everything that's on my mind
(as if there's not already enough people doing this)Thursday, October 13, 2005
Go back to your car now
I was reading Keith's post on his blog this week regarding his son. The phrase in his post that stuck with me was this: "While those moments last, they must be cherished." I may be repeating some of Keith's thoughts here, I don't know, but here's what spilled out as I considered cherishing moments with my own children.
My daughter still likes for me to walk her into school each morning. At her school in Alabama last year, I walked her inside every morning for the entire first semester. But after the first of the year, I began dropping her off. Of course, I dropped her off about 10 or 15 feet from the door.
At her school here in Little Rock, you can't drive right up next to the door, and the drop-off point is more like 100 feet or so from the door. So, she likes for me to walk with her inside, and I'm happy to do it. How long it will be before she allows me to drop her off, I don't know. How long before I'll want to stop walking inside with her will probably be even longer.
It was only last week that, when we were less than halfway to the door, a friend of hers came up and began walking alongside her. They began talking and it seemed she no longer knew I was there. About that time, she turned and said, "Dad, you can go back to your car now."
It made me laugh a little as I told her goodbye and headed back to my truck. But I realized that as she continues to grow up, she'll be more and more independent and won't need (or want) me to do as much for her anymore. It seems like yesterday that she was her brother's age - 18 months - walking around the house in diapers and running to meet me at the door when I came home from work. Now, I get a "Hey Daddy" and that's about it. The years are flying by - not fast enough for her, probably, as she desires to be more and more grown up, but way too fast for me.
It occurred to me recently that, with her at 6+ years old now, more than 1/3 of my time with my her living at home is now in the past. The thought, quite frankly, scares the hell out of me. What if I'm not doing a good job as a father? What do I need to do differently from now on? What can I improve on? What things am I doing right and how can I make sure that I continue to do them right?
I suspect there are many answers to those questions. I am still asking them and still trying to determine the answers that will serve our family best in the future. But most of all I want to be able to, every day, let both her and her brother know how much I love them no matter what, and that God feels the same way. I want to let them know how important they are to me and how proud of them I am. And I want to spend time with them while I still can, because I know before long, these days will be in the past, too. It's those times together that will produce the moments that I will cherish the most.
It would certainly be easier to drop my daughter off every morning, like so many parents do. I wouldn't have to get out of the truck and I could get to work a little earlier. But if I stopped walking her in each morning, it would mean a few less minutes I would have to spend with her each day. And I look forward to the memories that might be made during those few minutes, even if the memory is her telling me I can go back to my car now.
My daughter still likes for me to walk her into school each morning. At her school in Alabama last year, I walked her inside every morning for the entire first semester. But after the first of the year, I began dropping her off. Of course, I dropped her off about 10 or 15 feet from the door.
At her school here in Little Rock, you can't drive right up next to the door, and the drop-off point is more like 100 feet or so from the door. So, she likes for me to walk with her inside, and I'm happy to do it. How long it will be before she allows me to drop her off, I don't know. How long before I'll want to stop walking inside with her will probably be even longer.
It was only last week that, when we were less than halfway to the door, a friend of hers came up and began walking alongside her. They began talking and it seemed she no longer knew I was there. About that time, she turned and said, "Dad, you can go back to your car now."
It made me laugh a little as I told her goodbye and headed back to my truck. But I realized that as she continues to grow up, she'll be more and more independent and won't need (or want) me to do as much for her anymore. It seems like yesterday that she was her brother's age - 18 months - walking around the house in diapers and running to meet me at the door when I came home from work. Now, I get a "Hey Daddy" and that's about it. The years are flying by - not fast enough for her, probably, as she desires to be more and more grown up, but way too fast for me.
It occurred to me recently that, with her at 6+ years old now, more than 1/3 of my time with my her living at home is now in the past. The thought, quite frankly, scares the hell out of me. What if I'm not doing a good job as a father? What do I need to do differently from now on? What can I improve on? What things am I doing right and how can I make sure that I continue to do them right?
I suspect there are many answers to those questions. I am still asking them and still trying to determine the answers that will serve our family best in the future. But most of all I want to be able to, every day, let both her and her brother know how much I love them no matter what, and that God feels the same way. I want to let them know how important they are to me and how proud of them I am. And I want to spend time with them while I still can, because I know before long, these days will be in the past, too. It's those times together that will produce the moments that I will cherish the most.
It would certainly be easier to drop my daughter off every morning, like so many parents do. I wouldn't have to get out of the truck and I could get to work a little earlier. But if I stopped walking her in each morning, it would mean a few less minutes I would have to spend with her each day. And I look forward to the memories that might be made during those few minutes, even if the memory is her telling me I can go back to my car now.
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Doug -- I'm there with you. With four (ages 9, 7, 6, and 18 mo.) I have the same questions, thoughts and even fears. It truly is a scary, yet rewarding experience being a parent.
Who dat 'Doug'?
Thanks for the link, Greg ...
Man, you just made me realize that at 9 years old, my Laura's time living at home is about half over!
YIKES!
(Thought I saw you at a football game a week or so ago, but was distant and not sure ... I see you're back in LR!)
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Thanks for the link, Greg ...
Man, you just made me realize that at 9 years old, my Laura's time living at home is about half over!
YIKES!
(Thought I saw you at a football game a week or so ago, but was distant and not sure ... I see you're back in LR!)
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