The Red Ball

My daughter has Thursday off. When we talked the day before (yesterday), she was already planning the day around chores, errands, and the work she'll need to catch up on once she's back: not rest, and definitely not fun.

I told her she needed to take at least five minutes tomorrow and do something fun. And, because I don't do anything halfway (I am her mother after all), I told her to send me a picture as proof.

She balked. She's a professional photographer. Taking pictures is, quite literally, her job — and still, the idea of turning the camera toward her own five minutes of fun made her hesitate.

Last week, I was in Ocean City watching my sister give a conference presentation called "Juggling the Red Ball." She had a room full of leaders in the healthcare-for-seniors space tossing balls back and forth — staffing, families, financials, engagement, clinical well-being, operations, and the list goes on. I was her ball wrangler, running around to collect dropped balls and hand out new ones.

Then she told them: in the middle of all that, there's one ball you can't afford to drop. The red one. Fun.

I stood at the side of the room, nodding along, thinking about how true that was for the people she was talking to. It probably took me longer than it should have to realize I wasn't just agreeing on their behalf.

I run a business I built from scratch. I'm in a year-long training program on top of my regular narration work. I'm tracking toward 25 audiobook titles this year. And a few days after watching my sister teach a room full of strangers not to drop the red ball, I told my own daughter to take five minutes for herself, and she pushed back harder on documenting the fun than she ever has on doing the work.

I don't have a tidy ending for this one. I know the advice is right, because I gave it to someone I love and meant every word. I'm still waiting to see if she sends that picture. I'll keep you posted.

But knowing the person who raised her, I guess I don't have to ask where her drive comes from. As a diplomat, the line between work and personal life is thin, at best. Sometimes, even the "fun" events were actually "work." How much fun can you really have with your boss and your boss's boss right next to you?

I totally understand my daughter's perspective. She's 24 and has an amazing and insanely busy job. The hustle is real. But so are burnout, stress, and anxiety. I'm just hoping it doesn't take her another 25 years to figure out the value of fun, as her mother did.