 Daddy
play with me...
In Hidden Messages: what our words and actions are really
telling our children Elizabeth Pantley scarily shows us that
children easily read beween the lines of what we say, as well as the non-verbal
messages we give out all the time! It's time to take stock and put our
children first she says....
The clock in Jeff's car glows 6:40 p.m. as he rolls into the driveway
after another long and tiring day at work. He opens the door to his home
with a weary sigh and drops the mail next to the answering machine, which
is blinking in that incessant, anxious way that demands listening. All
he wants is a relaxing evening with no bosses, clients, or coworkers to
please.
He peeks into his wife's home office and greets her warmly. As they chat
about their day, she asks if he'd mind fixing dinner so she can finish
up a few things. "No problem," he assures her. Before heading to the kitchen,
he pauses to savor a moment's peace, silently planning out the next few
hours: check the mail, listen to messages, take a nice hot shower, change
into sweats, fix a quick dinner…
"Hi, Daddy! Play with me?" Snapped out of his reverie, Jeff puts on a
smile and bends to wrap a hug around the giggling little angel with the
hopeful eyes. He twirls her around in big circles and plants kisses on
her nose. "Hey, my little Lily-flower!" he croons. He buries his nose
in her soft hair, loving the little-child feel and scent of her. Laughing
with glee, Lily cherishes these sparkling moments in her daddy's arms;
craving more, she implores, "Play with me?"
"Hey, punkin', I have some things to do; then we'll play later."
"Just a little while, Daddy?" she pleads with a smile. But looking at
his face, she suddenly knows he'd never drop everything just for some
silly play, but she can't help asking one last time. When the expected
answer comes, she wanders off resignedly to watch the TV show that's always
on at this time, always on for her when Daddy's not.
Lily watches her program, all the while counting the minutes on the clock.
Jeff loses himself in the mail, the newspaper, and the answering machine,
looking forward to the completion of all his daily responsibilities so
that he can play with his daughter. After some time on the computer reading
e-mail, he trudges upstairs, loosening his tie. He can almost feel the
steamy warmth of the shower, the comfort of those old sweats, the … wait,
what is this?
He turns to find a beaming little girl, who'd sneaked up the stairs behind
him, given away by the soft thumping of her tiny feet. She musters all
the vocal sweetness that she imagines a good girl to have and asks, "Can
we play now, Daddy?" She doesn't want to bother him, doesn't want to pester.
She just wants him close to her, laughing his silly laugh just for her.
What Jeff hears is persistence -- a trait he will someday appreciate
in her as an adult, but one that annoys him today. So, with a ruffle of
her hair, he dismisses her with strained patience. "In a little bit, Lily.
Why don't you go ask Mommy if she can play with you now?"
Not so easily put off, she is in position at the bottom of the stairs
when he descends some time later. Her little face is fairly bursting with
the effort of holding back her request. She doesn't want to annoy him,
doesn't want to be inconvenient, doesn't want to be bad - and so, says
nothing, hoping he'll remember his promise to play "later."
But he doesn't.
"Ready for some dinner?" he asks, walking quickly past her in an effort
to stave off a few repeats of her "Want to play?" chorus. He enters the
kitchen and begins pulling items from the refrigerator. Just then, the
telephone rings, and little ears listen -- as they always do -- as Jeff
answers. "Hello? Hey, Steven. How are ya? Great. Did you catch the game
Sunday? I can't believe he missed that play…" And so he is lost to her
again, this time to adult conversation, phone tucked between ear and shoulder.
Maybe if I'm just quiet and smile real big, Lily thinks. So she looks
up at him with every fiber of her being poured into her smile, every good
thing in her soul spilling from her eyes. Still on the phone, her daddy
smiles back vacantly and plops a plate down for his daughter, then disappears
into his wife's office with a plate for her, too. Lily's best smile fades
as she quietly eats her dinner to the hum of Daddy's voice on the phone.
Afterward, of course, the parents are busy. There's dinner to be cleaned
up, garbage to be taken out, bills to pay … and all the while, Jeff's
little one - who naturally will not be little forever - patiently and
proudly waits beside her latest Lego masterpiece. She just knows he'll
notice it soon. She knows it's the marvel of engineering brilliance sure
to draw him into her world. But the doorbell rings, and Jeff strides right
past her to answer. Perhaps after the visitor leaves, she wonders. It's
Rahul, their neighbor. He needs help getting his lawn tractor started.
"Hate to bother you, Jeff, but you think you might have a second to look
at it?"
"Of course," Jeff replies, his thoughts registering the day last week
when Rahul was there at 6:00 a.m. to jump start Jeff's car. "That's what
good neighbors are for."
After letting his wife know where he's bound, he leans down to plant
kisses on his daughter's soft cheeks. "Be right back, punkin'," he says.
And he leaves too quickly to notice the silent tears that begin to run
down those same cheeks so hastily kissed, soft cheeks that are soon buried
in pillows. When Jeff returns, she is asleep, dreaming of moving out and
becoming a neighbor who could ring the doorbell, call Daddy on the phone,
and send e-mails to him.
The Hidden Message
"You are not as important to me as the mail, the messages, the dinner,
the phone call or the neighbor. I love you, but I'm too busy for you-and
there's always later, there's always tomorrow."
Think About It
Children perceive time, and what we do with it, differently from the
way adults do. By about age 30, we adults barely notice the passing of
mere seconds. In the currency of time, they're pennies, hardly able to
buy anything of value. For little ones, however, every moment is weighty
with possibility and so passes heavily and slowly. Consider, for instance,
the evening we just witnessed -- it passed particularly slowly for the
little girl but blew past the man who is her father.
Seconds become minutes, of course, and minutes become hours. Almost imperceptibly,
hours become decades. One day, Jeff may indeed turn around to play with
his little girl, only to find a young woman too busy tending her own life
to notice - after all, she has learned by his example. What a common tragedy!
Ask any parent of grown children, and he or she invariably will attest
to how fast it all goes. As the popular maxim forewarns: One comment you'll
never hear on a person's deathbed is "I wish I'd have put in more overtime."
Instead, we all know the final plea is for more time with those whose
love fills and sustains us. The hard truth is that we have only a relatively
small sliver of time in which to give our children the gifts of our experience,
patience, wisdom and heart.
Naturally, obligations intrude on our every day. We perceive these obligations
from an adult point of view, sorting through them, prioritizing as we
go. We give a potential interruption to our mental calendars a quick once-over
and make a snap decision: adjust the plan, or stick to it? But however
we triage the callings in our lives, time marches on. The work gets done.
The meals get prepared. The house gets cleaned. Things work out. Of necessity,
we allot time for the chores that keep us fed, clothed, clean; these things
push themselves into our plans by their very nature. Other items seize
our attention with their urgency - a flashing message machine, a ringing
phone, a buzzing doorbell. Certain activities, however, don't call to
us so loudly. Yet, these can have an impact more profound than all the
others combined: activities such as walking in a park, visiting relatives,
tossing a baseball with a child or building a Lego city. These are the
things that build up a soul.
What would happen if, today, all parents made their children their top
priority?
Nowadays, we so often complain about teenagers and their lack of respect
for adults, and we worry about the anger and lack of direction that seems
to plague them to the point of violence. Yet, I meet many parents who
tell me that their teenagers are wonderful young people, and that they
enjoy them now, just as they always have. Therein lies an important lesson:
We need to begin, right now, at this very moment, to see each second as
a gift, as an opportunity to savor where we all are now - whether we do
this by playing, chatting, or simply being together with our children.
In so doing, we may weave a lifeline that just may continue to hold throughout
the years. When that Lego city gets built, so does the foundation to a
future. And a minute of time for a child will someday be worth its equivalent
in hours to the adult she becomes. The time we spend with our children
now - nurturing, teaching and loving them - is the substance that helps
mold them into the people that they will become.
Changes You Can Make
Review the priorities in your life, make a list of your top five, and
begin investing the bulk of your time and energy in those choices. If
you are a parent, your list, of course, should include your children.
Keep your list of five handy, and refer to it whenever a decision arises.
Ask yourself, "Does what I am doing, or about to do, fit into my list
of priorities?"
Unlike much advice, this way of living is not "easier said than done."
On the contrary, it's "easier done than said!" You'll find that it doesn't
take hours to fill a child's need for attention. Sometimes fifteen minutes
will fill your child's cup - and then allow you to tend to your daily
rituals without that nagging sense of guilt, or that feeling that something
important is missing. In this story of Jeff and Lily, if he had dropped
everything upon his arrival home and given Lily 30 minutes of undivided
attention, he may have satisfied her need for his love. She might then
have been happy to scamper off and allow him to get to his business, or
perhaps trailed along with him letting their connection linger throughout
the evening.
Of course, some daily tasks must be done regardless of their placement
of your list. The laundry would definitely not be in my top five, but
it still needs to be done! However, having your list will ensure that
these "maintenance'' tasks are done with the proper acknowledgement of
their importance. This means that I may decide that a game of Monopoly
with my children now is worth postponing the laundry until after they've
gone to bed.
As for those must-do tasks, some can be undertaken with a child included
as helper or simply as company - a 3-year-old can sit beside you with
her plastic kitchen set "preparing" her own dinner, as you prepare dinner
for the family; a 5-year-old can sort socks or fold hand towels as you
fold the other laundry; a 7-year-old can accompany you on your round of
errands. In each case, you will most likely enjoy the time talking together.
When you decide that your family and your children are your priority,
and that you want, and need, to spend more time with them, your daily
decisions will become easier. You may even begin to ascertain that some
goals you had rated as "top priority" are supremely unimportant. And as
a natural and direct effect, these will fall away, leaving you with two
undeniable gains: a heightened and refined sense of values, and the freedom
to pursue them.
Where to next
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