You know we'll have a good time then ...

This article appeared in my local newspaper Sunday (front page).

It's a study of how 32 modern, 2 wage-earner families spent their days. They talk about strictly budgeted time, loss of family intimacy, lack of unstructured activities, and why these families choose to live like this:

Archaeologist Jeanne E. Arnold planned to treat each house in the study like a dig site, cataloging and mapping family belongings as artifacts. But there was too much stuff. Instead, her staff took photographs. Thousands of them.
By her rough estimate, the typical American family owns more than most Egyptian pharaohs.
The world has never seen consumption on this scale, Arnold says. "And every week we see more stuff arriving. People can't stop."

Aquisition. Accumulation. Work more. Spend less time with the people you love. Less leisure time and strict structure and planning of the time you do have. How is it all making us happier? IS it making us happier? Or just greedier, less satisifed, more stressed? Is it making us hop back up on the wheel and start spinning harder? Is it causing us to work longer, plan our days more tightly, and tell ourselves that the time lost with our children can be replaced with material things?

Let me make it compeletly clear that I am NOT knocking families with two working parents. Not at all. I have worked full time all my life - since I was a Junior in High School - and my decision to stay home with my children right now doesn't change my work ethic. I simply consider this my current job: raising my children up to school age.

What I'm questioning here is families who work for the sole purpose of being better consumers. Folks who let consumerism ... well, consume them. Folks who give up intimate time with their families and unstructured relaxation for punishing schedules and stressful days. To me, these people are choosing lifestyle over family - or choosing a lifestyle and then assimilating their families into Borg-like conformation. And this is their choice, but I wonder if all the clever explanations of how it benefits their children are justified?

Kim and Gary Zeiss are keeping their children busy by design. They believe it's a key to being a successful adult in a culture that rewards multi-taskers.
"You know the old saying," says Gary, a 47-year-old attorney. "If you want something done, give it to a busy person. They're learning how to be that."

So is the intense structure of a child's day a good thing? Is not getting to be a kid an acceptable loss as long as strict planning of activities takes place?

"The kids are doing well," he says. "They are getting good grades. They're not obese. At the end of the day, this is good for them."

Of course, he makes good points. My question is: does this justify loss of down time? Loss of intimate people time? Will these kids be perfectly fine having never just played like kids on a playground, taken a walk every day with dad, been read a story every evening by mum, or spent a lazy afternoon playing on the rug with Legos?

Is being trim and having a good GPA all that is required for happy adulthood?

Does anyone remember the song Cat's in the Cradle by Harry Chapin?

A child arrived just the other day,
He came to the world in the usual way.
But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay.
He learned to walk while I was away.
And he was talking 'fore I knew it, and as he grew,
He'd say, "I'm gonna be like you, dad.
You know I'm gonna be like you."

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
"When you coming home, dad?"
"I don't know when,But we'll get together then.
You know we'll have a good time then."

My son turned ten just the other day.
He said, "Thanks for the ball, dad, come on let's play.
Can you teach me to throw?" I said,
"Not today,I got a lot to do."
He said, "That's ok."And he walked away, but his smile never dimmed,
Said, "I'm gonna be like him, yeah.
You know I'm gonna be like him."

[chorus]

Well, he came from college just the other day,
So much like a man I just had to say,
"Son, I'm proud of you. Can you sit for a while?"
He shook his head, and he said with a smile,
"What I'd really like, dad, is to borrow the car keys.
See you later. Can I have them please?"

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
"When you coming home, son?" "I don't know when,
But we'll get together then, dad.
You know we'll have a good time then."

I've long since retired and my son's moved away.
I called him up just the other day.
I said, "I'd like to see you if you don't mind."
He said, "I'd love to, dad, if I could find the time.
You see, my new job's a hassle, and the kid's got the flu,
But it's sure nice talking to you, dad.
It's been sure nice talking to you."
And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me,
He'd grown up just like me.
My boy was just like me.

[second chorus]


Time is something we cannot buy. It's here, then it's gone and there's nothing we can do about it. And all of the little things that happen - first words, first steps, first day at school, making cookies in the kitchen and playing with Matchbox cars in the backyard - will be gone forever.

And I think that the experience within a close family of all these little things make perfectly good humans.

I would much rather have these things in my and my children's memories than sports participation trophies, a bigger house, a nicer car, better vacations ... more stuff.