Time's Not Soaring

I often find myself, at the end of the day, having run out of time. It never seems to soar for me. Just this incessant flapping and jerking back and forth over choppy skies. Is it me who fills my hours full of business and responsibility? I can blame my husband and the kids because they don't do what I want them to do so that I can do what I want to. Or I can, instead of completing the chores, stew until they come home from school then rant and rave and lose my mind because then there isn't enough time to finish all the things that I failed to do when I had the time and wasted it thinking about how I would make them all do it. Then they don't do it the way I want it done, the way I need it done, the way I obsess... And I still have to do them. And the more I stress, the less the children stress, and my husband will simply leave the room. So maybe one day, when the children are all grown and my husband is away on some fishing trip in the throws of his retirement I will feel the wind underneath me, pushing me up and over my stuff. And I'll find some extra time.