I'm in a hurry to get things done.

I rush and rush until life's no fun. That's a song by the country band Alabama and it's been playing in my head all day. When I take time to listen, I know there's a reason why that particular song is the background to my daily activities. I spend most of my time, every day, including Saturday and Sunday, being in a hurry.

I have been getting up earlier and earlier - 4:30 a.m., then 4:20, then 4:00, then 3:40. I look at the clock and immediately calculate how much time I have to drink 2 cups of coffee (and only 2). I feed the dogs, let them out, let them in, read for a while, eat breakfast, take medicine, shower, dress, put on make-up, pack a lunch, pack up my briefcase, check e-mail and go to work. Usually by 7. Sometimes earlier. I'm supposed to be there at 8. Why am I in such a hurry to get there?

I drive to work fast...too fast. Almost always 10 or more miles over the speed limit. I don't like to be passed, and I like to be in front...front of what, I wonder? Why must I rush and rush?

I open our office, make a pot of coffee, bring in the newspapers, post the day's events, make a cup of tea, start my iPod, and turn on my computer. I look at my e-mail and respond to each message as soon as it hits my inbox. Why, I wonder, must I be so fast? I look over the day's activities and calculate how to get through each meeting, deliver each training program, return each phone call, and write each curriculum (which I break down into a certain number of pages per day; as in "if I write 5 pages every day for a week, I should have half of it done by Friday"). Is someone holding me to a deadline, you ask? No, not really. Is my job dependent on getting everything done yesterday? Absolutely not. The motivation is buried deep in my crazy head.

It's no wonder I feel worn out at 5:00 p.m. But the day's activities aren't over. I drive home - again, too fast. As quickly as I can, I drop off my purse and briefcase and rush to take out my contacts and change into jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers so I can drive to the lake and walk the dogs. Rush, rush, rush.

Even the walk is hurried. I walk Amber so fast that I've had people comment that I walk faster than some people run. I think to myself, "No, that can't be true." Who am I kidding? My kids won't go for walks with me because they think I walk too fast. My husband says what I consider leisurely he considers a work out. I'm in a hurry to get things done! But why?

Tomorrow we're going to Kansas to spend the weekend with three delightfully curious boys. They'll spend the night with us in our hotel suite where we'll go swimming, decorate a haunted house, watch a movie, and eat snacks. This Grandma is going to take a lesson from her grandsons and slow down and enjoy the moment. I have much to learn from them! I don't want to be in such a hurry that I miss the wonder of discovering a giant pumpkin or a hairy caterpillar. It's time I found (and lived) new background music. Doesn't Mary Poppins sing "Go to Sleep?" Maybe that would do it...as long as I'm not driving!