Why is it so hard to stay put? Sitting still (even with a thousand thoughts zigzagging in my mind like a school of tropical fish) continues to be one the greatest challenges in my life. But now that I’m a parent, it is even harder, and doubly important, to learn how to be still.
Before motherhood, I struggled with economy of speech and movement. Living in New York City for almost ten years, the energy was infectious. More often than not, I was bouncing off the walls, inside my head and in my body. Even if you have to cross many bridges and tunnels to get home after work, it’s hard to shake the crazy energy of the city on evenings and weekends. I adapted to a life where I felt frenetic, almost 24/7, for years on end.
After giving birth, I found myself too tired to live that way anymore. My body just heaved a sigh and collapsed under the pressure to do anything other than keep my organization running, my child safe and my house relatively clean. Having a full social calendar, or inbox for that matter, simply wasn’t in the cards.
But even though I’m less busy, I can’t shake the compulsion to “act busy” at home. While playing with Ayla, I often try to multi-task for no good reason at all. If we’re tossing a balloon back-and-forth, I’ll take advantage of the few seconds in between tosses to pick dirt out of the carpet or reorganize her toy box. Or I’ll try to feed Ayla dinner and send emails in between bites. Some days I feel like a super-mom, cape and all. On others I feel like a complete loser—I wonder, “Why can’t I just play toss the balloon instead of trying to maximize every second of the day?”
The hardest part of all is knowing that my crazed energy affects Ayla. When you have someone following you around all day, you quickly realize when you’re behaving like a mommy-on-speed. Poor Ayla practically spins around in circles just to keep up with me on days when I can’t sit still. Last week, I realized that I had to exercise some self-control. I had to learn to sit still—if not for myself, then for Ayla’s sake.
For the first few days, staying put in the living room, while Ayla played with and around me, was nothing short of torture. Every few seconds, I caught myself wanting to get up and do something. But the more I stayed put, the more Ayla relaxed. And that’s when the magic happened. When I’m fully present, Ayla is more willing to take risks. That’s when she has a breakthrough—she might say a new word, or climb up something impossibly tall, or learn how to spin around in circles.
On good days, I sit with Ayla for hours and feel absolutely present to my daughter. On bad days, I feel the urge to get up every few seconds and when I give in to that urge, I try to pretend that “I’m only getting up to improve the play environment for Ayla.” If there was a hidden camera in the room, everyone could see my lips quiver and my arms twitch, while I tried to keep my limbs still.
Sometimes I feel like becoming a parent is about starting over, and trying to live your life a little better the second time around. If I couldn’t learn to meditate for myself during my first 34 years alive, I might just have a shot at doing so for Ayla. Visions of saints and angels weren’t sufficient motivation to live in the present moment. But gazing upon my sweet daughter, I think I’ve found a reason to change.
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