Wasting Time on Family

Unproductive.

I brought home a mountain of work the other night, hoping to cut some of my backlog by half. And as I sit here watching the sun set on this humid afternoon, the mountain pile of work remained untouched.

Un-turned.
Ignored.

And you know what, I think I'm just screwed.

But I'm still here, writing these words away; Staring at my manifesto; trying to write more chapters of the story that seems to be more difficult to pen each day;

And thinking: I loved how I spent today.

I loved that I was able to clear the clutter in Coco's workplace, wrote letters, drew pictures and painted flowers and skies with the little girl, played with her dolls and managed to whip some afternoon treats for her too.

Tonight, we promised to read the new book we bought and I will find the time to listen to her opinion about so many, so so many random things.

Now as I wait for the little girl to get her bath stuff together, I manage to squeeze in a few words here-- and a few more into the project I am still trying to finish. And I wonder if we get weekends in between work days-- one day reprieves like today, would banking days become more bearable?

I guess so. I believe so.

And I hope that we get to have weekends in between work days every now and then. Maybe squeeze all the work in four days-- and get three day weekends all the time, every week. I think of the so many things that I need to do, to accomplish, or words to write or read and I keep on wondering how my days would accommodate all and everything.

And I keep thinking that Little girl is growing up so fast, and I get scared that I will miss these kind of days. Maybe miss moments when she would do something incredible for the first time.

Sometimes I wake up to just watch her sleep. Or I just watch her in the middle of our conversations or painting sessions and I sit in amazement how time truly flies.

Tomorrow, when I wake up, she may already be off to university. with me just lounging in my beach chair, watching the sun set in a quiet, lazy beach town somewhere far.

So I tell her every moment that I can that I love her, and tell her of our dreams; listen to her I love you Mom's and her dreams and we hug each other just because we feel every moment together is just simply special. Because maybe one day, we'd both be too busy already that we might let one day go without a hello.

Can it be? I shudder just thinking of the possibility.

Whilst cleaning her work area this morning, I found her drawing in her Critical Thinking Workbook. And I found a picture of the both of us-- stick figures with long hairs and huge grins and words scribbled beside, describing the characteristics of the members of the family.

She wrote there, at the bottom, her name and an explanation that this is her family (Mommy and Me) and the one thing she described us was: Happy.

And you know what?

I feel like I've done the right thing, wasting so much time lazing with this little girl-- creating moments that she lovingly calls "our time".

And I feel like my unfounded fears of before, that this little one will find our "family" lacking, are now eons away.

I've never been so glad that I'm wrong.

Thank you, Heaven.