I’ve been dropping my daughter off at the bus stop for what feels like forever, but it’s really only been about six months since she started big kid school. We let her take the bus in the morning because, honestly, by the afternoon everyone is a little turned up and I’m not quite ready for that exposure…I mean, we just got over her learning “6–7.”
What I’ve noticed lately is how many school buses I encounter now. Not just at her stop, but everywhere. On my commute. On routes I don’t usually take. They show up mostly when I’m running late or trying to squeeze around traffic.
And every single time, the same thing happens.
That little arm thingy swings out. The stop sign flashes. And no matter what I’m doing, I have to stop. I find it so annoying, but of course I understand the why, and I know that if we’d had one of those when I was a kid, a lot fewer things might have gone wrong.
I could technically keep going. My car still works. The road is still open. But I don’t. Because I’m not a monster, and because some pauses aren’t suggestions, they’re safeguards.
There’s something grounding about it. Being forced into stillness by someone whose entire job is to keep other people’s children safe. You’re not being inconvenienced. You’re being reminded that not everything is meant to move at your pace.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.
About how little in adult life has that kind of built-in pause. No flashing lights. No external signal saying, “Not yet.” Just open tabs, open carts, open calendars, and the quiet pressure to keep moving because you can.
I’m noticing it everywhere. People talking about no-shop January. People feeling overwhelmed by their closets. People rushing while getting dressed and then wondering why the day feels off before it even starts.
I’ve noticed it in myself too.
Lately, I’ve been carrying my daughter’s little felted sloth in my bag. It started as a joke, but it’s become something else. A reminder to slow down. To actually look at myself before moving forward. To ask where I’m going and whether I’m ready for it.
Sometimes slowing down looks like not buying the thing right away. Sometimes it looks like pausing before you get dressed instead of throwing something on and hoping for the best. Sometimes it just looks like standing still long enough to recognize yourself before the day asks anything of you.
What if slowing down isn’t falling behind?
What if it’s the thing that keeps you from getting hurt…emotionally, financially, energetically?
I don’t always want to rush. I don’t always want to decide right now. I don’t always want to move just because I can. Sometimes I want the world to pause until I say I’m ready to go.
Some days, I just want to be more like a school bus driver. Or a sloth.
Talk to me. I’m curious what your January habits look like, and how you find ways to slow down in a season that insists it’s time to speed up.