Free Fifteen plan offers a short, relaxing break

People must be willing to find the time, an expert says.
By LESLIE GARCIA
KNIGHT RIDDER NEWSPAPERS
For a long time, my son and I knew -- though we didn't have a name for it yet -- that we needed Free Fifteen.
On the days I worked, I'd pick up Charlie from the extended-day program at his school. We'd fight traffic home, come through the door with supper to make, a dog to feed, a cat litter box to empty, maybe homework to finish, tomorrow to think about.
When he'd ask, as soon as we walked inside, "Can I watch TV?" I sometimes didn't bite my tongue fast enough, going on my tirade about all we had to do in such a short period of time.
And then one day, the whole inanity of the craziness hit me. Why does this part of the day, this time we're finally home, have to be such a witching hour? What was the point of hanging the "My Home, My Sanctuary" sign in the kitchen if we look at our house as anything but peaceful?
So we instituted Free Fifteen. The name popped into my head, and it stuck. Every day -- OK, after the dog's fed, the litter box emptied, supper at least started and homework almost complete -- Charlie and I have 15 minutes to do what we want.
He usually plays on his Game Boy or watches Cartoon Network. I drink my daily Diet Coke and work the crossword puzzle.
We treasure Free Fifteen. It has become our oasis in a hectic day, our drawbridge between school and home, between work and home. We like it so much, we don't stop on weekends. Nor will Free Fifteen stop now that summer's here.
Finding time
Some days, I admit, it's after supper before we have Free Fifteen. I'll almost forget about it, but Charlie begs me, "Can't we just have Free Ten? Free Five?"
We need it. You need it. We all need it.
But, says Dallas psychologist Susan Sturdivant, we're not always willing to find that spot of time. Or if we do, to give it to ourselves.
"I think it's part of the American character that we're so oriented to getting things done, we think if we're accomplishing tangible things we can see, that we're doing the right thing," says Sturdivant, a licensed professional counselor in private practice.
"To stop and decompress and let things slow down seems like doing nothing." And doing nothing is perceived as a bad thing, she says.
But for the sake of our well-being, it's a necessity.
"It's not a luxury," says Sturdivant. "It's not something you do after all the work is done. It's maintenance, self-maintenance, to keep yourself in good running order."
Once we've established the habit, life feels smoother, she says.
"The essential thing about the concept of balance is assigning importance to it," says Sturdivant, who finds the peace of balance through needlepoint.
"What we tend to do is keep going till we drop. ... It's much more efficient to do those relatively brief periods of time, to energize yourself with quiet."
After Free Fifteen, I do feel refreshed. I can tell Charlie does, too. When the timer goes off ... well, I'd love to say he leaps to turn it off and sets the table.
But this child, who, if I whisper "campout" or "dessert" two rooms away will hear me, can't quite hear the incessant ding-ding-ding of the timer.
Maybe that means Free Fifteen is providing just the escape it's supposed to.