It’s OK to Slow Down

It was one of those days: deadlines looming, texts pinging my phone, emails piling up, a million must-dos around the house, and that little voice in the back of my head whispering, “Don’t forget X. Have you figured out Y? When can you fit in Z?”—that non-stop soundtrack of moms as we work through our daily routines and juggle our roles and tasks. And of course, the constant whirr of a four-and-a-half-year-old who seems to consume energy for breakfast and, no matter how hard he runs, whose battery pack is never depleted.

Note: That paragraph lists my Little last. Why? Because many days, I feel that way. Other musts and needs keep me from him. Of course he is my priority, but the reality of life swoops in, and he gets bumped. He shouldn’t hear “just a minute, honey” because I’m answering a text or an email, or “let me wrap this up” while I’m working on a deadline, but they are phrases he knows well.

She who dies with the most text messages does not win. Deadlines don’t have to rule the world. There’s no prize for an empty inbox, a clean house, or the perfect dinner. But there’s only so long with a little who thinks the sun rises and sets because of Mommy, his amazing mommy who knows everything.

That treasure gets buried in the day-to-day detritus of life. You juggle, plan, and schedule. You forgo sleep to fit in one more thing. You think that as you juggle, you’ll manage to fit in fill-in-the-blank: a trip to the park, story time at the library, some crafty project that doubles as both a reading and math lesson while teaching something about science and geography to your toddler, who really just wants to eat the Play-doh you just made.

Pinterest boards filled with “Make Your Own Train Soap Bombs,” “101 Animals You Can Make from Paper Plates,” and “How to Make Legos Out of Vegetables” don’t equal time spent with Little. And sometimes I spend more time snapping pictures on my phone (and then sharing them) than focusing on what’s in the frame.

So when I stepped outside and felt the first breeze of fall—the first promise that the hell that is August in Texas is behind us—I plopped down in a chair. And I watched Little as he crafted a rock mountain and found “treasure” in the pebbles while digging through his wheelbarrow with his Mickey Mouse trowel.

Everyone else was at school or work—things looming for us as well, but not on this day. The neighborhood was quiet, and I could hear the leaves rustling as clouds swept across the sky. Little was absorbed in his play, and I, in him. I realized I didn’t have my phone, but I didn’t move to get it. I snapped pictures with my mind, memorizing every hair as it moved with the breeze and watching as his little fingers picked through rocks to find the right ones for the masterpiece he was excitedly planning.

When my brain noticed that his play shoes were worn, I shushed it. When I started to fret about his hair and the cut I’m still not happy with, I quieted that, too. No time for to-do lists or worries now. There would be time to think about the “pleasantries” of a shoe-shopping trip later, and I have a silent curse for the stylist who decided his hair needed to be shorter than what I asked for. The voice in my head faded to whispers, then disappeared as I unconsciously gave myself permission to just be.

Lost in my non-thoughts, I felt my entire body relax and my breathing slow. I didn’t have a clue what time it was or how long we were out there because with no phone, I had no compulsion to check it every two seconds. And I didn’t care. Time didn’t matter. I became part of Little’s play, helping compile the rock pile he decided he needed for his monster trucks to climb and digging through the pebbles to find the treasured “golden rocks” he was collecting. We played—no Pinterest instructions needed.

I’m not sure that Little got anything out of our play session: we weren’t counting rocks to build his math skills or talking about what started with what letter or sound to help him with his reading. But I know I did. I remembered that it’s OK to slow down and let the breeze clear away more than just the summer heat.

Being a mom isn’t about fitting everything in, making everything the best it can be, or going nonstop just because that’s what it takes to keep everything on track. And it’s certainly not about deadlines, projects, or emails. None of that makes the sun rise and set each day.

But time does matter: whether you look at your phone or not, the clock is ticking, and our littles won’t always be so little. So maybe slowing down and catching a breeze every now and then is something we should all do. Maybe the world won’t end if we pause to just be—and enjoy. Enjoy the breeze, frolic in the quiet peace of an almost fall day, and don’t discount the joy of unfettered time with your little. Deadlines, texts, and emails can wait. Take it from me: Little says I know everything.