Thirteen Minutes

I was sitting at a stoplight a few months ago and noticed another mom idiling next to me. Upon first glance, she looked like she was paying attention to the road. Only because my Jeep was taller than her sedan could I see that she was udderly distracted. She was sitting there, waiting for the light to turn green, with a hand-held breast pump shoved up her shirt.

Really. Udderly distracted.

Now Mimi, your mama knows about pumping breast milk in unpleasant places. Camping tents. Bathroom stalls. And yes, passenger seats. I’ve done it. But the driver's side? I wondered how busy her morning must have been in order to arrive at her current predicament. Lord help us.

We mamas have gotten so busy. No doubt by the time you’re on this adventure, you will be busy. I’m ashamed to admit that I have let a day go by without having a meaningful moment with you. I am conscience-stricken that on some days the most eye contact I've made with your baby sister may have been while she lay on the changing table. Do I really want her quality time to be associated with wiping poo?

Paster Joe once said something about this, and it's worth sharing. Not about changing diapers, but about relationships and time. The most important person in the world is the one we are with right now.  I’m with you everyday, but do I make you feel like our relationship matters?

That said, 2013 brings a resolution- thirteen minutes every day of twenty thirteen. I pretty sure it’s how long this computer takes to boot. It also happens to be how long it takes me to brush my teeth, shower, shave my legs, get dressed and put make-up on.  It’s about how long it takes me to recite the book of James…but that’s another blog. With intent, much can be accomplished in thirteen minutes.

With the dawn of twenty-thirteen breaking, I’ve resolved to spending at least thirteen minutes a day with you. We can do whatever you want, but homework doesn’t count. Neither brushing your teeth nor combing your hair.  Maybe we’ll draw a picture, just you and me. For Baby M, I’ll sing timeless nursery rhymes, without getting up ever thirty seconds. Maybe for Beau I’ll stomp my feet and chase him as he squeals in delight. It matters less what we are accomplishing, and more that you feel like in that moment, you are the most important person in the world.

Why? Because relationships matter. In our world of technological separation anxiety, relationships matter more than ever. Taking the time to be with you every single day, matters.

Lord help me never act like I am too busy, lest I end up pumping on the corner of Alberta and Francis.