The Pause Button

The news channel we watched last night did an interview with one of the stars of Adam Sandler's new movie Click! In the movie, the main character finds a "special" universal remote control that controls more than just the tv. The interviewer asked the star if he could have a universal remote with only one button, what button would he pick?

That's an easy question for me. I would pick a "pause" button. Not "erase" or "rewind" or even "mute". Pause.

As I write this now, Tyler is sitting near me racing cars down his orange track. This has been a favorite activity of his since he was only 18 months old. Watching him now reminds me of those early days, too. He's making car noises and crashing them into each other, then sending along emergency vehicles for a quick rescue. Occasionally he'll jump up and dig through the box of cars until he finds the perfect one (maybe the "low car with the thingy on top"). He's busy playing and being a boy in his perfect, 4 year old way.

Danielle is setting up a tea party for us on the end table. She's setting out all the little tea cups and now the spoons. "Don't stir it yet, Mommy. I haven't poured the tea yet." She finishes setting everything up and then pours the tea, oblivious to my typing. After all, what else could be more important than a tea party with her? She lifts her cup, says "Cheers!" and waits for me to mimic her. I look at her looking at me. Those blond curls, beautiful smile, and that tinkerbell dress again. How could I refuse?

These are the moments I would choose to pause. Just to take a couple extra minutes to drink in all the details of the moment. I know all too soon I'll be watching a 14 year old race off with his friends or begging a 12 year old to sit down for a minute and talk to me. And although I think these times are fleeing too quickly, I know that there will be moments at those ages I will want to pause, too.

While there are some moments in time I wouldn't mind revisiting and a moment of quiet sometimes seems unimaginable, living in the moment seems to mean the most to me right now.

I need to go. My daughter wants to doctor me and my son needs me to find a trailer for his alligator truck. Unpause.