The clock in Jeff's car glows 6:40 P.M. as he rolls into the driveway after
another long and tiring day at work. He opens the door to his home with a
weary sigh and drops the mail next to the answering machine, which is
blinking in that incessant, anxious way that demands listening. All he wants
is a relaxing evening with no bosses, clients, or coworkers to please.
He peeks into his wife's home office and greets her warmly. As they chat
about their day, she asks if he'd mind fixing dinner so she can finish up a
few things. "No problem," he assures her. Before heading to the kitchen, he
pauses to savor a moment's peace, silently planning out the next few hours:
check the mail, listen to messages, take a nice hot shower, change into
sweats, fix a quick dinner . . .
"Hi, Daddy! Play with me?" Snapped out of his reverie, Jeff puts on a smile
and bends to wrap a hug around the giggling little angel with the hopeful
eyes. He twirls her around in big circles and plants kisses on her nose.
"Hey, my little Lily-flower!" he croons. He buries his nose in her soft
hair, loving the little-child feel and scent of her. Laughing with glee,
Lily cherishes these sparkling moments in her daddy's arms; craving more,
she implores, "Play with me?"
"Hey, punkin', I have some things to do; then we'll play later."
"Just a little while, Daddy?" she pleads with a smile. But looking at his
face, she suddenly knows he'd never drop everything just for some silly
play, but she can't help asking one last time. When the expected answer
comes, she wanders off resignedly to watch the TV show that's always on at
this time, always on for her when Daddy's not.
Lily watches her program, all the while counting the minutes on the clock.
Jeff loses himself in the mail, the newspaper, and the answering machine,
looking forward to the completion of all his daily responsibilities so that
he can play with his daughter. After some time on the computer reading
E-mail, he trudges upstairs, loosening his tie. He can almost feel the
steamy warmth of the shower, the comfort of those old sweats, the . . .
wait, what is this?
He turns to find a beaming little girl, who'd sneaked up the stairs behind
him, given away by the soft thumping of her tiny feet. She musters all the
vocal sweetness that she imagines a good girl to have and asks, "Can we play
now, Daddy?" She doesn't want to bother him, doesn't want to pester. She
just wants him close to her, laughing his silly laugh just for her.
What Jeff hears is persistence-a trait he will someday appreciate in her as
an adult, but one that annoys him today. So, with a ruffle of her hair, he
dismisses her with strained patience. "In a little bit, Lily. Why don't you
go ask Mommy if she can play with you now?"
Not so easily put off, she is in position at the bottom of the stairs when
he descends some time later. Her little face is fairly bursting with the
effort of holding back her request. She doesn't want to annoy him, doesn't
want to be inconvenient, doesn't want to be bad-and so, says nothing, hoping
he'll remember his promise to play "later."
But he doesn't.
"Ready for some dinner?" he asks, walking quickly past her in an effort to
stave off a few repeats of her "Want to play?" chorus. He enters the kitchen
and begins pulling items from the refrigerator. Just then, the telephone
rings, and little ears listen-as they always do-as Jeff answers. "Hello?
Hey, Steven. How are ya? Great. Did you catch the game Sunday? I can't
believe he missed that play . . . " And so he is lost to her again, this
time to adult conversation, phone tucked between ear and shoulder.
Maybe if I'm just quiet and smile real big, Lily thinks. So she looks up at
him with every fiber of her being poured into her smile, every good thing in
her soul spilling from her eyes. Still on the phone, her daddy smiles back
vacantly and plops a plate down for his daughter, then disappears into his
wife's office with a plate for her, too. Lily's best smile fades as she
quietly eats her dinner to the hum of Daddy's voice on the phone.
Afterward, of course, the parents are busy. There's dinner to be cleaned up,
garbage to be taken out, bills to pay . . . And all the while, Jeff's little
one-who naturally will not be little forever-patiently and proudly waits
beside her latest Lego masterpiece. She just knows he'll notice it soon. She
knows it's the marvel of engineering brilliance sure to draw him into her
world. But the doorbell rings, and Jeff strides right past her to answer.
Perhaps after the visitor leaves, she wonders . . .
It's Rahul, their neighbor. He needs help getting his lawn tractor started.
"Hate to bother you, Jeff, but you think you might have a second to look at
it?"
"Of course," Jeff replies, his thoughts registering the day last week when
Rahul was there at 6:00 A.M. to jump start Jeff's car. "That's what good
neighbors are for."
After letting his wife know where he's bound, he leans down to plant kisses
on his daughter's soft cheeks. "Be right back, punkin'," he says. And he
leaves too quickly to notice the silent tears that begin to run down those
same cheeks so hastily kissed, soft cheeks that are soon buried in pillows.
When Jeff returns, she is asleep, dreaming of moving out and becoming a
neighbor who could ring the doorbell, call Daddy on the phone, and send
E-mails to him.
The Hidden Message
"You are not as important to me as the mail, the messages, the dinner, the
phone call or the neighbor. I love you, but I'm too busy for you-and there's
always later, there's always tomorrow."
Think About It
Children perceive time, and what we do with it, differently from the way
adults do. By about age thirty, we adults barely notice the passing of mere
seconds. In the currency of time, they're pennies, hardly able to buy
anything of value. For little ones, however, every moment is weighty with
possibility and so passes heavily and slowly. Consider, for instance, the
evening we just witnessed-it passed particularly slowly for the little girl
but blew past the man who is her father.
Seconds become minutes, of course, and minutes become hours. Almost
imperceptibly, hours become decades. One day, Jeff may indeed turn around to
play with his little girl, only to find a young woman too busy tending her
own life to notice-after all, she has learned by his example. What a common
tragedy! Ask any parent of grown children, and he or she invariably will
attest to how fast it all goes. As the popular maxim forewarns: One comment
you'll never hear on a person's deathbed is "I wish I'd have put in more
overtime." Instead, we all know the final plea is for more time with those
whose love fills and sustains us. The hard truth is that we have only a
relatively small sliver of time in which to give our children the gifts of
our experience, patience, wisdom, and heart.
Naturally, obligations intrude on our every day. We perceive these
obligations from an adult point of view, sorting through them, prioritizing
as we go. We give a potential interruption to our mental calendars a quick
once-over and make a snap decision: adjust the plan, or stick to it? But
however we triage the callings in our lives, time marches on. The work gets
done. The meals get prepared. The house gets cleaned. Things work out. Of
necessity, we allot time for the chores that keep us fed, clothed, clean;
these things push themselves into our plans by their very nature. Other
items seize our attention with their urgency-a flashing message machine, a
ringing phone, a buzzing doorbell. Certain activities, however, don't call
to us so loudly. Yet, these can have an impact more profound than all the
others combined: activities such as walking in a park, visiting relatives,
tossing a baseball with a child.or building a Lego city. These are the
things that build up a soul.
What would happen if, today, all parents made their children their top
priority? Nowadays, we so often complain about teenagers and their lack of
respect for adults, and we worry about the anger and lack of direction that
seems to plague them to the point of violence; yet. I meet many parents who
tell me that their teenagers are wonderful young people, and that they enjoy
them now, just as they always have. Therein lies an important lesson: We
need to begin, right now, at this very moment, to see each second as a gift,
as an opportunity to savor where we all are now- whether we do this by
playing, chatting, or simply being together with our children. In so doing,
we may weave a lifeline that just may continue to hold throughout the years.
When that Lego city gets built, so does the foundation to a future. And a
minute of time for a child will someday be worth its equivalent in hours to
the adult she becomes. The time we spend with our children now-nurturing,
teaching and loving them-is the substance that helps mold them into the
people that they will become.
Changes You Can Make
Review the priorities in your life, make a list of your top five, and begin
investing the bulk of your time and energy in those choices. If you are a
parent, your list-of course-should include your children. Keep your list of
five handy, and refer to it whenever a decision arises. Ask yourself, "Does
what I am doing, or about to do, fit into my list of priorities?"
Unlike much advice, this way of living is not "easier said than done." On
the contrary, it's "easier done than said"! You'll find that it doesn't take
hours to fill a child's need for attention. Sometimes fifteen minutes will
fill your child's cup-and then allow you to tend to your daily rituals
without that nagging sense of guilt, or that feeling that something
important is missing. In this story of Jeff and Lily, if he had dropped
everything upon his arrival home and given Lily thirty minutes of undivided
attention, he may have satisfied her need for his love. She might then have
been happy to scamper off and allow him to get to his business, or perhaps
trailed along with him letting their connection linger throughout the
evening.
Of course, some daily tasks must be done regardless of their placement of
your list. The laundry would definitely not be in my top five, but it still
needs to be done! However, having your list will ensure that these
"maintenance'' tasks are done with the proper acknowledgement of their
importance. This means that I may decide that a game of Monopoly with my
children now is worth postponing the laundry until after they've gone to
bed.
As for those must-do tasks, some can be undertaken with a child included as
helper or simply as company-a three-year-old can sit beside you with her
plastic kitchen set "preparing" her own dinner, as you prepare dinner for
the family; a five-year-old can sort socks or fold hand towels as you fold
the other laundry; a seven-year-old can accompany you on your round of
errands. In each case, you will most likely enjoy the time talking together.
When you decide that your family and your children are your priority, and
that you want, and need, to spend more time with them, your daily decisions
will become easier. You may even begin to ascertain that some goals you had
rated as "top priority" are supremely unimportant. And as a natural and
direct effect, these will fall away, leaving you with two undeniable gains:
a heightened and refined sense of values, and the freedom to pursue them.
(Excerpted with permission by NTC/Contemporary Publishing Group Inc. from
Hidden Messages - What Our Words and Actions are Really Telling Our Children
by Elizabeth Pantley, copyright 2001)
Elizabeth Pantley is the author of several books, including "Kid Cooperation", "Perfect Parenting, The Dictionary
of 1,000 Parenting Tips", and also "Hidden Messages", her most recent book. Introductions in all three of her books have been written by William Sears, MD.
Elizabeth is also president of Better Beginnings, Inc. A regular radio show guest, she has been quoted in Parents, Parenting, Redbook, Good Housekeeping, American Baby, Working Mother, and Woman's Day magazines.
Endorsements
"Elizabeth Pantley's new book is the wake-up call every parent needs, a
consciousness-raising journey through the small moments of parenthood. Each
chapter uses warmth, compassion, and humor to gently tweak the consciences
of even the best parents, and inspire them to raise their children in a more
sensitive manner."
-- William Sears, M.D. from the foreword
"A welcome guide for moms and dads-it not only enlightens you about doing
the right things, but also provides clear, easy ways to do it."
-- Janet Chan, Editor-in-Chief, Parenting Magazine
"As usual, Elizabeth Pantley offers a book that is respectful to parents,
clear and readable, and absolutely helpful."
-- Kathy Lynn, President, Parenting Today
"Through both laughter and tears, in each story you will see yourself, your
family, or simply someone you know. Read this book for sheer enjoyment, but
also read it for the lessons learned."
--Jill Lassaline, Creator and Editor, ParentsWorld.com
