I was proudly pedaling away in spin class (not proud because I was kicking it in class but because I’d actually managed to pry myself out of bed on a Sunday morning) when the instructor put on an old Supertramp song, “Take the Long Way Home.” I flashed back to a time in my life when I would meander without the worry of caring for anyone but me. Since my world now revolves around shortcuts—whether it’s getting dinner on the table in 15 minutes, speed-dressing myself and my son in the morning, wolfing down a salad at my desk or racing to get to summer-camp pickup on time—the idea of taking the long and winding road home felt downright indulgent. So after my workout, I rewarded myself by not rushing. Knowing my son was on a playdate and my husband was mowing the lawn, I strolled the aisles of the grocery store.

I popped by a friend’s house to look at new shoes she’d just bought on sale. I rolled down the car windows, cranked a favorite tune and enjoyed the breeze and the decadence of life in slow motion.

It was a stark contrast to how quickly things move these days—most of all, my son, Jack. He starts kindergarten next month. He can write his name, even the difficult letter K. He enjoys making up, listening to and pretending to read stories.

When he graduated from preschool, shook his teachers’ hands and held up his diploma, I felt proud but rushed. His eyes are fixed on the road ahead, but mine are glancing back at the places we’ve been and the accelerated pace of our lives.

That’s why finding moments to slow down with Jack and take him in have become all-important to me. So today when I pick him up from camp, we’re going to play his favorite CD, sing at the top of our lungs, feel the wind in our hair and take the long way home.

Suzanne Riss, Editor-in-Chief
Suzanne.Riss@workingmother.com
Tweet me: @EditorMomWM