Time...

...keeps on ticking. It ticks away at a regular pace. Sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, twenty four hours in a day, 365 days in a year. How organised. So one would be forgiven for thinking time is the great constant. Rock solid certainty amid the chaos that is life. Not in my world.
To me, time trots along with all the grace of a fifteen year old bunny hopping Mum's Corolla out the driveway and halfway down the road, before stalling, restarting, then dropping the clutch to the sounds of whiplash induced shrieking and skidding tyres. Are you with me here? Is it just me?
I'll try to elaborate further by pointing out some poignant examples of time and it's erratic pace in my life, the way it speeds up and slows down. The way it seems to disappear while I'm not looking.




Lead up to Christmas as a Child-

The anticipation was excruciating. It felt like sixty five million years had elapsed by the time I opened that last advent calendar window. And trying to get to sleep in time for Santa? Impossible.

Lead up to Christmas as an Adult-

As is my nature I pack in so much baking, crafting and Bing Crosby, it now feels like I've been allowed just sixty five minutes between December 1 and December 25 in which to get it all done. In fact, I'm fairly sure I could feel the wind blowing through my hair this December just gone, such was the speed at which time seemed to be travelling.

Grocery Shopping Night as a Child-

In a time before Nintendo had invented the Gameboy, it was legal to leave children in hot cars for hours on end. That's right, without Gameboys. Unthinkable.
I'd sit on the hot vinyl seat with sweat dripping into my eyes, not a scrap of anything to keep me entertained, while my parents wandered the supermarket aisles relishing the peace and fluorescent lighting. It was in this back seat captivity the fighting between my younger brother and I was at it's most intense. Time. Went. S.l.o.w.l.y.

Crying Newborn as a New Mother-

I recall one particular experience vividly. I sat with a screaming, inconsolable baby boy in my arms, totally exhausted and clueless with tears streaming down my own miserable face after my first full day flying solo at home with him. I watched the clock. Tick, tick, tick, awaiting his father's arrival home from work. Time went more slowly than when I was six and waiting for Santa. Torture.

Delivering my Baby Boy to School on his First Day-

Was it not just yesterday I was discussing his feeding times? Taking him for health centre check ups? It's like I went to sleep then woke up with five years of my life gone. Puff! He'll be off to university in a minute. I'm sure of it.



I've been at this buntyandsars thing for about four years now, too. It's place in my world has ebbed and flowed around those chunky things which fill up the most space. Raising kids, running a house. I can only guess at how many hours have been frittered away washing and folding clothes, or wiping spilled food and other substances off the floor. It would be many.
But time is giving me a few more windows and I intend to fill them with good stuff. Changes are afoot with some exciting stuff happening in the background. I'm even drawing for the sake of drawing lately, and slightly loving it. Which is why I'm not going to type anymore just now, my fingers are itchy and I have a new set of watercolours taunting me with their beauty.
If you're a buntyandsars Facebook liker, I might even be so kind as to share the results.