time consumption

I went to book club this month. I wish it was scrapbooking with these women, but book club will do. We read a book I never would have chosen because I don't choose that type of book, but there were a few times where it had something that translated in my head to be something I needed to recognize as truth. Most of them are too personal to share, or would take too long to show you the path that gave it meaning. But here is the ONE thing I decided I should really be trying to implement.

"In Children, the Challenge . . . Dreikurs tells a story about a mother returning from the store and putting her bags of groceries down on the kitchen table. She opens the refrigerator, takes out the empty plastic containers that hold the eggs, and sets them on the table next to the bags. Then she begins to put the groceries away. Returning from the pantry, she sees that her two-year-old has climbed onto the table, opened the egg carton and, two handed, is transferring one egg at a time into the egg container. "No, no," she cries out in alarm, "that's not for little girls, you'll break them," and she lifts her daughter who has begun to cry down from the table and puts away the rest of the eggs herself." Remen, Rachel Naomi (2000). My Grandfather's Blessings p. 97

If you know Reuben, and you know my work load, you will probably know why this hit me like a box of rocks. I understand that if I were to be the mother the parenting books I'd have to be a SAHM (stay at home mom), and I am a WFHM (work from home mom). I know that I am doing a pretty good job with Reuben with the time that I have, and I am doing better than I could be doing.

I realized I was doing him, and his future family, a huge disservice by being too busy to allow his serving heart to grow. So, I need to find a the time to allow him to serve, and then clean up the broken eggs, or the emptied vacuum, or play clean up beside him instead of waiting until he is in bed to do a quick sweep.

I wonder if it is because Reuben is such an easy child that I have the fear I am going to screw him up, or if I would have that fear if I hand a child that was a handful. Whenever he turns on his "grown-up" voice when he is playing, the one he uses when he is feeding his stuffed animals, or putting them to bed, I am comforted that is how he thinks people who take care of people talk, but still, I worry.