There are few things that will force a family to slow down like an ice storm in North Texas. I’m thankful for the occasional pause.
We’re fortunate in that I already work from home and don’t have to risk my life or others’ by venturing out in treacherous conditions. I’m a Dallas native and have experienced enough winter storms to know that we’re collectively ill prepared to navigate the roads when they’re coated with a layer of ice.
Tuesday morning’s windy, thundery, extra loud sleet forced our household to stop and breathe. To make deliberate choices instead of reflexive ones. To enjoy a day with little expectation.
We didn’t rush out the door with overstuffed backpacks to get to Jogging Club on time. I didn’t hurry to the gym for triathlon training before hurrying home to work before hurrying back to school to pick up children for gymnastics and occupational therapy before hurrying back home to complete homework and eat whatever dinner I managed to prepare amid all the hurrying.
No one expected us anywhere. We expected nothing from anyone else.
I prepared breakfast an hour later than usual and didn’t once admonish a child “to stop talking and focus on eating so we can get moving.”
When they would have normally been sitting in school desks, we were reading a complete chapter fromHarry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. I didn’t once glance at a watch or clock.
Instead of throwing away some overripe bananas and wishing I had time to turn them into something good, I mashed them and mixed up a batch of banana-chocolate chip muffins. There was no deadline, so I encouraged Katie to help, letting her crack eggs at her own pace and taking time to explain minutia of every step of the recipe. We discussed why we pack brown sugar but don’t pack flour and why we fold ingredients at the end.
Katie lingered over Valentine’s Day cards. She spread out each card and envelope, taking care to match the illustration and sentiment with the appropriate recipient. (Even 5-year-olds worry about sending the wrong message.)
Cooper braved sidewalks to make it to his buddy’s house a block away — twice. I called him back for lunch and let him go again for another three hours. He could play without worry of a practice or appointment cutting short his free time.
Together, Cooper and Katie played a board game and created new structures with Legos. I had to ask them just three times to stop arguing — a record low for a normal time-crunched weekday.
I fit in time to work, time to cook more, time to clean a little, time to tend to the fire in the fireplace. I favored comfy clothes and never considered taking time to fix my unruly hair or apply makeup.
At night we read another chapter, pushing bedtime just a smidge, knowing that Wednesday morning we’d get to sleep late and delay breakfast and ignore the real world again.
It’s not practical to live like this all the time. We need school. We need structure. We need a reliable routine.
I need a break from my children —– and them from me.
But once a year or so it feels good — natural, even — to give in to the rhythm of the earth and ignore the cacophony that we force on ourselves.
Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. E-mail her at tyradamm@gmail.com.
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