Finite
I am angry. I have had enough. I have had enough for my children. The one thing we will not get any more of is time. It’s a finite resource and none of us know how much we have. I have become so very aware of that in the last few years—since having a 4th child, working full time with a traveling husband, my time is extremely precious. Most precious is time to myself. Time where no one else is demanding, asking, talking, pulling or otherwise needing my attention. Time when I have no one and nothing to answer to by myself. In that most precious time, I’ve declined phone calls from people I love. Not because I don’t want to talk to them but because I don’t want to give up my time. I’ve turned off notifications. I’ve put down my phone. None of those things are important enough to relinquish my time. I won’t say I’m always doing something productive or even something anyone else would consider worthwhile. What I think I like most is just that it’s mine. Mine to spend however I want. And I have to spend it. I can’t save it. Tomorrow, it will be gone. All I have is today—this moment. When it’s gone, it’s gone.
I want desperately to convey this sense of scarcity of time
to my children. Especially my
daughters. Not because they’re girls but
because they’re old enough to have some level of responsibilities towards
others—even if it’s just their future selves.
(Study hard. Homework benefits
the student, not the teacher.) It seems
at every turn, someone is trying to demand more and more of their time. More sports.
More clubs. More campouts. More meetings. More more more. And for some reason, they are obliged to do
it all. If they’re in scouts, they must
attend every meeting. If they’re on a
team, you must attend every practice and every game. Afterall, your team is counting on you! Play an instrument? You MUST attend EVERY rehearsal—no
exceptions. Sorry to anyone who dared to
have a birthday that falls on a rehearsal night. Heaven forbid we had any family plans for the
next 12 years.
How do I teach them to say no? I can say no for them—no you can’t go to
practice on Friday and games Saturday, Sunday and Wednesday. You have to choose 2. But then I’m the “bad guy”. Mom says I can’t go. The daggers shooting at me from coaches, the
shot across the bow from my child who grumbles at dinner “you said I had to say
no”.
Several years ago one of my daughters decided to try her
hand at drama and signed up for the school play. Great.
Fine. Wonderful. She had 2 lines. TWO.
And for those 2 lines, she had practice every day after school for 2
hours. And then the week before the
play, it was up to 5. She went to school
in the morning and I picked her up at 8pm.
“What about dinner?” I say.
They’re eating while they rehearse.
I sat outside the school one evening waiting for her to come out. Finally at 8:30, she emerges. “Everyone wanted to practice one more time,”
she said. When I asked if she felt it
was necessary, she said no.
Another child has signed up for a traveling sports
team. I was honest with the coach when
he basically begged me to let her play. They needed one more girl on the team. I told him I wasn’t worried about the
cost. I was concerned about the
time. “It’s only Friday night practice
and a game on Saturday,” he assured
me. “Every Saturday?” He assured me she was not expected to play
every game. I reluctantly agreed. She already has scouts, youth group and track
starting in the spring. Today I got an
email with information about tonight’s practice and tomorrow’s game…and
Sunday’s game…and WEDNESDAY’S game.
Wednesday?? No one said anything
about Wednesday.
I have no sympathy for the adults running these
activities. What exactly are you trying
to accomplish? What could possibly be so
important that your activity must take precedence over EVERYTHING else. And by the way, if you’re going to schedule
“must-do” items, perhaps you could consult parents who might have other
commitments.
What I’m most worried about is that my children will
continue on feeling like they can not come up for air. That they must be so very scheduled in order
to be successful. Or that success in
these things is important enough to give up their time for.
Anyone who’s ever lost someone close to them would move the
world for more time with that person. It’s
the one thing we never know how much we have.
I don’t have an answer for this dilemma.
I don’t know how to change it.
Except to continuously beat the drum that time is precious. Time is finite. And for each of us, time is OURS.
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