I probably tell my soon-to-be-8-year-old to “hurry up” a half-dozen times a day. Whether it’s urging her to complete her homework, to catch up with me on a walk or to complete her (very short) list of daily chores, I’m regularly urging Sophia to move faster. Why? Because that’s what I “need” — or at least what I think I need.
This line of dialogue is particularly prominent during weekday mornings, which tend to be quite rushed in our household. We’re often scurrying and scrambling to get out the door on time. That’s been true for a while and we doubled down on that chaos nine months ago when baby sister joined the family. We’ve tried many tactics to smooth the morning churn (night-before prep, morning task lists, motivational music, no motivational music…just to name a few). Regardless of the tactic, the mornings are still a bit harried. I think that’s because it’s actually not a lack of organization that causes the rush; at least not usually. Nor is it a particularly long commute (one of the many benefits of raising a family in Rochester, Minnesota!)…I can usually make it from home to work in about 30 minutes and that’s with two separate kid drop-offs on two different sides of town. The hurry is simply the product of trying to get one mom and two kids ready to go and out the door — there are just a lot of moving parts to coordinate.
During a particularly frantic morning last week I, as usual, urged Sophia to “get moving.” She stopped, looked me in the eyes and said, without the slightest hint of sass or whine, “What if I was just made to be a slow-moving person, mom?”
I didn’t respond in the moment — of course, there was no time for that. But I’ve been thinking about it ever since. What if. And, more importantly, how do I honor that — her natural tendency to meander and not sprint through life? Her ability to remain unfazed when others zip by her? How do I honor that while still reinforcing the need to stay on task, be respectful of other people’s time and move at least somewhat quickly when the situation demands it? And, how do I make sure I haven’t lost all of that meandering spirit myself, as it tends to be my natural style as well?
The best answer, I think, is to acknowledge that it’s a balancing act. Sometimes she needs to hurry up; other times I need to slow down. There are, of course, benefits to both approaches — particularly hers. She’s interesting and quirky and makes random observations about the things she notices or thinks about during her ambling journey through life. And, frankly, if she was always on task or was moving at breakneck speed through her days, she wouldn’t be Sophia. But there are also times when we just need to get moving and get stuff done. Like on Tuesday morning when I’ve got an 8:00 am meeting and need to swing by my office before heading to the conference room.
Maybe from time-to-time we’ll have a weekday morning that’s free of “hurry ups.” But more often than not, we’ll probably fall back to old routines. I’ll say jump and Sophia will say “what was your favorite color when you were in second grade?” I’ll say get dressed and she’ll come out with one pant leg on, halfway through a story she forgot to share the day before. I’ll urge her to move quickly and she will…using her own definition of the word. But, on the good days, hopefully I’ll take a minute to tell her about my second-grade self and listen to her stories from days past. There is, after all, a moment or two to spare on even the busiest days and I know I’ll regret it if I don’t.
As it stands, there is a chaotic choreography to our mornings and a quirky rhythm that only we can create. When I have the time to think about it — no, when I make the time to think about it — I am appreciative of that beautiful chaos. And I’m thankful to Sophia for inadvertently reminding me of that fact…and of reminding me that my favorite color has always been purple, both in second grade and in adulthood.
