Just a Minute

I’m sick of it.  I’m sick of all the minutes I spend trying to complete all the insignificant, tedious chores I’ve allowed to take priority over my family.  My “just a minute” phrase slapped me in the face when I asked Molly to hand me a towel. “Just a minute”, she replied.

As I stood there, feeling like the worst, most neglecting mom to live, I decided to quit this rat race.  I’m giving up.  I might not be able to keep up with the endless laundry, I might not serve vegetables at dinner each night, I might walk away from the kitchen with pancake syrup still stuck to the counter, I might use a bath towel with toothpaste stuck to it and have Oreo’s smashed to the inside of the couch cushions. I have a new goal.  It’s not to care.  I want the “just a minute” mom to go away.  She’s annoying me.

I imagine someday when the kids are off at college, I’ll long for ‘just a minute’ of my kids to be eating at my table with Mike and I, even if it’s for fish sticks and tater tots.  

When all the baby dolls and Barbie dolls get packed up, I’ll kick myself for not taking ‘just a minute’ to play with them every chance I had. 

When Ross starts spending his free time hanging out with his friends, I’ll pray for “just a minute” of him following me around the house complaining of being bored and wish I had stopped folding the laundry long enough to play with him.

When my kids quit talking to me because I’m not cool anymore, I’ll wish for “just a minute” to sit down with them and really listen to them eagerly tell me every detail about their day, instead of checking my email’s at the same time.

This mama’s turning over a new leaf.  “Just a minute” is being replaced with “okay”.  The foundation's strong, I'm pretty sure the house won't fall apart without me.