Slowing Down

So, the thing is that I’m working on slowing down.

I went to the gym this week and tried a new way of lifting weights. I had read this article in Newsweek about a new movement to do weightlifting incredibly slowly –counting slowly to seven as you push and slowly to seven as you release. It was an interesting experiment (and not just because it worked so well that I can’t even raise my arms today.) For one thing, it was incredibly hard to slow down long enough to do the exercises correctly. I mean, REALLY hard. All around me, people were grunting and groaning and exhaling-out-inhaling-in and there I sat, silently counting and trying not to get swept along in the mad rush.

The other really fascinating thing was the effect my concentrated slowness had on my fellow exercisers. Gradually, a hush fell over the room and those who did talk, spoke in whispers. I’m not sure if people thought they were in the presence of some very spiritual Zen-like effort at peace and tranquility while sweating or what, but I made people really nervous. Isn't that interesting? I was doing exactly the same thing as everyone else -- using the machines to lift weights -- but I was going so much slower that it affected the entire room…

So, I started thinking about the pace at which we live and the pace at which I parent.

My whole life I've been in a hurry. I am the youngest of four children and I was always trying to catch up to my older brothers and sister. I was eager to take on all the trappings of adulthood before I was even an adult –car payments, house payments, marriage; I got very serious about life before it was ever necessary. The whole “stop and smell the roses” movement simply passed me right by. I spent ten years working in the non-profit realm where staff and money are always in short supply so I was always in a rush, doing the work of several people. Then I rushed around doing the maintenance work on my life –dry cleaners, gas for the car, grocery shopping, haircut, yard work –and I rushed to fit some sort of social life around my work and maintenance. Rush, rush, rush. Consume vast quantities of caffinated substances, rush some more. Sleep too little, get up and do it again.

So now I'm a stay-at-home-mom with two small children. And my life is vastly different than it was back then but my pace hasn't really changed. Why am I still in such a hurry? My children will only be this age once and I am rushing them around like tiny robots to meet some schedule that exists only in my head. Why is it necessary to get our clothes and shoes on and leave for the grocery store as soon as Sesame Street is over? Who says the pajamas need to come off by 9:00 AM?

I caught myself this morning. Ana and I were finger-painting in the kitchen when she sat down on her painting. As in, sat right down in a bunch of wet paint. So, after we finished finger-painting, I stripped her down to her diaper, filled up the sink with warm water and bubbles and let her go to town washing her hands while I launched a recovery mission on the kitchen. She stood on her stepping stool, washing her hands and every few minutes she said "MOM! This is TERRIFIC!" Once, she came out dripping and said "Mom! I'm having FUN!" She spent as much time washing her hands and playing in the sink as she did finger-painting –the washing up became another fun activity. If I had done my usual let’s-get-you-all-cleaned-up-so-we-can-rush-on-to-the-next-thing, we'd have missed it.

Now, I have to say that I really have tried since Ana's infancy to build in time for her to do nothing. I think kids use that time to develop their imaginations and creativity –they need unstructured time to learn how to entertain themselves, which is part of being self-sufficient. But does it defeat the purpose if I rush her to get to ‘Quiet Time?” I actually found myself getting impatient with her because she was taking so long to get up to her room and ready for Quiet Time! That's crazy!

The other thing I'm realizing is that I operate under a totally arbitrary schedule that I have created for myself. Does anyone actually care that I make my bed and tidy the house before we start our projects for the day? I assure you that I could NOT make my bed at all and no one would care except me. Does anyone care that my dishwasher is emptied and the dog is fed before I sit down with a cup of coffee? (Okay, the dog definitely cares.) But it doesn't win me any brownie points and in fact, I could really be missing out on some lovely quality time with my daughters if I answer the question “Mom, will you read to me?” with “I'm unloading the dishwasher right now.” Yes, the dishwasher must be unloaded at some point (can't have those dishes piling up in the sink when we might need it for playing with bubbles) but it doesn't have to happen before anything FUN happens. What is the hurry?

Plus, this false schedule contributes to the general hectic pace of our lives and it detracts from my enjoyment of this fleeting time. My children will only be this age once. I want to remember long afternoons sitting in the park, endless versions of “The Wheels on the Bus Go ‘Round and ‘Round,” finger-painting and bubbles. I want to remember all the laughter and first steps and the spontaneous uttering of “I love you, Mom.” In the fall, Ana will start pre-school and some sort of dance or gymnastics and our lives will take on a REAL schedule. This time of total flexibility and freedom will end and someone else will do water-play with my oldest child. I don't want to miss out on these golden moments because I was in too much of a rush.

So, is this the start of a more serene, calmer Mommy? Well, I'm going to try –stillness was never my biggest strength. I know from my experiment at the gym that it takes more energy and concentration to go slowly than it does to sprint about without thinking. (Sometimes I just long for the unexamined life, you know?) But I think it's worth a try because all this rushing around is robbing me of the enjoyment of my daily existence, and THAT is truly criminal.

It will be interesting to see if it makes other people nervous...

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