I am not a patient person. No matter how fast broadband becomes it will never be quicker than turning a page in a magazine or book, and even then, that can be too slow. Projects get started and then I get excited about the next, then the next, turning what I'm doing into a chore. My relationship with my smartphone is tempestuous and unforgiving -accessible, yet demanding, ever present, but not quite close enough to the information I wanted to have an hour ago.
And this is not good. It means I stop enjoying the hand crafted projects I undertake as they become to-do-list items to be finished. My success has become self-measured my the 'amount' I get done, as if quantity of 'things' said, written or produced validate me. This is particularly true since as of this week I am the most occupied unemployed person I know. I catch myself sat on the floor with my children making mental lists of the things I could do, or say, instead of doing or saying things to the two people who are present at that moment, not the imagined possibilities of a day that hasn't arrived yet.
Slowing down is next on my list. Not the laundry, or the cleaning, that can still be blitzed out of the way. But the space that's left for the things that are mine, theirs, ours, should be taken slowly. Harriet will not learn to crawl while I write a blog post or update Facebook. She needs my help. Sam will not suddenly wipe his own bum with the required precision whilst I am scribbling notes to myself on the back of an envelope. The blankets and creatures I make will not have the perfect finish I want to achieve if all the while I'm mentally engaged in an affair with the next ball of wool.
So if you see me a little less regularly, it's because I've put the brakes on, just a smidge. What comes next will be better I'm sure...But I might need a little help.x