Billing Your Time at Home

I never thought I'd see it, at least not in a four-year old. Unpacking, a new home, a new life, etc., all mean one thing: more rules. There are more things you can't touch. There are more things you must do or not do to make a good impression on our new friends and neighbors or to give your exhausted parents a break. You are forced to go to a new school, a new congregation, a new bedroom (or to share it with your two emotional sisters while your parents paint yours). In short, you are not allowed to be a four-year old until we're ready. You must keep that energy bottled up. But when he got excited, he threw a piece of food. I took the rest and excused him from the table. Then, the look. Brow furrowed, chin down, eyes up and narrowly focused in on me. It didn't scare me, but it shocked me. I immediately began to miss the little boy he was prior to our move. I wondered if he'd ever come back or if the rebellious stage so famously attributed to teenage years really started this young and continued until the kids left home. All day long I thought about it. I really couldn't think about anything else. What had gone so wrong that our little boy could cast such a glance at me? My wife and I talked and decided we'd resent us too if someone had imposed so many rules on us, so many that it was just impossible to be ourselves. It was a good reminder to chill out and make the most of my precious time at home. My wife warned me recently, "Don't bill your time at home." I know that she meant I needed to drop my natural habit to stick to a schedule and a routine and enforce them strictly. But billing time has actually helped me recognize the value of my time. I can't waste a minute at work, yet there have been so many evenings where I chose to relax instead of wrestle, or sulk instead of swim. My greater awareness has prompted me to try and make more time by being less strict about bedtime. In other words, we use the same bed time, but we adjust to the needs of the kids. If they are still restless, we wrestle a little or play a little and maybe skip bath. If they seem like their crying for attention and acting a bit rambunctious or rebellious, we read more, talk more, sing more, and take our time. We let our daughter get out of bed to go potty three or four times, until she's to tired to pretend anymore. I think the necessity of billing so much time at work has actually made us better and improving our time together. It's shorter, but more meaningful. It's tougher, but we are more understanding and less critical. It's later and we're tired, but we have a stronger desire to be together. It's less time to talk, but we make greater efforts to build our relationships (nothing beats relaxing in a back float with your son or playing Motor Boat with the girls in the pool after dinner). It seems that just as sacrifice makes us closer (see previous post), so does the effort to make the most of our precious time. In reality, I do bill time at home, but not in the way my wife thought. If every six minutes is precious at work, they become even more so at home. I need to find a way to use every single one to serve my most important clients, my wife and kids. My bill? Well, it's a closer family. If I do my work right, the clients pay immediately.