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Staying Close When Life Gets Busy

The other night, I was ready for bed.

The house was finally quiet. I was tired. My brain was done for the day.

And then one of my girls started talking.

You know the kind of talking I mean.

Not the How was school? Fine. kind.

The real kind.

The kind that somehow begins when you’re already exhausted and standing in the hallway in your pajamas.

And for a second, I had that very normal mom thought:

Can we talk about this tomorrow?

But I stayed.

And I’m so glad I did.

Because I’m learning something as my girls get older:

Connection doesn’t always happen when it’s convenient.

Sometimes it happens in the car.

Sometimes it’s while you’re making dinner.

Sometimes it’s sitting on the edge of a bed when you thought you were going to bed yourself.

And sometimes it’s 10:30 at night when your teenager suddenly decides she would like to tell you everything.

Those moments are easy to miss.

But I’m starting to think they’re some of the most important ones.

Connection Looks Different Now

I have a junior, a freshman, and a fourth grader this year.

And motherhood looks very different than it used to.

When my girls were little, connection was almost built into our days.

They were just…there.

On my lap.

Following me into the bathroom.

Asking me to play.

Wanting one more story.

Calling, Mom! Watch this! approximately 700 times a day.

There were definitely days when I would have happily accepted five uninterrupted minutes alone.

Now?

They’re becoming their own people.

They have school and sports and friends and opinions and plans.

They don’t always need me in the same ways.

And that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.

But I’ve realized something:

As our kids get older, connection becomes less automatic.

We have to notice the openings.

The Small Invitations

Teenagers don’t walk into the room and say:

Mom, I’d like to have a meaningful conversation with you now.

Wouldn’t that be convenient?

Instead, they say something small.

“Guess what happened today.”

“Can I show you something?”

“Do you think this is weird?”

“You’ll never believe what she said.”

And sometimes, if I’m distracted, I hear the words without recognizing what they really are.

An invitation.

Come into my world for a minute.

The fourth grader might ask me to watch something she’s doing.

The teenager might sit down near me without saying much at all.

My husband might start telling me about his day while I’m mentally running through tomorrow’s to-do list.

A friend might send a text I’ve been meaning to answer for three days.

Connection often arrives quietly.

And I’ve been wondering how many times I miss it because I’m busy doing something that feels more urgent.

The People We Love Don’t Need a Perfect Version of Us

I think women carry an enormous amount of pressure around relationships.

We want to be good mothers.

Good wives.

Good friends.

Good daughters.

We want family dinners and meaningful conversations and traditions and date nights and friendships that somehow survive everyone’s impossible calendars.

And sometimes even connection becomes another thing we’re trying to do correctly.

But the people we love don’t need us to manufacture beautiful moments all the time.

They mostly need access to the real us.

The mom who sometimes orders dinner because she didn’t plan anything.

The wife who says, I miss you. Can we sit together for a little while tonight?

The friend who sends the text:

I’ve been terrible at keeping in touch lately. Want to grab coffee?

It doesn’t have to be impressive.

It just has to be genuine.

Put Down the Phone—Sometimes

I almost didn’t write this section because we’ve all heard it.

Put down your phone.

And yes, obviously.

But I also live in 2026.

My phone is my calendar, camera, work, email, grocery list, group chats, school notifications, sports schedules and approximately half of my brain.

I’m not interested in pretending we’re all going to throw our phones into a basket at the front door and suddenly become people from 1989.

But I have noticed something.

There is a difference between having my phone near me and being somewhere else because of it.

I can be sitting right beside someone I love while mentally being a hundred places away.

So I’m trying something much smaller than “use my phone less.”

I’m trying to recognize the moments when the person in front of me matters more than whatever is happening on the screen.

The Car Might Be One of My Favorite Places

I spend a ridiculous amount of time driving.

School.

Practices.

Games.

Appointments.

Errands.

Pickups.

Drop-offs.

Some days I feel like I should just start forwarding my mail to the car.

But lately, I’ve been looking at all that driving differently.

Because the car has become one of the places where my girls talk.

There’s something about sitting side-by-side instead of face-to-face that makes conversation easier.

Sometimes we talk about important things.

Sometimes we talk about absolutely nothing.

Sometimes we sing.

Sometimes everyone is quiet.

But those miles together count.

I’ve realized I don’t always need to create more family time.

Sometimes I just need to recognize the family time that’s already there.

Connection With the Person Beside You

I’ve also been thinking about marriage.

Because when you’re raising kids, it is incredibly easy for marriage to become logistics.

“Who’s picking her up?”

“What time is the game?”

“Did you pay that bill?”

“We need milk.”

Romantic stuff.

There are seasons when my husband and I are both tired and busy and moving in different directions.

And I’ve learned that waiting for the perfect date night isn’t always the answer.

Sometimes connection is sitting together for twenty minutes.

It’s asking a real question instead of discussing tomorrow’s schedule.

It’s laughing about something stupid.

It’s reaching for his hand.

It’s remembering that before we became the people managing this entire circus together, we chose each other.

Those little moments matter too.

And Then There Are Our Friends

Adult friendship can be strange.

You can deeply love someone and somehow not see them for two months.

Everyone is busy.

Kids have schedules.

Work gets demanding.

Someone gets sick.

Weeks disappear.

And suddenly you’re texting:

How has it been this long?!

I’ve stopped believing that meaningful friendship requires constant contact.

But I do think it requires reaching.

Send the text.

Invite her for coffee.

Walk together.

Tell someone you’re thinking about her.

Don’t wait until your house is clean enough to invite people over.

Don’t wait until life calms down.

Because I’m starting to suspect life doesn’t really calm down.

It just changes.

Maybe Connection Is Smaller Than We Think

When I think about the relationships I want with my daughters someday, I don’t think they’ll be built from one big conversation.

They’ll be built from thousands of tiny ones.

The car rides.

The late-night talks.

The kitchen conversations.

The inside jokes.

The hugs.

The apologies.

The times I listened.

The times I got it wrong and came back.

The same is probably true of marriage.

And friendship.

And family.

Maybe closeness isn’t something we create through grand gestures.

Maybe it’s something we build by continually saying:

I’m still here.

I’m listening.

You matter to me.

One Question I’ve Started Asking

Last week, I wrote about choosing three words for how we want our families to feel this season.

Mine were:

Connected. Peaceful. Joyful.

This week I’ve been thinking especially about that first word.

Connected.

And instead of adding another goal to my list, I’m asking myself one simple question:

Who needs a little more of me right now?

Not all of me.

Not forever.

Just a little more of my attention.

Maybe it’s one of my girls.

Maybe it’s my husband.

Maybe it’s a friend I keep meaning to call.

Maybe it’s someone sitting right beside me.

And maybe sometimes it’s me.

The Gift of Connection

Our calendars will probably stay full.

There will still be laundry.

There will still be practices and work and dinner and homework and emails and all the ordinary responsibilities of life.

I’m not trying to escape any of that.

I’m just trying not to let the logistics of loving people replace actually loving them.

Because someday the schedules will change.

The backpacks won’t be by the door.

The practices will end.

The kids will drive themselves.

Our houses will probably be quieter than we can imagine right now.

And I don’t say that to make us sad about our children growing up.

I think there’s something beautiful about watching them become who they’re meant to be.

It just makes me want to notice the people who are here now.

To stay for the conversation.

To send the text.

To sit together a little longer.

To say yes when someone I love quietly asks:

Do you have a minute?

Because usually, those minutes don’t feel extraordinary while we’re living them.

But maybe they’re the ones we’ll remember.

A Little Intention for This Week

This week, don’t try to connect with everyone better.

Just choose one person.

Put your phone down.

Ask another question.

Take the walk.

Send the text.

Stay five minutes longer.

Nothing big.

Just a small way of saying:

I’m here. You matter to me.

And if you’re reading this, I’d love to hear from you:

Where does connection happen most naturally in your family?

Around the dinner table? In the car? At bedtime? On walks?

Maybe sharing our ordinary ideas will help another woman notice some of the connection that’s already hiding inside her days.

Here’s to the people who make our ordinary lives mean so much.

xoxo,
Jen