Fleeting

They say it's fleeting.

Time, I mean.

I've seen all the movies in which the dad works late at the office for years and then something happens that wakes him up, and he realizes that he should have been spending more time with his family all along.

I know all that. I'm actually really sensitive, or sensitized, to that fact. Nicole reminds me all the time that I'm Gamble's hero, and that it won't be that way forever. That he just wants to play video games with me. That he just wants to spend time with me. That he's going to school soon, and at that point, all bets are off, the cords are cut, and the horse (as they say) is out of the barn.

Heck, he tells me himself. After not being able to play with him for a couple nights, I took him to Menards tonight, and even though he played his DS the whole time, he was happy to be there with me.

What those movies don't tell you, however, is that even if you know the lessons of the movies, even if you cherish the time, even if you push to spend every minute with your family, even if you understand that the time is fleeting, it doesn't matter.

Because there's still houses to be sold, inspections to be had, cars to have oil changes, repairs to be made, dishes to be done, laundry to be folded, and yardwork to be done.

We're so lucky that Nicole can stay home with the kids during this time. I can't imagine trying to sell and buy a house if we were both working. For now, she gets the time with the kids, and I'll keep fighting for every minute I can get.

I just can't wait until the time we're in that new house. We can't get there fast enough. And when we do, we're decking out his room, and we're going to love our summertime, because that time, too, will be fleeting.