Spending Time Wisely

Dear Jack,

Before I had you and your sister, I would sleep half of the summer away and spend the rest on television, video games, and sometimes a good book.

That first summer with your sister, I found it difficult not to do the same. She was only six months old and I could sleep when she did and while we did swim lessons and at least one trip to Houston, mostly we lazed away the summer. The next summer with her, she was 18 months old and keeping her busy was important, so I made plans to do things at least twice a week and then she went to day care for a day or two a week and once again I slept or watched television. The summer after you came along, though, was a whole new ballgame. I was determined not to let having a second child slow down our family. I wanted to show both of you that I could do for two and not let either of you shortchange the other. That summer, we did a lot. I think the goal was getting out of the house at least two times a week with the other three days sit around and nurse days for you.

It has now evolved to a system where I like to have a plan and a purpose for every day. Sometimes our plan may just be for the morning and the rest of the day we can be lazy and do nothing. Sometimes the plan is to do nothing... I think I do actually have "recover from Houston trip" on the calendar. But we have a plan and while we may not stick to it exactly, it will keep the summer days from slipping through our hands.

Because that's how the time is going right now... through my fingers like sand in an hour glass. I want it to slow down. I want to be able to turn back the clock and revisit the golden hours of your babyhood. I want a "pause" button when you are grinning from ear to ear with a toddler level of enthusiasm that I am afraid you will soon outgrow. But I can't have any of that. So I just make sure that every single day is worth its sand.

Today we went to the Children's Museum.

You tested to see if pigs could fly, and if they did, what size parachute would work best.

You tried using scissors for the first time. I am always taken in by the phase in which the mouth is connected to the scissors and therefore must open and close in conjuncture. All children seem to go through it; it must be a similar neural path.

You played some drums at the Mi Familia exhibit.

You (well, mostly me, but it was your idea) turned some tubes into a short sword.

And none of this shows some secret Father's Day work we did today. It was a busy day. It was a tiring day. And just after your not-nap, it was a frustrating day. But it was not a wasted day. Not at all.

It was worth every grain, I think.

Love,
Mom