This is the kind of shit that can only happen to me
Mike bought me a beautiful watch for my birthday. It's a Bulova with 16 diamonds (my birthday is the 16th of February). I love it. I wear it every day. I just don't use it.
When we moved to Hawaii, I got pregnant within a few weeks. I never held a job while we lived there. I lived on Hawaiian time which requires no watch. It's a laid back, I'll get there when I can kind of living. I threw my watch away and didn't miss it for a minute.
Now we're back on the mainland where the kids have to be involved in a minimum of two activities or they'll never get into to preschool, let alone a good college. People live by time, checking their watches throughout the day and running around like a people living on their last few moments. It's nuts.
And I've fallen right into it.
So I have this watch, right. And I don't use it. Mike asked me yesterday if I was liking my watch and I fessed up that I really haven't even used it, although I wear it daily. I have even gone so far as opening my cell phone to check the time before remembering that I have my gorgeous watch on my wrist. I live off of surrounding clocks and I run around like a person living on her last moments.
He wisely suggested that I try to remember to check my watch and that perhaps I would find myself running on schedule. And so, I tried.
I put my watch on post shower as usual. But this time, I looked at the time, and each time I went to do something else like clean baby poop off the carpet or remove mud from Truman's mouth (yes, he's taken to eating mud now instead of $80 video games, thank god!), I would check my watch.
It's the most amazing thing, people. A watch. A clock readily available to tell me what time it is. And the most amazing and truly liberating thing happened. I was not just on time, I was early. As I herded up the youngin's and got them out the door, I happily looked down at my watch and saw that I was about 3 minutes ahead of my usual time to leave. This meant that I could actually do the speed limit and I wouldn't have to scream at my children to click themselves into their seats faster and I could actually stop at stop signs instead of just rolling through them. I was over the moon.
Then I started the engine and out of habit checked the clock on the stereo. It read 9:58. Roman's swimming lessons started at 10AM. I shook my head and looked again, just in case, you know, I had a screw loose or something that made me see 9:58 when in reality it was really 9:42 as my watch so lovingly told me. Sadly, I when I looked up the damn clock read 9:59. I looked down at my watch and I swear I saw it smiling at me, smiling a beautiful yet deceiving 9:42. Wicked, wicked watch.
Refusing to believe it, however, I ran back inside (not just to check the watch, mind you, but because I also forgot to pack Roman's towel). All the fucking clocks now read 10:00, on the nose. I sprinted into the van, screaming at the kids to buckle up, popped that puppy into gear, and sped away doing well over the speed limit and rolling through stop signs. We made it to his lesson in five minutes, including the race from the parking lot, through the recreation center and the steamy locker room, into the pool area in, carrying the baby in her carseat, the swimming bag, the diaper bag, the towel, and a partridge in a pear tree.
It would have made a delightful story to share with the other Tuesday/Thursday swimming moms, but, unfortunately for me, they're all bitches. So I just sat mumbling to myself and giggling. They probably think I'm suffering from delusions... delusions of punctuality.
But still, it's a really pretty watch.
When we moved to Hawaii, I got pregnant within a few weeks. I never held a job while we lived there. I lived on Hawaiian time which requires no watch. It's a laid back, I'll get there when I can kind of living. I threw my watch away and didn't miss it for a minute.
Now we're back on the mainland where the kids have to be involved in a minimum of two activities or they'll never get into to preschool, let alone a good college. People live by time, checking their watches throughout the day and running around like a people living on their last few moments. It's nuts.
And I've fallen right into it.
So I have this watch, right. And I don't use it. Mike asked me yesterday if I was liking my watch and I fessed up that I really haven't even used it, although I wear it daily. I have even gone so far as opening my cell phone to check the time before remembering that I have my gorgeous watch on my wrist. I live off of surrounding clocks and I run around like a person living on her last moments.
He wisely suggested that I try to remember to check my watch and that perhaps I would find myself running on schedule. And so, I tried.
I put my watch on post shower as usual. But this time, I looked at the time, and each time I went to do something else like clean baby poop off the carpet or remove mud from Truman's mouth (yes, he's taken to eating mud now instead of $80 video games, thank god!), I would check my watch.
It's the most amazing thing, people. A watch. A clock readily available to tell me what time it is. And the most amazing and truly liberating thing happened. I was not just on time, I was early. As I herded up the youngin's and got them out the door, I happily looked down at my watch and saw that I was about 3 minutes ahead of my usual time to leave. This meant that I could actually do the speed limit and I wouldn't have to scream at my children to click themselves into their seats faster and I could actually stop at stop signs instead of just rolling through them. I was over the moon.
Then I started the engine and out of habit checked the clock on the stereo. It read 9:58. Roman's swimming lessons started at 10AM. I shook my head and looked again, just in case, you know, I had a screw loose or something that made me see 9:58 when in reality it was really 9:42 as my watch so lovingly told me. Sadly, I when I looked up the damn clock read 9:59. I looked down at my watch and I swear I saw it smiling at me, smiling a beautiful yet deceiving 9:42. Wicked, wicked watch.
Refusing to believe it, however, I ran back inside (not just to check the watch, mind you, but because I also forgot to pack Roman's towel). All the fucking clocks now read 10:00, on the nose. I sprinted into the van, screaming at the kids to buckle up, popped that puppy into gear, and sped away doing well over the speed limit and rolling through stop signs. We made it to his lesson in five minutes, including the race from the parking lot, through the recreation center and the steamy locker room, into the pool area in, carrying the baby in her carseat, the swimming bag, the diaper bag, the towel, and a partridge in a pear tree.
It would have made a delightful story to share with the other Tuesday/Thursday swimming moms, but, unfortunately for me, they're all bitches. So I just sat mumbling to myself and giggling. They probably think I'm suffering from delusions... delusions of punctuality.
But still, it's a really pretty watch.
posted by The Histrionics of a Fat Housewife at 3:53 PM
2 Comments:
It sounds like my mother's Rolex which only runs correctly when she has it on her wrist. And yet, as costly as the watch was, it's meant to work that way. If you keep taking it off, the time will continue to get screwed up. You should probably just wear it for show and keep checking your phone for the right time!
I can't wear watches-they stop on me for some reason.
I'm always early. It's annoying, since no one else is ever on time, let alone early.
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