Just a minute....

I would love to be able to say that my lack of posts is due to the fact that I have been letting other things go in order to make more time to play with my kids. That is not exactly the case and it is the source of much guilt for me.

I am the queen of...

"Wait just a minute."

"I'll be with you when I am done doing this."
"Give me two seconds."

"I have to get this done first."

All of these referring to things such as:

Folding laundry.

Putting laundry away.

Organizing a pantry.
Organizing a linen closet.
Organizing a playroom.

All things that are already probably overly organized for a normal person, but not well enough organized for me. All things that are much less important than playing with my kids.

Does it really matter that all the labels on the canned goods are facing out?

Or that all the pants are buttoned before throwing them into the laundry basket?

Is it really necessary that the toys be cleaned up the moment the kids are done playing with them?

Or that the floor under their eating table be swept up the moment they walk away from a meal?

I know that all of these things are COMPLETELY unnecessary, but my brain cannot wrap around the concept.

I am the queen of "Sweating the small stuff," and I can't figure out how to fix the problem.

Especially when I am suffering from PMS!

Why do I care about all of these things? I really couldn't tell you.

It's just part of my genetic make-up. Me in a disorganized house is like a fish out of water. I flop about trying to survive when I'm in the midst of disarray.

And then, as if everyone knows I am struggling with this issue, I get an email like this to thump me on the head:

A man came home from work late, tired and irritated, to find his 5-year old son waiting for him at the door.

SON: 'Daddy, may I ask you a question?'

DAD: 'Yeah sure, what it is?' replied the man.

SON: 'Daddy, how much do you make an hour?'

DAD: 'That's none of your business. Why do you ask such a thing?' the man said angrily.

SON: 'I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?'

DAD: 'If you must know, I make $50 an hour.'

SON: 'Oh,' the little boy replied, with his head down. 'Daddy, may I please borrow $25?'

The father was furious, 'If the only reason you asked that is so you can borrow some money to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about why you are being so selfish. I don't work hard everyday for such childish frivolity.'

The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door.The man sat down and started to get even angrier about the little boy's questions. How dare he ask such questions only to get some money? After about an hour or so, the man had calmed down , and started to think: Maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that $25.00 and he really didn't ask for money very often. The man went to the door of the little boy's room and opened the door.

'Are you asleep, son?' He asked.

'No daddy, I'm awake,' replied the boy.

'I've been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier' said the man. 'It's been a long day and I took out my aggravation on you. Here's the $25 you asked for.'

The little boy sat straight up, smiling.

'Oh, thank you daddy!' he yelled. Then, reaching under his pillow he pulled out some crumpled up bills. The man saw that the boy already had money, started to get angry again. The little boy slowly counted out his money, and then looked up at his father.

'Why do you want more money if you already have some?' the father grumbled.

'Because I didn't have enough, but now I do,' the little boy replied. 'Daddy, I have $50 now. Can I buy an hour of your time? Please come home early tomorrow. I would like to have dinner with you.'

The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little son, and he begged for his forgiveness.

And just the other day my Isaac asked me to put a deck of cards into the box for him and I automatically replied while folding a shirt out of the drier, "Sure, Isaac. Set it right there and I'll do it in a second."

Twenty minutes later he returned to the laundry room to retrieve his boxed cards, only to find them still scattered about. He scouted me out to ask me, "Mom? Do you ever really listen to what I say? I asked you nicely to help me put my cards away and you didn't do it."

Guilty. I'm guilty as charged by my 5 year old son. And by my 5 year old daughters and my 3 1/2 year old daughter. Guilty!

But tomorrow is a new day and this is a new year.

I plan to spend more time in 0-9, letting the small stuff go, and truly enjoying the blessings that have been entrusted to me!

I'm working and telling the laundry, the floors, the bedrooms, this whole house,

"Wait just minute."

"I'll be with you when I'm done playing with my kids."

"Give me 5 minutes."

"I have to enjoy my kids first!"

Minutes turn to hours, hours to days, and days to years. It is all time that can never be replayed and I'm going to work diligently on cherishing every-single-moment!