Before A was born, and while she was in her pushchair, I used to stride around as quickly as I could. It became such a habit that, now she’s too big for the pushchair, our progress through town goes, “Mummy, you’re walking too fast,” “Sorry, sweetheart, is that better?” If she holds my hand, I can stick to her pace for a while, but once she lets go, I’m striding off again.
Slowing down seems to come naturally to other parents, but not to me. I have to concentrate to keep myself from speeding up again, which leaves me chafing with impatience the whole time. I’m used to thinking as I walk, and walking itself is such a dull thing to think about.
Last week, I discovered a way to slow myself down, while entertaining A at the same time. We’d just been to the shop, and as I walked into the flats with a tub of glacé cherries in one hand and my keys in the other, a playful impulse struck me. Could I walk all the way up the stairs with the cherries balanced on my head?
A watched with delighted giggles as I put the tub on my head and started up the stairs. To stop it falling off, I had to keep my head steady, which meant taking every step very slowly and carefully. Halfway up, I realised I was moving at something close to A’s pace, without any of my usual impatience. And she was still laughing her head off at the sight of me carrying my shopping on my head. I think I might be onto something here.
Sometimes I find that when I’m feeling cross at or annoyed with Bertie because he can’t meet my adult expectations, play is a good way around that.
Particularly if he won’t leave me alone so I can complete a task, I find one way of dealing with my annoyance is to pick him up and put him over my shoulder in a “fireman’s lift” kind of a way and “throw” him on the settee (not actually throw! just pretend to!) and talk to him in a deep pretend-authoritative voice, telling him to stay there. He thinks it’s the funniest thing since Norman Price and it releases a lot of tension. It doesn’t always help me complete the task but it does make me realise that that task isn’t necessarily as important as I thought it was.