I unplugged this weekend. No Twitter. No Facebook. No email. No texting. Virtually no tv.

I have a third-trimester-like-instinct to nest. I cannot stop my mind from thinking about preparing the house for warm weather, organizing the girls’ clothes, determining what we’ll be growing in the garden this year. Even more than addressing our home, there seems to be an impulse to ignore what is beyond our home. I have been doing so many things professionally that require me to step outside of the norm—presentations, late meetings, and a sustained outspokenness.

I’ve always been very willing to give every moment to my work. Respond to emails at midnight, undertake projects on the weekend. You name it, someone asked it and I responded with an emphatic yes.

Suddenly, as I see Finley catapulting from last baby to big girl, as Briar peers around corners at growing up, as Ave struggles to carve a place for herself and as I see how other people are spending their time, I want a taste of sacred time.

I want a weekend with my family. No work, no favors, no just-this-once.

I want to explore the backyard and take note of the buds springing from different tree limbs. I want to scrawl cheery notes on the driveway in bright chalk. I want to hold hands with Sean and feel the sun upon our skin. I want to see the look in my girls’ faces as their questions go unimpeded by cell phones and laptops.

The thing I realized this weekend was that creating this demarcation makes me better at both.

We get one life, call it short, call it wide open, but above all else, call it yours.