On a recent afternoon post-school pickup with my son, he wanted to take a bit of a detour in order to walk home side-by-side with his friend. My mind immediately started doing mental calculations. I have to pick up his brother from daycare, make dinner, prod my child to do his homework, but OK! If we walk just one block in the wrong direction, then course-correct a few blocks later, we won’t sacrifice too much time. Done.
But as I chatted away with his bestie’s mom, things took a turn. Our two boys suddenly found a couple of super cool sticks (a rarity on a Brooklyn sidewalk) and paused to begin chiseling away at a few epic mounds of icy snowfall. “We’re carving rocks!” they shouted ahead. “Come on, kids!” I encouraged, gently at first. But soon I was applying more pressure: “We need to pick up your brother. I need you to start walking…now.” (I wasn’t yelling, just using the sternest public-facing mom voice I could muster.)
This is also the exact moment I joked with my friend: “So much for slow parenting, I guess.” Externally, I was laughing, but inside, I felt nothing but mom guilt.
What Is Slow Parenting?
At its core, slow parenting is defined rather simply: It’s centered around the art of slowing down. Less plans, less extracurricular activities—the goal instead is to let kids play, explore and experience the world at their own pace. Think of it this way: Grown-ups are always rushing and pressed for time. Rather than pressuring kids to match our rhythm, slow parenting encourages us to make an effort to match theirs, prioritizing quality over quantity and being present and intentional above all else.
In fact, the slow parenting movement is so popular, searches for “slow motherhood” saw a 310 percent increase in growth for 2026, according to Pinterest’s first-ever Parenting Trend Report.
Here’s Why It’s Unrealistic
As a movement, slow parenting is beautiful in theory, but in practice it’s something else. Don’t get me wrong: I’d love to celebrate the beauty that is two kids carving out imaginary ice rocks in the freshly fallen Brooklyn snow, but at 5 p.m. on a weeknight, the realities of child-rearing (especially in a world with limited and expensive childcare options) rear their ugly head.
After all, if I’m late to daycare pickup, I pay overtime; if I don’t get dinner on the table on time, homework is delayed, and thus, so is bedtime. Working full-time adds to the pressure: Unless I outsource the laundry, the meal prep and the actual meal making, I’ve got to find time for it all, on top of being accountable to every paycheck-driven deadline, not to mention keeping tabs on the school emails, the doctor’s appointments and summer camp bookings. It’s a lot.
In order to stay on top of it all, I find myself facing frequent moments where I have to hurry my son along; also, a need to over-schedule his time. Of course, I would love to give my kid time to go at their own pace and stumble upon their own interests as they arise. But keeping an iron-clad routine that inevitably exposes my kid to soccer practice on one day and sculpture making on another serves a dual purpose: It bridges the childcare gap when moms are under maximum pressure and there are a million moving parts.
BTW, boundary-setting is another piece that’s inherent to the slow parenting movement and one that has me scratching my head. It dovetails with ‘gentle parenting’—the idea that respect, communication and empathy (no threats or yelling) should always come first. Slow parenting, in theory, yields more time to see this through and, most importantly, hold the line. But, again, with all that parents are juggling these days, sometimes survival mode—i.e. caving to avoid the power struggle—has to kick in. (No, this doesn’t make me a bad parent, per Psychology Today.)
Don’t Get Me Wrong—I Love the Movement
I get it, life increasingly is over-scheduled—not just for parents, but for kids, too. But unless we want to address the systemic problems of way-too-expensive childcare and the rising costs of inflation that make the cost of living sky-high, too, slowing down and juggling less in order to stay more present with our kids still feels aspirational to me.
In a perfect world, motherhood shouldn’t be rushed. It would be a dream to release the pressure valve that materializes as the mental load so that family logistics didn’t feel like a cornerstone of every mom’s brain. After all, the quiet, unrushed moments are my favorite moments; they remind me why I became a parent in the first place. I truly enjoy my kids and the effort that goes into raising them. It’s the greatest privilege of my life.
All I’m saying is that moms need a bit more backup in order for slow parenting to authentically be carried out. (A rich partner? A trust fund? Speaking of privilege, it really does feel like a movement born from that.)
There Are a Few Intentional Changes I’d Like to Make
Like I said, this doesn’t mean I’m rejecting slow parenting; I aspire to achieve it—realistically. There are things I can do right now to take steps in the right direction. For one thing, I can remove things that zap my attention (a constantly pinging phone on the walk home from school, channeling confidence when it comes to saying ‘no’ to things that aren’t worth my time). I like the idea of deliberately resisting the noise, but again, that has to be within reason. (If I have to take a work call from the playground, so be it.)
Additionally, I can be more intentional about dedicating reliable space for family time. Just this week, I talked to my husband about putting our phones on the charger between 5:30 p.m. and 7:30 p.m. every night in order to be more present and attentive with our kids. Or making every Sunday a ‘yes’ day for our children and seeing where it leads. (Again, within reason.)
At the end of the day, it does matter that I notice the good stuff. My 16-month-old’s effort to form words, which results in the most adorable amalgamations. My 8-year-old’s burgeoning efforts at friendship and kindness. (He really notices people and their interests—it’s the sweetest and something I never want to miss.)
But if slow parenting is the exception and not the rule in my household, that’s OK, too.
