’t count on myself to remember everything. Field trip money, late start at school on Thursday, picking up horse feed…write it all down.
2. Scheduling times in my calendar to do these things. Listen, I am a free spirit – I abhor scheduling. I would like to believe that the magic of the universe will wave its wand over my head and I will call the pediatrician for the sport’s physical without even knowing it. I’ve tried this method. Take it from me, this isn’t going to happen. Apparently the Universe hates me. I’ve got to make a date with myself to accomplish tasks.
3. “Do the things you gotta do so you can do what you wanna do.” –Denzel Washington. Besides being a total hunk, that Denzel is a pretty brilliant guy. I tend to prioritize fun. In fact, I’m sitting here writing this article while I should be making lunches; therefore, we will probably be late for the bus again. Sometimes, taking a few minutes to perform that menial task will leave a ton of time and mental energy to do the fun stuff later. AND, I’ll be able to do it guilt-free.
4. Don’t multitask. This is really hard for me. I’m always trying to do 12 things at once (did I mention I’m making eggs and checking Facebook while writing this article? Kidding. Well, not about the Facebook part). When I put my whole attention on the task at hand, I can generally accomplish it in 1/10 of the time it would have taken had I been trying to multitask.
5. Be in the Moment. Don’t you hate this phrase? I’m sick of it. But really, it is so true. This moment is IT. I don’t get to repeat it. Whether I’m chatting with a kiddo or feeding the chickens or working out, I need to be all there and give it my full attention. Then, when that moment is finished, I can leave it feeling good about the effort I put into it.

Now excuse me, I’ve gotta go – the eggs are burning and I just saw the bus drive by.