time whooooshing

Where does the time go?
WHOOOOOOOSH the week is over.
Today each hour was just about a minute long, and feel like I HAVE SO MUCH LEFT TO DO

I know I am not alone in feeling this way-- awake hours are short, unfettered hours are rare, this is a bonus day for daycare because I was going to be away at a workshop but my wrenched knee modified my plan
and
well, even though one could argue that this is all bonus time, apparently it was bonus time with an AGENDA in all caps, and I did not/could not/am not fulfilling my own expectations.

PHEW. What a lot of pressure.

Della is growing so fast I feel dizzy with it. The grasping of me of time wishing things would slow down so I can remember how she looks and acts right this moment...this moment. This one. This one where she wakes in the middle of the night to announce that there are no horses in the house, but we do have a zebra, John, but there are no tigers.  Or that Vika pushed her in the mud. Or that she likes Shout on Fresh Beats.

I want to remember that she thinks the airplane was a skybus
that she says pider for spider, and ornage for orange, and tickle tickle little tar...
she says clappa hands instead of clap your hands (clappa hands, clappa knees, clappa floor, hot cross buns)
and that she shrugs, so expressively, raises one eyebrow, talks with so many "adult" gestures...
and that she is amazing.
Amazing.
Amazing.

I want to remember to breathe her in. To pay attention, and not just move from one logistical thang to the next.  Dinner, dishes, toothbrushing, bed. I don't want there to be serial battles of diapers and pjs and clothes for school and shoes and coat and then the day is over and we begin again with dinner, dishes, toothbrushing, bed.
I want to lie on the grass with her
this person who, I am beginning to realize, may never actually lie on the grass (too much stillness, too many bugs)
I want to lie on the grass with her and look at the sky, and make elephants out of clouds
and talk about John the zebra
and Vika and mud, and
have her tell me what she is thinking, whatever it is, because I feel so incredibly taken in by her voice, and seduced by the secret garden that is this child's imagination.
I just want more.

I hope we'll fly kites and play in the sand and laugh a lot
and not just spend the warmer months in transit or knee deep in logistics of laundry, making lunch and coordinating schedules.

I want ease, I want to allow it, make space for it, hold the space for it, honor ease the way I have historically worshipped "busy" and "productive".
Can you imagine anything more important than being here, truly Being Here Now?

I know this to be my truth, and yet I work in opposition.  I keep cultivating the busy, the rush, the intensity of overfilledness, overexpectation.
I wonder when will I give myself permission (and learn to sustain it) to be as I know I want to be?
BEING, not DOING
More being.
More breathing.
More seeing elephants in the clouds.