A few months ago, I took Emma to a birthday party at our local Aquatic Center. She had been SO excited for this party for weeks (thanks to an invitation that went out almost a month in advance. Who is organized enough to send invitations out a month in advance!?) She talked incessantly about the party – who she was going to swim with, which suit to wear, what games they were going to play . . . It was all she could think about for an entire month.
When the day of the party finally arrived, I drove her to the Aquatic Center. As we pulled into our parking spot, Emma sighed in the backseat. “Mom, I really hope that I don’t have a good time here today.”
Me: “Huh!?”
Emma: “You know . . . when you are having fun, time flies by so fast. And I don’t want this party to end, so I hope I don’t have fun. That way it will seem like it’s going slowly.”
She apparently inherited her logic gene from her father.
I’ve been thinking about her point, though. She has clued into something at the ripe ‘ol age of 6 that has taken me 30-some years to figure out: Time stops for no one. And once it's gone, there is no getting it back.
As a kid, my whole life centered around the One Big Question: What do you want to be when you grow up? I vacillated between being a taxi driver in New York or an international spy. In high school, I started seriously considering the options of sheepherding versus cut-throat corporate law. (Hey, I was keeping all my options open).
Even as a young parent, I seemed to focus an inordinate amount of time thinking about the future: When I don’t have a baby anymore, I can go back to school. Won’t it be nice when Jared is old enough to babysit? Think about all the traveling we can do when the kids are grown.
Recently, though, I’ve put a complete halt on that sort of thinking. Why?
When the day of the party finally arrived, I drove her to the Aquatic Center. As we pulled into our parking spot, Emma sighed in the backseat. “Mom, I really hope that I don’t have a good time here today.”
Me: “Huh!?”
Emma: “You know . . . when you are having fun, time flies by so fast. And I don’t want this party to end, so I hope I don’t have fun. That way it will seem like it’s going slowly.”
She apparently inherited her logic gene from her father.
I’ve been thinking about her point, though. She has clued into something at the ripe ‘ol age of 6 that has taken me 30-some years to figure out: Time stops for no one. And once it's gone, there is no getting it back.
As a kid, my whole life centered around the One Big Question: What do you want to be when you grow up? I vacillated between being a taxi driver in New York or an international spy. In high school, I started seriously considering the options of sheepherding versus cut-throat corporate law. (Hey, I was keeping all my options open).
Even as a young parent, I seemed to focus an inordinate amount of time thinking about the future: When I don’t have a baby anymore, I can go back to school. Won’t it be nice when Jared is old enough to babysit? Think about all the traveling we can do when the kids are grown.
Recently, though, I’ve put a complete halt on that sort of thinking. Why?
Because MY KIDS ARE GROWING UP! And I don’t like it.
I’m to the point now where I don’t even like to make short-term plans. I don’t even want to think about the fun things that we will do next summer, because here’s what happens: I plan something really fun, months and months in advance. I think about it, look forward to it . . . it seems so far away . . . and then, all of a sudden, WHAM! that fun thing is now. And those past months are gone for good.
Melodramatic, I know. When it comes to my kids, I can't help it sometimes.
So, whereas I used to live for the future, now I refuse to even acknowledge it. It’s all about the present. Right here. Right now. So don’t ask me what my plans are for the summer; I don’t want to think about it. I don’t even want to think about what’s for dinner tonight.
Right now, I’m just going to go play with my kids.
I’m to the point now where I don’t even like to make short-term plans. I don’t even want to think about the fun things that we will do next summer, because here’s what happens: I plan something really fun, months and months in advance. I think about it, look forward to it . . . it seems so far away . . . and then, all of a sudden, WHAM! that fun thing is now. And those past months are gone for good.
Melodramatic, I know. When it comes to my kids, I can't help it sometimes.
So, whereas I used to live for the future, now I refuse to even acknowledge it. It’s all about the present. Right here. Right now. So don’t ask me what my plans are for the summer; I don’t want to think about it. I don’t even want to think about what’s for dinner tonight.
Right now, I’m just going to go play with my kids.
Maybe she got her logic gene from me after all.
6 comments:
Great message for us all to remember!
I totally agree! I have been thinking some of the same things, especially as I watch Isaac grow and realize how much Gabe and Hannah have grown and changed in such a short time. I am always teasing them that I am going to stop feeding them so that they stay my little kids forever. :) I know that this time is so short in the span of our lives and I am just loving it so much! (well, at least most days) :o)
What a great post for me right now. Thank you for the perspective I needed!
Sheepherding? huh...can honestly say I have NEVER dreamed of being that when I grow up.
Adults must have alot of fun, cause time is going much faster now! They say the older you get the faster it goes!?!
Maybe you should just have anohter baby!
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