The Dining Room Table

About 1/3 of table. Plenty-o-room.

I bought a 1000 piece puzzle this year. Time with my youngest is slipping away ever-so-quickly. I thought this would be a good trick to slow it down. I did NOT think it would an easy sell. A puzzle. An old-fashioned puzzle. There'd be no shooting down enemies, performing the floss, or posing for Snapchat. But a funny thing happened. When I showed him the box, he was surprisingly enthusiastic. Of course, I was sneaky. It was a Star Wars design.

When I was a young mother, activities with my kids were items to be crossed off a to-do list – in the name of raising successful kids, of course. We read Honey Bunny Funny Bunny over and over and over again because it was critical in developing mental acumen. We took nature walks even with the threat of snakes because fresh air is important to health. We made utter messes carving pumpkins or decorating cookies because creativity needs unleashing. I wish I could go back and tell my younger self to quit thinking of raising kids as a prescribed regimen. Enjoy the messes and re-

Now that's use of a table.

hashings of a good bunny tale.

I used to get out of sorts to come home and find stuff everywhere. Shoe mountains. Seven backpacks for two children. (??) Nearly-full gatorade bottles. I was especially irritated by the dirty socks on the dining room table. Yes, gross. But in less than two years, that dining room table will be collecting nothing but dust. It's gonna be lonely as hell. The table, I mean.

I recently had the honor of writing a recommendation for someone who will be receiving an award that any mother would covet. As I wrote, I considered what a wonderful job this person has done balancing family life and career. About ten years ago, I also received an award. A banking award. My husband barely flinched when I told him. I should've considered his reaction more deeply. Did I shortchange family time by focusing so much on my career? It's a question that burdens so many of us – fathers and mothers alike.

If I could roll back time...

As Charles Dickens teaches us in The Christmas Carol, it's never too late to change. I can still eke out quality time with my kids, even if they're the ones who now need to pencil me in. As a matter of fact, Cole has already picked out a project that will sit nicely on the bare portion of the dining room table: a gingerbread house. It will probably turn out to be a real sticky mess.

 I'll love every minute of it.