The Taste of Slowness

I wonder how the next generation of parents will reflect on today’s family life. I’m curious what they will think of a culture where people are way too busy. How will they perceive a time marked by the popular “one-minute bedtime story” for babies, children with chock-full day planners, moms and dads working frenzied schedules and cell phones and email never allowing us to stray too far.

Even in Vermont, with its laid back way about things, I used to succumb to the ambitions of our greater society. Ironically, it wasn’t a high-powered investment firm that scheduled my weeks to the minute, but the non-profit sector. It wasn’t hours of freeway commuting that made my nights long, but volunteer committee meetings. And weekends and vacations brought household and recreation pressures, from garden beds to bike rides.

Motherhood has a way of forcing pause. As a time of monumental transformation, it reinvents everything we know, especially the pace of things. Having a newborn in the home shrinks the whole world to its simplest form - a refocusing of activity inward towards family, self and homestead. Time became temporarily irrelevant the day we brought home our boys, Carson and Austin, from the hospital. Mornings seemed to dissolve gazing at our sleeping babies, days slipped by without noticing dirty dishes, weeks disappeared without a to do list.

Only a year and a half later, playgroups, writing and household chores make life hectic again. I have fallen back into my old rhythm of multi-tasking - trying to “do-it-all” - but this time I am working on embracing the chaos. The toys strewn around the house rarely make me sigh and the email inbox can be easily ignored. I am better about relaxing while picking dandelions in the meadow all morning. I can contentedly follow our toddlers as they stop at every puddle along the way to the mailbox.

Because I don’t want to go back to the pace I used to know, to a tempo that once risked health and happiness. I refuse to join my generation of parents with the bookcase of one-minute bedtime stories and dog-eared day planner. Many would tell me I have no choice, our society is into speed. And my goal-oriented former self would nod her head in agreement. At the same time, I hope the luxurious taste of slowness keeps bringing me back. Back to the sandbox where our boys unhurriedly dig and pour, while the garden waits patiently nearby.
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As printed in Mama Says newsletter