Too Little Time, Always
Nothing Special Can Be Special
There was a day last week, where over the course of 24 hours, I saw my daughter for exactly 90 minutes. Between our school and work schedules not overlapping and drive times, that’s what it came to.
I’ve made it a priority to make every effort to, at the very least, be home before she goes to sleep. I want her to fall asleep knowing I’m in the house. And I generally drive her to school in the mornings, so I had that time with her as well.
But that was it. Some breakfast time to calibrate our days ahead, about ten minutes in the car to play her some rock and roll to get her day started and maybe, if I’m lucky, 10-15 minutes to hang out at night and read with her. And that’s also about how much time that day I had with my wife.
That’s not every day, thankfully. If it were I’d have to make some drastic changes. But it is annoying/depressing. It’s possible we’re at the half way point now of Little Bean’s journey with us, or at least with us in/at our home, her original home. You know what I’m saying.
I didn’t move out on my own until I was 24, and my dad wasn’t kicking me out. I could have stayed longer. And I suppose that’s part of the equation, isn’t it? That’s a parenting result you shoot for - that your kid doesn’t want to leave. I’m befuddled by parents who joke about kicking their kids out of the house on their 18th birthday. Is that a thing? Why would you want that to happen?
Anyway, we’ll have time together this weekend, my daughter and I. We have nearly 50 books to sign and pack to ship out to readers as our newest field guide, More NH Rocks That Rock: Memorial Stones, launches on Monday. We’ll spread out, get out the pens and markers, put on some good music and hang. Nothing special. But we’ll all be together.
Then on Tuesday mroning, I’ll take her with me to the post office, and together we’ll mail the books out into the world. Maybe on Monday, we’ll all do something crazy like go for a hike or walk the dog together. In the end, the actual amount of time we have together is likely not as important as first, recognizing how little time we actually have and second, making good use of it.
Even if it’s just packing books. Even if it’s just stopping at Micky D’s for a shake. Even if it’s just sitting there reading together. Maybe it’s especially those things.
I think it's a delicate balance: children not wanting to move out but knowing it's okay if they do, that you won't make them feel guilty about it. My mother and grandmother made us feel guilty about even considering moving out (possibly due to trauma from losses earlier in their lives, but that's another story). Perhaps making sure children know you love and accept them no matter what is the goal?
The family dynamic changes when they can drive a car...not in a negative way...it just changes, All of a sudden those times you spent together become that much more special.