Big Boy's Pocket

Today, two things happened: Big Boy put his own socks on for the first time – yippee! – and later, in the car, he told me he had time in his pocket.

The quick consecutive occurrence of these two things got me thinking. I often feel rushed and frazzled as I move through each day. I’m a regular laundry-washing-and-folding conveyer belt, carpet vacuumer and a toy picker-upper. I’m scheduling appointments while I’m scribbling bill payments. I’m nursing an infant while making pb and j for a toddler.

So today, after Big Boy had finally succeeded in getting his socks on, we were driving (in a rush) to the grocery store. He spotted a restaurant that has an indoor play area and asked if we could go there.

I told him, “Maybe later, if we have time.” He squirmed around in his seat, digging his hand into his pocket, and then pulled out something neither of us could see.
“I have time, Mommy,” he said, holding his hand up for me to see. “Right here! We can go! I have time!”

For some reason, I suddenly felt very sad. Nobody can just pull time out of his pocket. So while I’m rushing to and fro, trying to keep the house clean and the laundry done, my little boy is learning to put on his socks and make a very tall block tower.

But I can’t get this time back. He’ll never be 2 again, struggling to get his shirt on right and his undies on frontwards, and rejoicing in getting his sock on over that darn pinky toe. Sure, 10 years from now, he will have different challenges and successes. But he’ll be in school and at sports practice and I won’t have a front row seat to these things that happen in his life.

So I have resolved to spend more time focusing on my boys and the little, yet amazing things they accomplish each day, whether it’s getting socks on or sitting up. That other stuff can wait (as long as we have clean underwear). And when somebody figures out how to get more time, I just might start to worry about the dishes.