Pouring out of the house. Late again. "I call shotgun!" "No, I'm the oldest! "Wahhhhh..." Really? For a trip to Target we need to fight this battle again? Frustration and irritation mounting, I pull open my door ready to blast the smirking teen, glowering preteen and whining child. Suddenly, "936" pops into my head and I stand there and say nothing.
936: the number of weeks we parents get from birth to graduation. That's it. Only 936 weeks before we launch them into the world. At a recent conference, the speaker spoke on the urgency to be intentional and present every day; because we will blink and suddenly the count will be 715 weeks, 345, 120, 15, 2, 1 – "Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!" and off they go to college or life.
Intentionality is not a choice; it is a necessity. What we do with, and for, our kids matters. Saying "yes" matters. Play matters. Love matters. Because when you only have 936 weeks, every moment counts in parenting.
"Hey guys," I say, sliding into my seat and exhaling. "Think we can make a plan instead of war next time?" Time's too short for war.
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