Not.

I.
It’s the most wonderful day of the year. The day I look forward to, the day which, whenever it crosses my mind, causes me to smile and sigh dreamily. I have been known to break out into a happy dance during the week leading up to it.

I am speaking, of course, of the day that daylight savings time ends.
Fall Back.
Oh, the very sound of that name! Fall Back. Doesn’t it make you want to collapse rapturously into a fluffy pile of leaves?

A Whole! Extra! Hour!

The possibility casts a rosy glow over the entire day. Want to lounge in bed later, but have a lot to do? Fear not! Want to stay a little later at the party? No problem! Feeling tired but managed to stay up too late again? Grey skies are gonna clear up, girlfriend! Remember, you get that extra hour! A gracious gift of the one commodity that always seems in shortest supply.

Of course we will not speak of that evil Saturday in the spring, that blackest of black holes that throws one’s schedule into bleak disarray for days afterward.

II.
This pregnancy has been remarkably similar to the last one, with one exception—a spectacular case of (thankfully) intermittent sciatica. Look it up if you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about.

A few different things can aggravate it, one being walking too fast. Several times at the church last week I have rushed from one thing to the next—not even stressed, dear reader, just bustling! busy! ebullient! efficient!—and I would feel a quick burst of nerve pain down one leg, causing it to buckle ever so slightly. It is an instant signal—You’re going too fast. You need to slow down. I decelerate to a stroll and all is fine.

I am told that they make contraptions that can be affixed to cars or trucks that limit their maximum speed. Speed governors or speed limiters, they’re called. So it would seem that I have my own speed governor, and it’s my right butt cheek.

III.
The three-foot-tall Zen master in my house never ceases to amaze me. You know what really doesn’t work with a three-foot-tall Zen master?

C’mon, it’s time to go to fun activity. Put down random object that isn’t nearly as much fun as fun activity will be and let’s go! You know, the longer you spend messing around with random object the longer it will take to get to fun activity and the less time we’ll have when we get there. Really, C, that fuzz on the floor which has now replaced random object as her focus is not nearly as fun as fun activity. You’re missing fun activity! Let’s go! Now! Let’s go!

Yeah, that doesn’t work. You know why? Because whatever is happening in the moment is already a gracious plenty of fun for her. My toddler daughter has managed to cultivate mindfulness. Sadly, I find it hard to be mindful. My mind is too full.