I was talking to a co-worker yesterday morning and the conversation turned to weekend plans. We briefly discussed what our plans were and he stated that he was planning on spending some time with his son. Then he began to tell me about a story he'd heard one time that talked about a man who counted up the number of weekends his son had until he turned 18. For each of those weekends, the man put a marble in a jug and as each weekend came and went, he'd take a marble out.
I joked with my co-worker about how depressing that story was and I still think it's rather sad to think about. But I can't stop thinking about it. I thought about it this morning when I woke up to the sound of EJ playing in his crib. I thought about it as I was sleepily making my way to the kitchen to make breakfast. I thought about it as I unloaded the dishwasher.
In my house, the weekdays are so busy with getting homework done, books read, baths given, dinner made, laundry folded ... I rarely think about how quickly time is flying by. But on weekends, I continue the same break-neck pace. My kids are growing so fast and I don't take the time to enjoy their childhood. Bug will ask me to come jump on the trampoline with him and my usual response is, "Maybe later...let me fold these clothes." But how much longer is he going to ask me to play with him?
I haven't taken the time to count how many weekends are left until my kids are 18 and honestly, I doubt that I will. But I think I should take inventory of what is important on the weekends we do have. Don't you?
No comments:
Post a Comment