treasure the doing more

I got home late from work tonight. Missed the boys and Dave by a few minutes, I think. They’re off to soccer practice and workout time at the Y with dad.

Though the September sun was still shining mad and hot just down the road, our house in the shadow of the woods was dark and cool.

When I opened the door, I noticed the dryer and dishwasher going. As I flipped on the lights, I saw the tidy kitchen and dining room. Elves. I’ve wanted them since I was a little girl. Best of all, was the distinct aroma of Pillsbury crescent rolls.

In wonder and delight, I opened the fridge. Yes, the boys had made dinner for themselves . . . and they saved a plate for me. Two pizza roll ups sitting on a plate with a little dish of marina, covered in cling wrap.  I called, just to be sure. Yes. They saved it for me.

It occurred to me, as I settled in on the couch in silence and put up my feet, that we’ve been parenting kids for twenty years.

As I bit into calorie-laden deliciousness, all the sleepless nights with the child who made them vanished. Well, technically they vanished a long time ago, along with the rest of my memory . . . But no. Actually, I remember the nights too well. Especially the year it seemed I sat upright all night, every night rocking, praying, singing, giving nebulizer treatments so the one who made these tasty treats could breathe.

Years ago, now. Fourteen. My third child. The one who introduced me to a new level of stress because for goodness’ sake, I only have two hands! How in the world am I supposed to hold onto the third one? The one who proved to me once and for all that I can’t do everything and expect to be good at it.

I left full-time career world when my oldest was born, wandering back in to education part-time here and there. But a few weeks after baby three was born, I realized I could not stay up all night with a sick baby, teach and go home to make dinner, do lesson plans, grade papers, and still have time for three kids.

This precious little boy who kept me awake at night, singing, rocking and praying took me to the absolute end of myself. He was the one that finally made me let go.

Nearly a year after he was born, sitting next to a bathtub of kids, I read an article that changed me.  “Goodbye Dr. Spock” by Anna Quindlen was printed in Newsweek in November of 2000.  I still have the article, water stains and all. These are the words that stayed:

I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.

Treasure the doing.

I took it to heart. I finally shelved the “how to be a perfect parent and have perfect kids” books and just plain parented. We cooked. We made messes. We had picnics. We went on adventures. We talked. We read stories. We made playdough. We painted. We spilled legos all over the floor and built things. We made towers and knocked them down. We sang. We banged on the piano. We had dance parties. We stayed up too late. We read all the books aloud.  We skipped school to play in the snow. We got lost. We planted seeds. We made cookies for the seasons and decorated them. We all went to swimming lessons together. We tried homeschooling. We prayed long prayers and asked God for things like trampolines. We sat in the back of rehearsals til we’d memorized every line. We stood on the sidelines of soccer games in pouring rain. We played “what’s next mother” to clean the house. We yelled, and laughed, and we let our cat have kittens. I didn’t even try to be successful at anything else, I didn’t have time.

When the kids were all in school, and Dave lost his job, I went back to work part-time and it took years for us to figure out a new rhythm. Seven years later, the house has decidedly lost the battle for my time and I let the kids watch way too much TV. But the boys clean, do laundry, cook. It’s wonderful. My house isn’t going to win any prizes, but it doesn’t really matter. We work together so we have time for each other.

* * * * *

I wrote all that a few weeks ago, and I’ve been thinking about it constantly. Somewhere over the past few years, I’ve lost a little of the fervor for living the current season of my life. Sometimes, it’s wall to wall crazy and I don’t have a moment of quiet til after midnight. Like today — which I will tell you about tomorrow.

Treasure the doing more than the getting done today. Every moment adds up to life.

Deb's signature for blog

P.S. That’s my 14 year old’s baby face. And I still kiss it every morning and every night.

1500 size Live the SeasonWhat’s your season? 

14 thoughts on “treasure the doing more

    1. It is, isn’t it? Sometimes, I get sad if I look too far out of my season, either forward or back. I love the big people my little ones have grown into every bit as much as when they were tiny — and more so, which is something I never thought possible when they were small.

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  1. Someday I will probably be where you are now… I mean I HAVE to get there EVENTUALLY RIGHT?! I am for sure guilty of wanting to get it done and not treasuring the doing. It’s a really hard lesson to learn and that’s why it’s so important to have people in our lives that have gone before, and also people who are currently doing what we’re doing and then eventually people who will come up after me. We’re just meant to be in relationships. So thanks for your words cause honestly a few quiet moments by myself eating dinner that someone else made for me sounds pretty dang amazing right now. 🙂

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    1. Eventually, yes. 🙂 Only rarely — like at big milestones — do I feel like rocking a baby was just yesterday. I feel the years of raising children. And you are so right, it’s really important to find people in your life that are farther down the road. I savor the perspective they give me.

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  2. Ahhhh, I so needed this! I’m one of those who definitely likes to have something done – checked off, crossed out, finis – and enjoying the “doing” is not what I’m usually focused on. Thanks so much for the timely reminder!

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  3. Oh I love this! As a (somewhat) new Empty Nester, this – even now – is such a great reminder! I am writing my 31 Days on Resting and one of the books I am reading while writing is The Rest of God by Mark Buchanan… in it he shares a story of when someone asked him what his biggest regret in life was. He surprised himself with the answer… “Hurrying”… he said he never added one good thing by hurrying and rushing through things! So much in agreement with what you wrote here! So glad I stopped by! Visiting from Anita’s link up today!

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  4. I LOVED this! My season is the half-empty-nest season. One fledgling struggling, so still in the nest. The other fully fledged and married and well on her way. I got to stay home with them for a few years when they were little, and my husband stayed home with them for a few years too–that got us through to kindergarten and first grade. I’m so glad we did that, because there’s something about knowing, really knowing your kids that makes parenting so much more fun and prepares you for the hard times. I’m also a teacher, so having summers free with them was always wonderful. Thanks for linking up at Inspire Me Mondays!

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    1. Thank you, Anita! And thank you also for sharing your season here. What an amazing thing that both of you had time with your kids at home. Thank you for hosting the linkup — I’m ready to go back and read some!

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