Three weeks ago, someone commented to me that I ought to “make every moment count” with my kids, because 99% of the time parents spend with their children occurs before those children are eighteen years old, after which our precious offspring are theoretically out of the house, out and about living their own adventures, starting their own families, and largely inaccessible for the rest of a parent’s lifetime to be available to spend quality time with that parent.
After being told this, in addition to me quickly recalling the fact that 87% of statistics are made up on the spot (heh), I found myself reminiscing on a verse from Harry Chapin’s “Cat’s In The Cradle” song…
“…when you comin’ home son?… I don’t know when…but we’ll get together then Dad…you know we’ll have a good time then…”.
Furthermore, I found myself calling bullsh*t on this entire “scarcity-of-time” with kids concept.
I mean, really?
We really need to feel the pressure that 99% of the hours we’ll ever spend with our children will have been spent with them by the time they’re eighteen years old? Really?
I’ll tell you one thing I know for a fact: If that skewed time curve of quality time occurs between generations of Greenfields, and if my twin boys simply pop in every once in a while to say hello, for a total of 1% of the time I’ll ever spend with them after they’re eighteen years old, then I would highly suspect something had gone terribly wrong with the Greenfield family model.
The Problem With “Making Every Moment Count”
You’re no doubt familiar with the concept that to truly make your life meaningful and impactful, you should live each day as if it was your last. Future thinking. Deathbed thinking. Write your own obituary thinking. Make every moment count, and I-mean-every-last-one-darn-it thinking. You know what I’m talking about.
Walk to your mailbox as though it were your final stroll to retrieve a package.
Go hit the gym as though it was the concluding moment of your life and the last chance with which you’ll ever be blessed to move your body.
