4

The Hurry Up Guy

Becoming a parent has brought me love.

Becoming a parent has brought joy.

Becoming a parent has brought me a little “Hurry Up Guy” who sits on my shoulder and screams in my ear ALL THE TIME.

He sounds like this:

Hurry up!
We have to go!
Vamanos!
Let’s get a move on!
We’re late! We’re late! We’re late!
Fall in line!
Let’s go!
What’s taking you so long!
You need to make haste!
Why are you moving SO SLOooooooow?!
You have 5 minutes to get there before you are LATE!
Late!
You’ll be late!
Late, late, late!!
Come on! Go!
Move it!
We have to be somewhere!
CAN’T YOU GO ANY FASTER?!

It makes me crazy. Bat. Shit. Crazy.

That damn Hurry Up Guy makes my heart pound and my blood pressure rise…and not in a good way. More like in an annoying, oh-my-God-I’ve-got-to-go-faster-and-faster-and-faster-I’m-going-so-fast-I’m-probably-burning-tons-of-calories, kind of way. He makes me sweat and freak out and scream at everyone around me to hurry the hell up!

Why don’t my kids have the Hurry Up Guy on their shoulders? They’re the ones who need him. They need someone (besides me) to scream at them to get off the couch and to get in the damn car so that we aren’t late for school AGAIN. They need someone to light a fire under their butts. They need to be the ones who wildly shriek the words, “Let’s go everyone! Hurry!!”

I didn’t even know the Hurry Up Guy was part of the package when I kids. I had no idea. No one told me. Sure, I’m somewhat familiar with the little fella. I’ve had him perched on my shoulder at other times in my life. But he usually just stays for a quick visit; just for an event that I need to get to. Then he skedaddles. But now the Hurry Up Guy is like a house guest that just WON’T LEAVE! He is ALWAYS there.

The real kicker is that he screams in my ear even when I don’t need to be hurrying. Like, sometimes I have nowhere I NEED to be, but still the little guy is screaming “hurry up!!” I try to take a deep breath and remember that I don’t have to be hurrying right now. I don’t need to be in fast motion. Or do I? I’m so used to spinning around like the Tasmanian Devil that slowing down usually just means that I’m forgetting something. At least that is what the Hurry Up Guy tells me it means. He’s sort of a jerk that way.

I want the Hurry Up Guy to go on a vacation. Or take a long walk off a short pier. Or to go pound sand.

I want the Simon & Garfunkel guy on my shoulder instead.

I want the Slow Down You Move Too Fast guy.

The I Got No Deeds To Do, No Promises To Keep guy.

I’m Dappled and Drowsy and Ready to Sleep guy.

I want to let the morning time drop all its petals on me.

Life, I love you, all is groovy.

Because, seriously, life is WAY too groovy to just be hurrying through it from one thing to the next. With a weird little guy sitting on your shoulder.

See ya later, Hurry Up Guy! I’m going to go watch some flowers growing.

Doot-in’ doo-doo,
Feelin’ groovy.