The Tortoise and The Hare

What has four arms, four legs and moves at the speed of light?  The Tarr boys.

What has four arms, four legs and moves at a snail’s pace?  The Tarr boys.

It just depends on the situation.

On the field, my boys are fast.  Often the fastest (or at least one of the fastest) on their teams — as reported by every coach they’ve ever had.  Give them a short distance to run and they are unbeatable.  Quick as bunnies.  They are lightning fast around the bases in baseball, fleet-footed on the lacrosse and football fields and swifter than most on the basketball court.

Off the field, my boys are s-l-o-w.  Sometimes the slowest (or at least it seems) in town — as reported by every parent they’ve ever had (ok, that’s a bit dramatic since they only have their dad and me, but I liked how it sounded).  Tell them we have to leave in five minutes (or ten minutes, thirty minutes, it doesn’t really matter) and they are inert.  Crawling at a turtles pace.  They drag in the morning, are leisurely before practices and games and dawdle at bedtime.

Fast or slow.  Forward or reverse.  On or off.  It’s as if my kids are a cheap blender with only two speeds.  Worse, they are like a broken blender that speeds up when you need it to slow down (read: when they should focus on homework, brush their teeth efficiently or actually chew before swallowing) or barely moves when you need it to rush through (when they are tying their shoes before tipoff or showering at night after a late practice, for example).

In sports, coaches tell the kids that they can’t play at just one speed.  They teach them that there’s a time to accelerate and a time to decelerate.  Knowing when to do which is the key to being successful in the game.  This is true in life as well.

I am usually rushing.  Part of that is my circumstance.  Multitasking is a mom’s way of life.  Often it’s necessary to rush through one thing (like homework or a snack) in order to get to the next (like practice or a dental appointment) on time.  But part of the rushing is my personality.  I’m impatient, move at a hastened pace and even speak quickly.  I am a New Yorker, after all.

My husband isn’t like this, and despite being born in New York, my kids are not quick-footed either.  They don’t see the need to rush unless they are carrying a ball, chasing a ball or racing to beat a ball.  They are last off the school bus, last out of a party and last off the field.  Super frustrating for a person like me!

But here’s the thing … sometimes their stride is the right one.  Yes, my boys need to learn when to pick up the pace so we’re not holding up the school bus, arriving late to practice or sneaking in to mass after the first reading, but I need to learn when to slow down and let go.  I need to stop and smell the roses, and my kids’ armpits, more often because in the blink of an eye, they will be grown and it’ll all be a blur.  A rushed blur that I didn’t even enjoy.

A week from tomorrow begins our Spring Break vacation.  Despite the fact that the planner in me has mapped out a (loose) itinerary for our journey, I’m going to try to embrace the slow pace of South Carolina and enjoy every imperfect minute of it.  I’m really, really going to try.

But first I have to survive the 10-hour family road trip … Serenity now!

– LJDT