Sports, Chores, and Laundry Piles
Last fall, our weekends became relentless.
One son playing travel soccer for the first time.
One son playing on a new football team.
One son swimming for a new swim team.
And our youngest experiencing marathon car rides against his will.
This was the first time in our lives that our boys were all playing a different sport. It was also the first time they wanted to do something different. When you have three boys within 20 months of each other, let’s just say they do A LOT of things together.
We knew it would be crazy.
We knew it would be hard.
We knew they needed their individuality.
So we did what any crazy parent would do with 3 extremely active boys, we put our heads down and we white knuckled through all of it. Spent way too much money eating drive thru food. Lost way too many water bottles.
And bribed our youngest with way too many sugary treats.
Those bribes always seemed to haunt us later.
Our weekends felt more like a taxi service than family time. When we did get to breathe on Sunday, we vegged out. Too much screen time. Too little play time. I am pretty sure we had a couple of Sundays that we only saw the kids when the snack pantry ran out of food and they came upstairs begging for their first real meal at 4PM. It was not something I ever thought I would openly admit in an article on the world wide web. But here we are.
The worst part about it, it felt like we were growing more apart as each weekend passed. Laundry piles were sprouting up all over the place. The smell test became the official way the boys picked out what they would wear that week. Take out was ordered way too often. Partly because we were exhausted and partly because we never did the dishes.
And then my dad surprised us with a visit. He hadn’t seen us in a while, was in town visiting a friend, and went old school and knocked on the door without calling.
The horror of opening the door.
Seeing my dad,
Quickly accepting that he was coming in and realizing we lost our four year old under 1 of the 3 laundry piles in the family room.
Let’s just say, he didn’t stay very long. But it was the wake up call we needed.
Part exhaustion.
Part embarrassment.
100% realizing a change was needed.
Trying to Out-Spreadsheet Exhaustion
I went into planning and scheduling mode. Devising spreadsheets of responsibilities. Color coded calendars for chores. And a unique reward system to get everyone inspired to happily complete their chores.
And by unique, I mean a spreadsheet and a deep dad voice.
Thankfully, I happened to be reading a book about the negative effects of constant hurry. At the moment I was reading about the Sabbath. It was talking about how just a handful of decades ago, nothing was really open on Sundays. People went to church. They went home. Prepared a great meal.
They slowed down. They relaxed. The rested.
That seemed like a far off fantasy land for us. But it intrigued me. Maybe we needed to prioritize a “day of rest” rather than try to out spreadsheet exhaustion, fight apathy, and a sports schedule that never seemed to end.
So we sought out to try a “day of rest”. No screens. No errands. No busyness. Just time to breathe and enjoy each other. Seemed serene and naive at the same time.
Leading up to our first attempt, we had a decent amount of things to do. Sports weren’t going anywhere, but oddly they rarely showed up on Sunday. We had to grocery shop, meal prep, and do something about the newly named Mount Everest of laundry in our bedroom. Groceries and meal prep got completed. Mount Everest was downgraded to a sledding hill, but we accepted it was going to be a sledding hill for at least one more day.
We were firm about it. No work during our “day of rest”.
We slept in. Took our time making breakfast with the youngest. Enjoyed conversation as the boys cleaned up. And then realized it was 10AM, and we had NOTHING to do. The piles of clothes were screaming to be folded, but we were going to stick to not tackling that hill today (which was not actually that hard to accept).
Part panic when we realized we committed to no screens.
Part anxiety when we couldn’t check our fantasy teams.
Part relief when we remembered the Lions weren't playing that day.
As the day went on, we found things to do.
Played catch.
Played Catan (which is our favorite board game at the moment).
Painted.
Sat on the back porch while the boys jumped on the trampoline. I am pretty sure our neighbors would call it death wrestling from the sounds they hear over the fence, but we just call it jumping.
Despite the chaos on the trampoline, I finally felt like a dad who made time to do something our family desperately needed, rest.
That rest turned into laughter.
Conversations.
Smiles.
Snuggles.
All the things I thought my boys had grown out of were the very things that found their way to our back porch that night.
We admired the sunset while the fall weather made us snuggle a little tighter to stay warm.
Room to Rest. Room to Enjoy.
A lot of our overpacked schedule came from a place of love.
Loving their excitement.
Loving their need for individuality.
Loving being a family that showed up for it all.
Somewhere along the way, that love resulted in a constant state of hurry.
And when I read the quote “hurry and love are incompatible” in The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry by John Mark Comer, I had to take a step back.
So when Comer described the Sabbath as needing to “stop working, stop wanting, stop worrying, just stop” I wanted to try it.
Sure, I could stop folding laundry. Mt Everest was proof of that divinely given gift.
But I couldn’t stop worrying.
I couldn’t stop the hamster from running towards nothing.
Even when our calendar finally gave us a break, my mind kept finding something else we needed to do. Something worth more hurry. Something that I wanted to do but my family probably didn’t need or want.
There is research behind the value of protecting ordinary moments together. A study of 647 families found that satisfaction with everyday leisure involving Dad…
shared meals, board games, hobbies, and playing in the yard…
was strongly associated with family connection and functioning.
And yes, I am choosing to count death wrestling on the trampoline as a yard activity of leisure.
I don’t think that means that a game of Catan will solve our family problems.
Especially when Jackson takes control of the robber for the fourth time and delivers his evil laugh that sparks fear in the rest of us.
But I do think it gives us another reason to make room for the simple things we enjoy together.
Our boys still needed opportunities to explore their own interests, and those opportunities would keep our calendar busy.
But we also needed time to enjoy being a family without watching the clock for wherever we had to be next.
The Reset: Let Something Wait
Look at your calendar together. Find a stretch of time this week you can protect for rest. Start with an afternoon if a full day feels impossible.
Ask everyone: What would we enjoy doing together if we weren’t rushing?
Handle what needs handling beforehand. Put the screens away. Let one unfinished thing stay unfinished.
Then give yourselves time to settle in. The urge to fill the space might show up before the enjoyment does.
Play. Eat. Sit. Rest. See what happens.
The laundry will still be there.
Give the laughter a chance to show up, too.
Keep Exploring Intentional Rest
One-Minute Pause — My Algorithm Wants Me to Be a Better Dad
A one-minute interruption to autopilot when my attention is everywhere except where I actually am.
Long Pause — The Long Pause Has Been Stolen From Us
What happens when we give our minds enough uninterrupted space to wander, process, and breathe.
Family Pause — Our Family Needed a Pause. I Needed an Intervention.
Creating room in the calendar to recognize and respond to what the people I love actually need.