I have a really hard time keeping a balance when it comes to work and play. I’m terrible at it, my mother is terrible at it, my whole family seems to be terrible at it. We’re multi-tasking [0] workaholics of a sort, though it’s not like we get a lot done. Sitting down for a rest, reading a book for fun, taking time by ourselves, and even working out is looked upon as frivolous, somewhat selfish. Thus, trying to make sure my three-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Georgia, values her own life balance [0] is a goal of mine, but one that I don’t feel 100% qualified to teach.

With Georgia I try not to make a big deal about rushing to get somewhere, unless it really has a hard start time. I feel like there will be enough times in her life when she'll have to be somewhere NOW. Before that starts, I want her to know what it’s like to just go about her business for the process and pleasure of it. I realize what a luxury this is, with most kids needing to be somewhere before their folks have to be at work in the morning. Hova (my husband) and I are living on a budget in order to raise Georgia ourselves.

Today, after three non-sleep nights followed by three monster-child days, and after overhearing Georgia admonish her baby bunny to “play by yourself because I have too much work,” I just gave in. I knew we'd been keeping ourselves a little to busy. We ran one errand, and then went to the Portland Children’s Museum [1].

I let Georgia lead completely. We dallied our way through, and spent four hours doing face painting, reading books in the tree house, dressing up, playing baby and mama tiger. And I noticed other parents doing what I usually do at the museum—trying to make sure their kids get the most out of the place, instead of getting the most out of each moment for themselves, too. As I let go with Georgia I realized that imposing my limits on her exploration of the pretend grocery store (boooooring) in order to take in the clay studio (cool!) doesn’t honor her process. I’m done with the tree leaf transparencies long before she gets whatever she’s getting out of it, but that doesn’t mean I should push her to the construction zone just because I’ve lost interest. After our long day, and “just ONE more book,” and a tiny fit upon leaving—because the museum was closing, not because I deemed us done—she cuddled up to me and said, “I love you, Mommy. You give me all the things I want.”

Considering we had packed our lunch, had breezed through the gift shop without a request, and hadn’t even touched the cache of Easter candy I was saving just-in-case, I was kind of confused. But then I realized of course it’s true, I gave my time to her, without pushing her or rushing her, and gave her my full attention without trying to get work done, or clean the house, or get my phone calls answered.

It can’t happen every day, maybe not every week, but next time we go someplace, or have playtime at home for even one hour I’m hoping this lesson sticks. I’m banking on the idea that being a fully present mom will help Georgia be a fully present kid who values a calm, full, and balanced life. And if I’m wrong? Well, at least she has some great times where she feels like she’s getting all the things she wants!