Power of the Pause

Pause: Lily and Sadie in a rare after-dinnertime activity of stickers and art. 

"Mom, why are we always trying to do things so fast?” 

Those were the words my sweet and inquisitive four-year-old daughter said to me this morning, as we walked briskly toward her classroom.

Just a moment before, we had dropped off her younger sister, with a flurry of hugs and kisses. “C’mon, Lily,” I said, as Lily meandered slowly toward her own classroom, stopping to look at something along the way. “Let’s go,” I said quickly, putting my hand gently on her shoulder and corralling her toward her classroom. 

It was a phrase I’ve said countless times. I suddenly realized that having me usher and guide her with the slightest of pushes on her shoulder was a nearly everyday occurrence.

Not much stops me in my tracks. But this question did. Because I knew she was right.

I’ve felt it lately: the pre-holiday rush, the increasing end-of-year work obligations, birthday parties, holiday shopping and, it seems, some sort of “event” scheduled for nearly every weekend.

Then I realized it wasn’t just the pre-holiday push she was referring to. It was every day. Rushing was part of our life. Our family operates at what I like to describe as 95% efficiency, planning and strategizing nearly every minute to fit in everything we want to do.

As a result, we have a wonderfully full life with fulfilling careers, dedicated time for fitness, home-cooked meals, and family-centered weekends (among all of the must-do’s of weekend errands and kid nap schedules). 

It also means that our days and weeks are a series of well-timed and planned events, squeezing in things when we have a window, or rushing to get to the next thing.

I’m often asked, with seeming admiration, how we manage to do it all. The real answer is that it takes a lot of work and precise planning for a family to be hitting on all cylinders at all times. It really is relentless. When something extra or unexpected gets added in – or as the year-end, holiday season can mean, lots of somethings get added in – it puts strain on this machine, er, family,  that usually runs at peak efficiency.

I’m sure Lily’s question this morning wasn’t meant as a commentary on our family’s full life. I’m sure she was asking why I had encouraged them to “hurry up” more than a few times that morning – while they dilly-dallied their way through brushing their teeth, or spent an extra 10 minutes figuring out which doll they would take on the three-mile ride to school drop-off.

For me, though, the question stuck with me all day – all day, as I smoothly navigated a back-to-back day of meetings, a commute, day-care pick-up, family dinner, and the usual bedtime routine.  Lily was right: we are trying to go fast all the time.

As the New Year approaches, I begin to think of what word will guide me in 2019. Perhaps it will be pause. 

But I need to remind myself that it’s okay to pause, to breathe, to not have a full day planned. It’s okay to say no to invitations, even when they are things you want to do. It’s okay not to rush toward the next career move or even the next meeting on your calendar. It’s okay to pause.

When I arrived at school to pick up the girls tonight, Lily and I walked to her cubbie to find her coat and backpack hanging alone on the rack. “We’re the last ones again,” she said, with a hint of pride and excitement.

For this working mom, who had been thinking about that little girl’s innocent question all day, it reinforced that maybe I do need to make some space in our schedule. To cut back a little. To be even more selective with our precious time. To pause every now and then.

I zipped Lily’s jacket, put her papers in her backpack and said, “Let’s go get your sister so we can get home to dinner.” I instinctively put my hand on her shoulder, just as I had that morning.

I caught myself. Paused. I looked around her classroom, then at her. “Did you make any of these things on these bulletin boards?” I asked. She smiled widely and nodded. “Show me,” I said.

She took my hand, and we spent a few minutes walking around her classroom. She showed me a snowman she had painted, and a flag she had colored. She showed me the easel where she likes to paint, and her favorite place to sit for lunch.

Sometimes a small pause can be a big thing.