I am the worst offender of trying to
fit in more tasks in one daypart than humanly possible. Have an extra forty-five minutes on my
hands? I’m going to make it to Costco
for household items, fill up the car with gas, and deposit that check at the
bank I’ve been carrying around for 2 weeks.
Four hours to myself while the kids are at school? I can do a 45-minute workout, make a new
music playlist, do the laundry, work a few hours for my job, and sew on the
button that fell off of my new pants, all with 5 minutes to spare before
pickup. When I used to work full-time, I
used to pride myself on how much stuff I could get done in short periods of
time. It’s called efficiency and I
thrive on it.
I find, though, that the more
efficiently I function now as a stay-at-home mom, the more opportunities I
miss. The more stuff I'm able to
accomplish, the less I'm able to enjoy, because I'm constantly running so
fast. Who cares that I got the garage cleaned and the flowers watered
before pick-up time, when it was at the expense of turning down an invitation
for coffee with a friend? So what that I
finished the online preschool applications before the rest of the neighborhood,
when I traded in an hour of my actual preschooler “reading” to me? No one gave me a high five because I finished
the weekly shopping and cleaned the house in the time that I could have rested
my body and soul with an afternoon catnap in the sun after reading a few
chapters of a juicy book. I feel like as
a society, we have a tendency these days to go so fast and furious that we
often times don’t even know what we’re doing, must less why we’re performing it
so quickly. Our priorities get lost and
our time gets sucked away. We miss the
little things: the rainbow after a downpour,
the new puppy pawing at your ankle, and the fact that the neighbor who you see
every day is somehow now six months pregnant without you having ever noticed!
As parents, we can’t help but
struggle with prioritizing our time, as we’re pulled in many different
directions, which is simply the nature of the job. How often do we think about the ramifications
of our decisions on priorities, though?
Not often enough. While it may
not seem like a big deal that you’re texting a friend or emailing a client
while your child is telling you about his day, all in the name of
multi-tasking, it actually registers loud and clear. It’s great that you’ve spent a full year
obsessively decorating your house to perfection, but does it really matter if
you have no friends to come enjoy it with you because you’ve blown them off for
twelve months? The kids most certainly
don’t give a shit about the final living room arrangement, but they definitely
learned to realize in that year that its importance trumps time spent with them
while you were out shopping for that last perfect piece to pull the room
together.
It’s bad enough that some of us have
an unnatural need to fill every spare minute with a productive activity. It’s even worse when we apply that need to
our children’s lives. I’m all for
learning the value of the whole with a team sport, practicing the discipline
required to learn to play an instrument, or whatever interest your child may
pursue. But there’s such a thing as too
much of a good thing. By running them
from soccer to gymnastics to chess club to violin lessons and then through the
drive-through before evening homework, we’re setting them up for never properly
developing the art of experiencing life as it comes to them. Heck, they can’t even see life coming at them
as they’re moving so fast! You may have
conversations while you cart them around, but everyone’s attention is split
with at least one other thing, like driving or preparing for the next
activity. Missed is the opportunity to
discuss today’s science experiment with their friend or teacher on the corner
on their way home from school, because we’re rushing them home for a snack
before baseball. Gone are the days of
playing outside all day, using creativity to keep themselves occupied, and
collecting and studying lightning bugs after dusk. There’s no time for any of that. We’re too busy getting to Little Gym and
Drama Club. We’re caught up in cutting
people off when they talk to us because we don’t have time to listen. We’ve got to be somewhere, dammit! It takes more than one hand of fingers for me
to count how many times I’ve actually broken into a run in the last week alone
on the way to pick someone up, drop someone off, or get myself somewhere.
It’s funny because my kids have
never displayed the want to constantly run at warped speed to places and
things. They’d much prefer hanging out
at home, playing outside drawing on the sidewalks and scootering to the
neighbor kid’s house to say hello. I
always promised myself I would let my children’s personalities dictate the pace
of their activities. I started off
strong when my eldest was small. I favored
talking a walk around the neighborhood to see the turtles pop their heads up
from the lake to the organized Wiggle Worms kids’ music classes. I didn’t fall prey to the 3-year-old cheer
program, but instead opted for building things out of pots and pans on the
kitchen floor. Somehow I fell off the
wagon, though, as my family got larger, my kids older, and my time less my
own. I guess subconsciously I started to
reclaim time for myself by booking up my kids’ time. It started small with a park district cIass
here and a Preschool hour there. I’d
then book my new-found hour with other tasks and priorities instead of just
enjoying the peace and quiet. It kept
growing until I found myself this last semester completely unable to keep up
with just the weekly schedule of my kids’ activities, coupled with my own. Between leading talent show practices,
morning workouts, and moms’ night out, I fit in dinner parties, date-nights,
writing every day, and a part-time job.
While I love all of those things, combined it was completely insane and
counterproductive, because I started resenting, instead of enjoying, each
normally fun activity. I was not only
overbooking my own time with activities that weren’t the highest priorities in
our lives, but also overbooking my kids’ time with activities.
For a kid whose favorite thing in
the world to do is relax and read a book without a single plan on the horizon,
I sent my eldest daughter over the edge with weekly piano lessons, tennis
lessons, Brownies, and twice-weekly dance practice. I had booked her for so many activities that
I had to hire a babysitter to watch my toddler so as to get her to the places
she need to go. Half-way through the
semester, a twice-weekly running program started at school that she wanted to
participate in as well, so I encouraged her to join that too. Pretty soon she was overscheduled beyond
comprehension, with at least one activity every day after school and more times
than not, a social or family obligation over the weekend. She had no downtime, no time to play, and
rarely a moment to reflect. She revolted
by being cranky and snarky in the mornings, taking twice as long on homework
after school, and asking if it was okay to turn down birthday party
invitations. She squawked at any mention
of a family activity outside the home on the weekends and started a habit of
crying when I spent time with both girls, complaining that she never got any
alone time with her moms.
The mountain of obligation I had
created for my family became crystal clear over Spring Break. We traveled to Lake Geneva with another
family, where we spent five days in an unoccupied home on the lake, with not a
single activity planned. My family
unwound by rolling in the grass, reading books in front of the fireplace, walking the trails around the lake, and
playing long games of hacky sack. The
laid-back friends we vacationed with brought with them two pairs of binoculars,
and the girls took turns watching birds and learning to recognize the different
types. My girls thrived in the relaxing
environment where they were able to just exist and unhurriedly experience
whatever came their way. They were
happier than I remember seeing them in ages.
Months later they still talk about the bugs they saw in Wisconsin, the
horse named Maddie they petted in the town square, and at least every other day
they excitedly poke me or whisper to me to check out the female robin they just
spotted.
Once again, I have vowed to follow
the natural pace of my own children when it comes to scheduling and
activities. We’ve almost finished our
obligations for the school year, and we’re reveling in playing at the park
after school and taking random bike rides and walks around the neighborhood
just because, not to actually get anywhere.
I’m still me, so I torture myself daily with considering booking a free
hour with a playdate or an organized trip to a destination, but the good news
is it usually doesn’t get past the consideration phase as I reel myself back in
and try to surround myself with other like-minded parents that keep me in check. For now it seems to be working, as when I
asked my eldest daughter about her Best Part and Worst Part of last weekend,
she said her Best Part was having the whole weekend to relax without having to
do anything specific and she said she actually didn’t have a Worst Part. Score.
My kids’ utter enjoyment and
amazement at the little things they encounter every day by just paying
attention has started to rub off on me too.
When confronted with a workday that ended short this week, instead of
packing in the usual tasks I could accomplish in two hours time, I opted for
reading a newspaper in the back yard in the sun and instead of practicing the kickbox
routine for the class I teach once a week, I took a three-hour walk through my
old neighborhood, stopping to talk to people and see things. The sky didn't fall because the laundry piled
up, my kids didn't suffer because we had to eat out one night instead of cook,
and no one even noticed that the floor has accumulated dust. What they did noticed was that their mom
asked them more questions about their day at school and let them choose and
make their own dinner. They noticed that
piano lesson was forgotten, skipped, and not remembered until the following
week, when they rolled on the floor and laughed in hysterics at the pace of
their lives. They noticed that they can
breathe easier when their parents can breathe easier.
Once again I run up against the
misnomer I’ve followed for years that I’m here to teach my kids lessons. My kids teach me more every single day than I
could teach them in a lifetime! Most
kids are born with a curiosity for those things around them….nature, people,
and things built by man. Instinctively
they know when to take time to enjoy the view.
Follow their lead and listen to you own natural instinct to take a
minute to enjoy the powerful scent of the rose.
The office, the clients, the writing, the projects, the exercising, the
housecleaning, and the chores aren’t going anywhere…they’ll be right there
waiting for you, none the wiser. Odds
are, you’ll be better able to accommodate their demands if you take a minute
for yourself to appreciate the little things beforehand.
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