Hi, friend -

There's a quick bit of medical stuff in the first part of this email. You'll read neither gore nor a tragic ending, but I wanted to warn you because I don't like to spring that stuff on people.

Since 2023 treated us to mom's two big falls, my broken ankle, and my husband's Christmas Eve argument with a power tool (he's fine), I was banking on 2024 offering a reprieve from medical emergencies.

NARRATOR: 2024 doesn't believe in reprieves.

She's okay now, but last week my eldest kid was decidedly NOT okay.

Think 5:17 am call from my son-in-law... coma... ventilator... intensive care. It was the scariest 8 days of my 5+ decades. Thankfully, my kid's fully recovered. Unlike my nervous system.

I shut down my business for the week (my clients are simply the most wonderful humans), and became the full-time caregiver for my granddaughter, Eloise. She's 3 years old and an entire delight.

That said, I've determined toddlers' primary purpose in the universe is to test every ounce of their grown-ups' patience.

Eloise requested the same books every day: The Napping House, I Want a Dog, and Grumpy Monkey.

She asked the same four questions incessantly: Why? Why not? What's that? What's next?

She required that we act out the same scenarios over and over and over again: The dinosaurs are going to school, my car is stuck, it's the baby's bedtime.

She despaired over everything, with "Ooooooh nooooooo" being her default response to such tragedies as dropped morsels of food (that she'd refused moments earlier), a knocked-over plastic hippo, her cup of milk being across the room instead of right in front of her.

But in the midst of all that patience-testing, Eloise taught me something...

Pep Talk #034: It's okay to slow down.

Nearly every entrepreneur I talk to feels like they're behind.

They work too many hours, too many days a week. (And when they're not working, they're thinking about working, which is the same thing as... working.) They play whack-a-mole with their to-do list. They're sure that if they pause for even an afternoon, the bottom's going to drop out of their business.

But that's just not true.

In fact, when you downshift from hyperspeed to "Will you play with me?" something incredible happens. You start noticing stuff you might've otherwise missed.

In addition to Eloise's four questions, she had a few phrases on repeat: "wow!" "Awwww, that's soooooo cuuuuuuute." "That's cool, man." She reintroduced me to wonder and joy and soak-it-all-up and let's-see-what-happens.

I can't say I didn't think at all about work over the last week. I have commitments to clients I care about, and those don't disappear just because 2024 turned to 2023 and said, "Hold my beer."

What I did, though, was decrease my pace enough to put down the whack-a-mole hammer and figure out what actually mattered in the moment. I bet you can do that, too.

Thanking the Universe for nurses who bark at doctors who are in too big of a hurry,

Kelley

P.S. Slowing down isn't necessarily the same thing as rest (which you also need). You can still work... just say "to hell with hectic" and find a pace that feels sustainable and gives you the bandwidth to see things in a new way. When we rush, we stay stuck in ruts. When we slow down, we notice new paths. Take your time. It's going to be okay.