Making the most of our time

This is a recent article I wrote for our paper. There was a great response. I must say that I'm not perfect at this, but I do at least try to hang up the phone and really enjoy my kids--life just goes too fast.

Growing up, there were a few places you could always find me. One was on our trampoline; I felt free and strong all at the same time. Another spot was on the heating vent in our living room. No matter how cold it was outside, I could curl up over the vent with a blanket on top of me and read until I’d escaped our long, dreary winter. But, my very favorite place was in my parents’ cars.

In the front seat of my dad’s car I cried on his shoulder when I didn’t get a good part in the dance recital; he held me, told me he loved me and really meant it. It was there I learned I loved Cat Stevens and that my dad was cooler than any other dad because he sang AC/DC at the top of his lungs. It was where he would ask me about my life and where I felt like it was okay to tell him as we finished a greasy bag of Crazy Bread together before we got home for dinner.

In back seat of my mom’s car was where I was introduced to the Boxcar Children on long rides to California. It was where she quizzed me on spelling words as she rushed me to dance class. It was where she attempted to talk to me about sex. It was where she told me how disappointed she was that I would lie to her and sneak out of the house and put myself in danger. It was where I felt like a grown-up as we chatted about girls, boys, school, work, and the future. In her front seat was where I changed from being her little girl to her friend.

In the back seat of my minivan is where my boys have sung my favorite songs from childhood, where they have learned their ABC’s, where they have mastered addition and the color of stoplights. It’s where they ask me questions about God, about the world and nature, it’s where they listen to really cheesy made up stories that they can’t get enough of. It’s where they learn to share their space and time with each other.

As I drive the everyday routine of carpools and baseball practice, almost every car I see has a mom on the phone, a dad with a blackberry, kids playing Nintendo DS, 5 separate iPods or a TV with neon colored cartoons. The whole family is together but separate, each in a trance.

Because of our obsession with being entertained and occupied all the time, I wonder how many tears have been missed, how many conversations never happened, how many joys have gone unshared because everyone is always so busy doing the unimportant.

Families should bicker about what song to listen to; families should be a little bored together every now and then; parents should still have to sing to their kids or tell them a story to pass the time; siblings should be forced to talk about what is going on every once in awhile. Life is not always about getting what you want all the time, for parents or children. The path of least resistance rarely yields unforgettable moments.

In the car, a family is held hostage. Kids have to talk to their parents. Without intrusive technology there is no escape from togetherness, and in a day when it seems no one is ever going the same direction and everyone feels alone, parents should hold on to this one last sanctuary for as long as they can.

April 20th is National Unplug your Television week, but a better challenge is to unplug yourselves, at least while you are in the car. You may be surprised by the little people you get to know who have been riding in your backseat all these years.