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The mad dash…to mindfulness Okay, so picture this: It is a gray Portland day, the clouds hanging like hammers over the heavy green arms of the trees. It is June. Can it really be June? I am pounding forward furiously (must move fast to keep the toddler interested), pushing the stroller with one hand, gabbing into my headset, shoving a Cliff bar into my mouth with the other hand that has the dog leash looped around the wrist. The 85 pound dog is pulling on my wrist so that every time the nutty edge of the bar hits my lips, it is yanked away. My toddler is writhing in the stroller, straining against the buckles and mumbling “outside, outside, outside” under his breath. I am listening to my teenaged son tell me about his finals through my headset while cursing the dog for every squirrel focused lunge. The drizzle coats my glasses and I can no longer even see the sidewalk in front of us. We live three blocks from the park. By the time we get there (and we must go at least once a day, rain or shine, or the wild toddler climbs the walls) I often feel harried and worn out. This time, this gem of a Northwest summer will never arrive afternoon, I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and and break into hysterical laughter. Look at me. I mean really, look at me. I am about as mindful as a Wall Street broker chasing the numbers. I am about as present as a kid in the fun house. So, I hang up the phone, tuck the gnawed Cliff bar back into the soggy wrapper, slow down the pace fifty notches and breath. The toddler settles. Of course. The dog still lunges but I am no longer so frustrated that I long to kick her like that guy last week kicking his black lab in the street while I stared from the window and secretly felt better than him (and mortified for the dog). Likely, I will find myself right back in this frenzy tomorrow. Here is my recipe for instant presence in the midst of daily chaos:   * Stop, breath and notice my body. When I am in the pace of the march of death towards the park, my shoulders are usually elevated, my breath is shallow (especially if I am talking on the phone AND eating at the same time) and my belly is tight.   * Ask myself what I am needing right in that moment. On the park charge day is was just a few minutes of down time. It had been a long day and we were all a little punchy. Knowing that my husband would be working late was causing me extra stress.   * Consider what might happen if I slow down. Usually the pace is fast when I feel I must get something done or when I am trying to stay one step ahead of my toddler’s next meltdown. Just noticing that If I don’t get that precious thing done that minute, I can come back to it later. And if my little guy has a fit, well, he might be needing to let off some steam anyway.   * Give myself some empathy. Right after the hysterical laughter were a few tears. I needed to give myself the love that no one else was offering in that moment. Savannah Mayfield http://www.mindfullymothering.com http://www.nurturelifecoaching.com http://www.mothersource.org/blog/item/114/