I Refuse to Be Busy

I’m not busy.

Are you shocked? It feels almost wrong to say, in this moment when all my fellow parents reply to my “Hey, how’s it going?” with “Busy! Always busy!” and even fill in the same response for me: “How are you? Busy, I’m sure!”

But I’m not. I hate being busy. Busy implies a rushed sense of cheery urgency, a churning motion, a certain measure of impending chaos, all of which make me anxious. Busy is being in one place doing one thing with the nagging sense you that you ought to be somewhere else doing something different. I like to be calm. I like to have nothing in particular to do and nowhere in particular to be. And as often as I can — even when I’m dropping a child off here or there, or running an errand, or waving in the carpool line — I don’t think of myself as busy. I’m where I need to be, doing, for the most part, what I want to do.
I’ll throw in the necessary caveat that I am scarcely sitting around eating bonbons. (I’m not even sure I like bonbons.) I’m the working parent of four children. There are things going on, some days more than others, and there are things I need to do, many of which are not optional. But most of the time, “busy” is a choice, and it’s a choice I refuse to make.

We can’t control everything. For me, whether I go to meet with the school about one child’s Individualized Education Program is not a choice; taking another to the dentist is not a choice; dealing with my dented, rusting bumper is not a choice. But doing those things one a time, and not on a day with other deadlines or while trying to squeeze in one more meeting, email or phone call often is a choice. Not always, but often.

In her book “Overwhelmed,” Brigid Schulte looks at “Work, Love and Play When No One Has the Time.” As she writes, some of what makes us (particularly as parents) overwhelmed is outside of our immediate control. Most of us can’t choose to live in a country that doesn’t actively make it more difficult to be both caregiver and breadwinner. We cannot just pick paid family leave and sick days, or work hours that align with school hours, or readily available and affordable day care or a society that encourages real leisure from a menu. But while we collectively work toward change, most of us individually can make at least a few changes — starting with admitting that we choose how we spend at least some of our time, and we choose whether to feel “busy” or not.

We, as parents, choose some of what makes us “busy.” We choose Kumon. We choose the yoga class that’s just far enough from an after-violin-lesson pick up that it’s a rush every single time. We choose to let one child do swimming and the other soccer, on the same afternoon. We choose to add in the stop at the dry cleaner and the ATM. And maybe those choices make us feel rushed and unhappy, and maybe they don’t.

At some point during the past year, I looked at our “busy schedule” of two working parents — both with big volunteer commitments during different seasons — and four children with school, homework and three hockey teams among them (along with a few other assorted things), and I thought “this is what we wanted.” And I looked at a few other activities, and I thought “this, we can do without.” We had a lot going on this winter, but it was all good stuff. They choose to play hockey over other options, and we choose to support that, and are lucky we can. I choose my volunteer commitment, and so does my husband, and we say no to other things — not “no, I don’t have time,” but “no, that’s not how I choose to use my time.” The result doesn’t feel busy. It feels happy. It feels good. And it feels even better now that the season is over, and we’ve said no to the sports and activities that aren’t passions, and are looking ahead to the rest of the school year without a single scheduled afternoon of the week.

Maybe you love that yoga class so much that it’s worth the anxious will-I-be-there-on-time drive to pick-up (and maybe you could declare that you’ll be five minutes late every single week, and ask for help). Maybe your family is passionate about Kumon. Or maybe “busy” is the way you like to be, and if that’s the case, truly you should revel in it.

But busy isn’t for me. Busy leaves me with my shoulders pulled up tight to my ears, yelling about every little thing and driving too fast on a road I don’t even want to be on. Busy isn’t right for my children, who like to get good and deep into every activity from Lego building to some insane repetitive game they play in the space between the kitchen island and the family room involving a tennis ball on a string, and who need a lot of unstructured time in which to do those things. Busy isn’t right for my oldest, who is hovering between that tennis ball on a string game (which he invented) and teenage life, and who asked me a few weeks ago if I thought he should play lacrosse this spring.

“Do you love lacrosse?” Not like hockey, he said. It’s O.K. It’s fun.

I asked him: Lacrosse or hanging out with your best friend all afternoon? Lacrosse or helping to build the fence around the garden? Lacrosse or hiking out back and watching the waterfall finally melt? Lacrosse or — let’s be honest — re-reading Harry Potter for the 10th time, and lying on your back on the floor throwing a ball in the air and daydreaming? You can play lacrosse. But if you do, that’s three afternoons a week plus weekends, so be sure lacrosse is really what you want to do with that time.

It wasn’t. Which is good, because I’m choosing to build that fence around the garden, and I’m going to need his help.

By KJ DELL'ANTONIA