When Our Overscheduled Family Needed a Pause
Last winter, our schedule hit a tipping point.
I had one finishing swim season, one playing soccer, one in the school play, all three wrestling, and all three in Scouts. The older boys were also getting crushed by their first year of middle school. And I mean crushed. Never before received grades. Tests that were no joke. And a social atmosphere that was evolving daily.
We were overextended. Over-scheduled. Dysregulated. Running on fumes.
Then the oldest three got really sick. And this wasn’t a little sick. They all dropped two weight classes. Cooper couldn’t keep anything down. And at one point, we were pretty sure at least one of them was seeing visions.
Suddenly, our schedule wasn’t about getting to practice, rehearsal, meetings, or wherever else we were supposed to be.
The schedule became: get better.
Weird how sometimes our bodies have to scream at us to slow down.
Christmas break gave us a chance to regroup, although Christmas break isn’t exactly the ideal time to have an existential crisis about overscheduling. There were holiday parties. Family traditions. Christmas stuff. And now a mountain of schoolwork the boys had missed while they were sick.
We slowed down. Sort of.
But there was still work to do.
The make-up work actually helped. School was the priority, and everyone understood that. Wrestling practice could be missed. Scouts could wait. Something had to give.
My wife had been telling me some version of this long before three sick kids forced me to listen. She’s a homebody. I am...not.
An empty Saturday on the calendar looks relaxing to her.
To me, it looks like available inventory.
What could we do? Where could we go? Is there a park we haven’t been to? A family tradition we haven’t invented yet? Perhaps this is finally the weekend our children need to experience competitive llama shearing.
Many of my better ideas about fatherhood have come from gaining someone else’s perspective. Sometimes I go looking for it. Sometimes it’s offered subtly.
And sometimes I need to be beaten over the head with it.
My wife has used all three. She’s one of the few people willing to interrupt me when I’m knee-deep in planning the next wonderful program, initiative, sports season, or family tradition with a question that makes me reconsider the whole thing.
This time, we listened.
When school started again, we decided Monday would be different.
Monday became our pause.
No sports. No scouts. No llama shearing. No place we needed to get to.
The boys could come home and we could look at the week together. What’s due? What’s happening? When are you going to do your homework? When will you get your chores done?
Not us barking the schedule at them as we rushed out the door.
Them figuring it out.
And because nobody had to be anywhere at 5:30, dinner could take longer than 22 minutes to make. We could make something fresh. Something that required chopping things. Something that didn’t get heated up in the microwave.
Afterward, if the weather cooperated, maybe we’d ride our bikes to the park.
If it didn’t, we’d pull out a game.
Nothing revolutionary.
We just weren’t going anywhere.
Learning to Recognize What Our Family Needs
I have spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to fit everything into our family calendar. Optimized for maximum epic memories.
My wife has spent a lot of time trying to convince me that we don’t have to.
And once I can take a step back from optimization mode, I can see that she is right.
I see the opportunities that come from filling a calendar. She sees the opportunities that come from leaving some of it empty. Neither of us have to abandon our perspective BUT I have to be willing to let hers change mine.
Our Monday’s are no longer exciting. We do homework. We make a family dinner. We might play a game or go for a bike ride.
The most important thing is, we are together. Nobody is watching the clock wondering when we have to leave to get somewhere.
One of the things my wife continues to teach me is that my perspective, no matter how well-intentioned, is incomplete. I tend to see the opportunities that come from filling our calendar. She sees the opportunities that come from leaving some of it empty. Neither of us has to abandon our perspective. But I have to be willing to let hers change mine.
Because…
sometimes the things I want for my family aren’t the things my family needs from me.
Support: Making Room for What Matters
Proverbs 15:22 reminds us that our plans benefit from the “counsel” of others.
Apparently, my wife could have saved herself a lot of frustration if she’s just handed me a Harvard research paper.
The Harvard Center on the Developing Child identifies three important principles for supporting children and families: strengthening relationships, developing planning and self-regulation skills, and reducing sources of stress.
Looking at our Mondays, I can see all three.
We’re creating time to connect without rushing to the next activity. The boys are are getting the time and space to figure out their own responsibilities, how to prioritize them, and when to fit in some down time (hopefully so they don’t become like me). Which is also resulting in removing some of the pressure that comes from trying to squeeze everything into an already full week.
And the best part?
We don’t need an NFL style playbook to fit it all in.
We just need to protect a little room in our calendar.
Reset: Protecting Our Family Time
When I think about the kind of family I want, I often come up with words like loving, connected, close, team.
When I look at some of my decisions, I often come up with rushed, stressed, disconnected.
That is a problem.
Because, if I want someone in my family not named Jeremy to describe our family the same way I do, my decisions have to reflect the kind of family I say I want.
Which means scheduling what matters most, time to be a family.
Most days for us, it’s Monday. Sometimes we have to move it around. The most important thing for us is to put it on our calendar at the beginning of the week, and protect it.
It doesn’t need to be another elaborate family experience or the opportunity to finally squeeze in llama shearing. It doesn’t even need to be a perfect family afternoon.
Its to make sure that the only thing scheduled that day…
is being together as a family.
Keep Exploring Family Connection
Read: Fictional Fathers - Clark Griswold: It’ll Be Fun... Right? - A look at what Clark Griswold teaches us about the difference between creating the perfect family experience and enjoying the one we're actually having.
Listen: Garage Talk: Crushing Your Kids at Mario Kart - How watching my kids react to a game of Mario Kart made me rethink what they actually wanted from me..
Read: When Expectations Kill the Moment - How my expectations can keep me from recognizing what my family needs as a moment unfolds.
“Available inventory” made me laugh. I like the idea of protecting an ordinary evening together. Thanks for sharing!
I’m with you on this, Jeremy. With four children, I think there’s enormous value in an afternoon when nobody needs to be somewhere else.
Those simple afternoons also let children experience being at home as something worth enjoying in itself. I want mine to grow up feeling that being together is enjoyable enough to not need to constantly plan. Your Mondays sound like they’re giving your boys exactly that.