Learning to live in the moment can make a difference in life.
NOT long ago, my daughter found a diary she’d kept when she was 7 or 8 years old and came to share it with me. Now a preteen, we laughed at her creative spelling (“I am BOARD”) and I remembered with a sweet pang how she used to spell the two S’s in her name with backward Z’s.
And then this: “My mom gets mad at me.”
And a few pages later: “My mommy yells at me.”
And I thought my heart would rip open.
Because she was right.
When she and her brother were younger, I was exhausted. All. The. Time.
I spent hours, usually late at night, arranging baby-sitters, child care and intricate carpools to after-school activities. Summer camps ran from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., as if it were still the 1950s and a 2 p.m. pickup, among other things, wouldn’t result in a wicked case of stress eczema and near-constant anxiety. And then I would rush around myself, juggling work, and worry more when things fell apart, because they usually did.
My time was chopped up, fragmented — I called it “time confetti.” I baked cupcakes, often at 2 a.m. I took my kids to the doctor and dentist — my husband didn’t because I thought that’s what a “good” mother should do.
And still, I remember feeling soaked with guilt that it wasn’t enough and feeling panicked that I was so busy I was somehow missing my life.
So, did I lose it on occasion? Like when my daughter hadn’t cleaned up her mess and instead blew bubbles in the warm afternoon sun? Yes. I’m not proud to say, I did.
At the time, I didn’t think things could change. I’d chosen the impossible life of the working mother and thought this is just how it has to be.
I was wrong.
I’ve spent the last several years digging into what I came to call the “Overwhelm,” and looking for bright spots — where people had time for what the Harvard psychologist Erik Erikson said were the three great arenas of the good life: work, love and play. And I found hope.
I found companies in the United States and abroad that, instead of rewarding long hours of face time in the office and overwork, are fostering a culture of “effective” work — shorter, flexible work hours, driven by performance.
Companies like Menlo Innovations, a high-tech firm, Patagonia and law firms that call themselves the “new normal” and have blown up the billable hour culture are embracing emerging research that shows workers who are well-rested, healthy, have time off and time for their lives outside of work are actually more creative, loyal and productive.
Through the innovative ThirdPath Institute, I found couples who are working together to see beyond the old 1950s movies that play in our heads — that the best moms stay home or take primary responsibility for the kids and the best dads focus on work. I hadn’t realized how powerfully those movies had played in my own head. Now, my husband and I more fairly share the load at home. We take turns making doctor appointments and getting kids to the dentist. He cooks. I do yardwork.
Having a partner, not someone who occasionally “helps out,” and including the kids in chores have freed up time in my day and space in my brain. I no longer feel like I have an endless tape loop of stuff to do, spinning me out of the moment and contaminating my time.
I found time to play. Most Americans think of leisure as unproductive and unimportant. But neuroscience is finding that when we are idle, our brains are most active. That’s when our brains are wired for the flash of insight of the aha! moment.
I was shocked when I discovered that, despite all the guilt, time diary data show that working mothers today spend as much engaged time with their kids as at-home mothers did in the 1970s.
Perhaps, more than anything, this is what I wish I’d known when my kids were little: New research has found that it’s not the quantity of time that matters for kids, it’s the quality that counts. And it’s not the being away at work that hurts them, like we’ve all feared. It’s the stress, the guilt, the feelings of inadequacy — and, yes, the yelling.
The other day, there were dishes to be done and work projects looming. Yet, I chose to sit outside in the warm morning sun with my husband and kids, talking and laughing. The time didn’t last long. And a few years ago, busy trying to get things done first, I would have missed it entirely. It was a beautiful, ordinary moment. And I was grateful that, finally, I was there to live it.