Time Keeps on Slipping, Slipping...

How can it be Wednesday evening? I'm positive that the week just started....

They say that when you have kids, and particularly when those kids get into school, time begins to accelerate. In fact, if I had a shiny loonie for every time I've been told "enjoy them while you can; they'll be gone and grown up before you know it," I wouldn't get that little pit in my stomach every time I think about not investing in my 401k.

I'd tend to agree, but mostly because I think the dreadful energy-suckingness of the infant years actually has the power to slow time, so those days that feel like they're 48 hours long - well, they really are. Now that my kids are older and it's not such a struggle, Time has resumed its standard, "where on earth has the time gone" pace.

There seems to be a general sense that this acceleration is a bad thing. People moan that they've fallen into "a rut" because the sameness of their lives causes them to measure life not by days or weeks but by seasons or years. They admonish one another to slow down, to stop and smell the roses.

Truth be told, I can't say that I mind forgetting to smell the roses now and again. There's a lot to be said for routine, for monotony, for the mundane.

(I think this is a fairly frequent theme on this blog. What can I say - I'm a creature of habit.)

I recognize that I gravitate towards stability more than some do. I feel no compulsion to experience all life has to offer and I never fear that I might miss out on something, having already made my peace with the fact that of course I will. Novelty stresses me out and new opportunities are usually anxiety in disguise.

It does not escape me, of course, that my quest for sameness likely arises from the past few years during which I have experienced tremendous instability. When I was filling out my forms for my current job, I realized I've had seven addresses in as many years. I went from happily married to unhappily almost-not-married and back again. I traded in my SAHM outfit for a working girl's suit. Once there, I switched careers, but not before attempting to do two at the same time.

I look at people who have lived in the same house for longer than five years with a good deal of jealousy. Other parents whose children have been at the same school for longer than one year cause me to break the tenth commandment frequently. People who complain about "same old, same old" raise my ire - they seem oblivious to the fact that their boring life is more likely to be turned upside down by a tragedy than by the Publisher's Clearinghouse people at the door.

Bring on the rut, I say! It means that life is stable enough that you can stop worrying about the next minute, the next hour, the next day. Would that we all had that kind of safety.