Just a Minute

It was Noah's first basketball game of the year. I was especially curious to see how he'd perform following the basketball camp that Santa had arranged for him. The game was not until 11:00 a.m. Yeah!! I have time to exercise and organize a few things. It appeared I was missing my scissors. I hopped off the bike and went on a quick search. I found Noah's pj's on the ground, but I couldn't see him anywhere. I thought just maybe he would be lying on the couch with his dad. I checked--no Noah. I called for him again and walked back towards his room. All of the sudden he popped up from the side of his bed with a grin a mile wide. I could hardly contain my joy. Noah being so excited, dressed (without being asked) in his basketball uniform. I was surprised he didn't have to be reminded.  He usually comes into the exercise room and says, "morning mom," but not today. Today was game day.

Dad was in charge of breakfast. Noah decided to help. It wasn't long before Noah came up and asked me where his white lycra undershirt was. I replied "just a minute." I convinced him to eat in his plain white t- shirt so his lycra shirt wouldn't get dirty.

Noah called me down to join them for breakfast; "just a minute."The minutes passed and it wasn't long before my boy came with a plate of scrambled eggs in hand. "For you mom." I ate while I biked.

Breakfast was over and Noah had done what he was asked--to wait and eat breakfast first and then he could put on his schmanzy white shirt. "Mom, I checked in the dryer and it is not there." I suggested a few other places. He started to whine and I began getting irritated. "JUST A MINUTE NOAH!"  Huff, huff, I got off the bike to help him look. I had 20 minutes clocked on the bike and the time was ticking.  "How will I exercise, shower and be on time for the game if I have to stop and look for a shirt?  It could be anywhere. I have found shirts underneath the pillows in the living room, socks behind the TV, church clothes in the coat closet and underwear stuffed in his backpack." Noah's dad added an extra set of eyes and joined the search. He felt the anxiety that comes with missing a shirt on game day, but more importantly he was frustrated with me."When did you know Noah had a game?" In other words, I am his mom and finding his shirts and having them ready for his game is my job and should be my priority.

For the last few minutes on the bike, I had time to think about the exchange. My most important job--that of being Noah's Mom. It is the job I cherish and I treasure. I decided to get off the bike early so I could be on time for Noah's game. "Just a minute" is a phrase that is overused in our household.

What I learned from Noah and his dad: Being Noah's Mom means loving to do the things that Noah needs and often making a sacrifice or two. Next time he is missing his shirt, Noah's Mom will reply, "I'll be right there."