A Waste of Time

Now that I've turned everyone away with my horrible feelings toward some babies (who makes fun of babies?!), let's move on . . .

I have an analogy to share something I learned today. It's kind of long, so stick with me.

Philip and I watched a movie last week (I won't share the title in case you watch it someday - I don't want to be a complete spoiler) which involved a young man who made a movie as a form of apology to the love of his life. It was your typical chick flick but with a twist. The movie he made was a re-telling of the downfall between he and his beloved. In his tale, the young Romeo was engaged to Girl A and was due to wed in three short weeks when Girl B entered the picture. As you can guess, there is an attraction, he breaks it off with Girl A, things get awkward with Girl B and by the end of his movie he has no girl at all. Meanwhile, in the audience of his movie is a female who looks remarkably similar to the actress cast as Girl A, leading one to assume that he is attempting to win back his former fiancee. Thus the twist in the end when we learn the girl in the theater with whom he wishes to reignite the relationship is, in actuality, Girl B. They kiss, the girls at home go "awww". The end.

What you thought was reality the entire movie, which was, truly, a little disappointing (because you totally love Girl B), turned out to be the complete opposite of what was truly real (in the fake sense because, well, it was a movie).

Today, for the first time since we got home from the hospital, I held my baby boy while he fell asleep on my chest as I lay on the couch and I let him rest there for over an hour while I simply enjoyed his presence. I had watched others do this very activity with my own son various times in the past weeks but was always too "busy" myself to relax and breathe him in. Every time he has been in my arms I have thought about the things I need to get done which cannot be accomplished with his being there - so I pass him off, set him down, get to work. I can't just waste time.

And today I noticed the twist - the assumption under which I'd been operating turns out to be, in actuality, the opposite of the truth. What I've thought to be the important work all along - getting the dishes done, checking e-mail, folding clothes, picking up toys - these tasks will always be there, an unending repetition of the same chores, day after day, week after week. My baby boy? Growing before my very eyes.

Almost two years ago I was depositing my darling daughter into her swing so she could nap while I did the dishes or mopped the floor. Guess what? The dishes are still dirty and the floor still has sticky spots (more so now that a certain toddler is toting around a leaky sippie cup of juice every now and then), but that darling daughter? She's running faster than I can keep up and falling asleep on my chest? Forget about it. I'm lucky if she even wants to sit in my lap for five minutes. And even then I often shut her down in favor of things I "need to get done."

But now I realize - treasuring my kids now, while they are still here with me - that's the important thing. All that other stuff? Well, when it comes between me and my two greatest jewels, it's simply a waste of time.