In Order of Importance

I think I have finally come to understand that having a small child means that everything you try to do gets broken up unto many smaller parts due to "interruption" by said child. What I mean to say is, I have been experiencing this and noticing it for nearly three years now, but I have only recently accepted that this is not a problem.

Generally, I'm a marathoner when it comes to tasks. When it comes time to put my catalogs together for work, I would normally procrastinate a bit and do just about everything that needed to be done in two or three 14+ hour days. When it comes time to do the spring cleanup in my yard, I would normally be outside for a whole day getting up all the old leaves and dead remnants of last year's garden and then it would be done. On another day, I might clean out the squirrel-ravaged garage, transplant perennials all over the place, and trim all the trees.

These days are gone. And while the last couple years I longed for uninterrupted time to get things done, especially outdoors, this year I have finally accepted that these tasks must be done a half-hour here, an hour there, stretched across perhaps two months rather than done in two days. And here's the crazy part: I have found that finally I really don't mind it this way.

On five or six different occasions for the last six weeks I have worked on the gardens and garage, cleaning up the detritus of winter. A bit here, a bit there. And I'm okay with that. It doesn't bother me when my son wakes up from his nap and my productive time is over. In fact, it usually seems like a fine time for a break with a boy who makes me laugh.

Rather than thinking of my son as interrupting my "real" life of work, keeping house, and hobbies, I've finally settled in to the right frame of mind, the one I should have had all along, that my son is life. He is not an add-on to my life but a central part of it. He's more important than the bulbs that are coming up. He's more important than the dress I'm sewing or the bedspread I'm quilting. He's more important than that sentence I was in the middle of writing. He's more important than my filthy garage. He's more important than the book I was reading.

Everything I do with my time can be taken up again if I get interrupted. I can pick up the needle, turn to the paragraph I was reading, start typing again. But my son and his relationship with me are always in the process of being formed. He needs my positive attention. Not to say that there are not times when he needs to learn patience and wait for me to finish something.

Of course learning that you are indeed not the center of the world is something all children (and many adults, I dare say) need to learn. But most of the time I need to be available to him. He is learning how to treat people by watching how people treat him. If I'm obviously put out that I have to stop my own activities in order to attend to his needs, won't he grow into a selfish adult who puts himself before others? Is this what I what for him? Of course not. I want him to value other people and to treat them well. I want him to have concern for others and to serve others. I can model that behavior for him in the way I act toward him and my husband, first and foremost, and then how I act toward others.

By my actions, I need to show him that people are more important than things. They are more important than lush lawns, pristine flowerbeds, clean cars, a dust-free home, or a perfectly-cooked meal. They are more important than a favorite TV show, a great play during a football game, a song on the radio, or all the other silly things we hush our kids in order to watch or hear.

I want my son to know that he is loved and that I like spending time with him. Because I really, really do.