“These days everyone is so busy. Driving here and there and always out and busy, busy, busy. I don’t see my grandchildren until Christmas. Then when they come they have their phones and they are doing something like Facepage, I don’t even know what it is, but it must be very interesting for sure!” Amai Dzumbunhu (74) laughs and shakes her head. “Ah…this youth…too busy to remember. “ Her voice trails off, nostalgically.
We are all guilty of being too busy to remember. One evening, not long ago, I had just come in from a long day at the office. It was dark, and the only light in the house came from the unnatural flicker of the TV, as it flashed eerily onto the zombie-like faces of my family, sprawled on the sofa, watching whatever programme was on. The supper was half finished in the kitchen, the table not laid. No one even noticed me come in.
I probably should have counted to ten. Backwards. Or at least walked into another room and slammed a door. But instead, I flicked the light switch, and I lost it!
“Switch that TV off RIGHT NOW. Have you done your homework? What is all this MESS lying in the doorway? Has anyone thought to put on any outside lights, or close any curtains? Why isn’t the table laid? I’ve been hard at work, all day, and I walk through the door, exhausted, and not a single one of you can be bothered to say hello! I am SICK of this. I am TIRED of being the only one who ever does ANYTHING around here. I am FED UP with talking to the WALLS….”
And on and on and on I ranted.
The TV went off in a flash. School bags and random socks and empty cereal bowls disappeared magically. The dinner table laid itself in a flash. Windows and curtains were closed by nervous former zombies, dinner was suddenly on the go and a sheepish cup of tea appeared in front of me. Supper was eaten in silence, and the former zombies vanished quickly to their rooms.
It was a few days before my son gathered up the courage to say something that brought me up short.
“You know, mum, you start shouting when you wake me up and you’re still shouting when I go to bed. ”
He was absolutely right. And I was absolutely wrong.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that as a parent it’s easy to get caught up in the daily business of being busy. We’re all busy. We’re tired and stressed and our tempers are frayed. So we snap and take it out on those closest to us – our family. And the very definition of family is slowly destroyed by the business of being too busy to remember. We are so busy shouting, we can’t listen.
Family is important! It’s where children learn their value system, it’s where they form their perception of the world. If their mum is shouting from dawn to dusk, and always in a hurry, that’s how they start to see the world. The stress they see is what they expect to find out there. And they don’t need to look very far to find it!
We need to slow things down. Stop shouting, spend more time listening, find moments in the day to just be in the moment with the people we love the most. We need to remember.
My shouting to listening ratio is still a big work in progress. But every time I find myself about to snap “Hurry up!” I make a conscious effort to stop myself. Instead, I take time to see those little fingers taking forever to clumsily tie their shoelaces. I don’t shout when little warm bodies climb into our bed when they really ought to be getting dressed for school. “Just 5 more minutes, please mum!” It’s only 5 minutes! One day very soon those little warm bodies will have grown up and moved away. One day those little warm bodies will be caught up in the daily business of being busy. And I, like Amai Dzumbunhu, I will have time to remember. What do I want to remember?
Savour those stolen moments. Slow down, stop shouting. Stop hurrying. I urge you to try it, even if just for a day. Set yourself this challenge. Every time you feel that urge to hurry things up, ask yourself one thing. What do I want to remember?