Dear Tardy-Pants Friend,

You're my friend, and I love you. I plan to spend many years enjoying your company, and I think you share the same sentiment. So bear that in mind as you prepare yourself for a little rollicking.

Put yourself in my shoes for a minute here...

I get a call at quarter to 12 from my husband saying he'll be home for lunch.

Me: Cool. Great. Will you be home by 12:15 so I can take G back to school? (without packing up other 3 children)

Him: Yes. 12:15. Sure.

My intuition: No, you won't.

Myself: Shut up and carry on.

The phone rings at 12:14 (No Lie!) and surprise, surprise...

Him: I'll be home in 10 minutes, Dear.

Me: So we'll be late for school then.

Him: No, can't you just pack up all the kids and go?

Myself: Dear, if I had an invention that got 4 kids dressed, seat belted, and free of minor last-minute emergencies in a van during a snow storm in the span on 1 minute, I would be retired.

So my daughter and a frazzled me arrive at school LATE. BUT I WAS NOT LATE. HE WAS LATE.

Not being a person of habitual lateness, maybe you can appreciate that situations like this drive me CRAZY. Now, I'm not a total psycho—I don't get all that excited about the occasional blip—we are all late sometimes, shit happens, we move on. What I am talking about is the sort of people who can NEVER be on time for anything, the people who think 4 o'clock means 5:30, the ones who roll into work at ten past on a good day, the people who run so late that they don't even show up, or if they do, they do so just as you're about to turn the lights out, the ones who arrive frazzled with excuses that they had to do this or that at the last minute or, worse, people who arrive hours late with no apology or explanation as to why the rules of punctuality don't apply to them. Sound familiar? If this is you, at this point maybe you're thinking one of two things:

1. I know. I know. I need to get my sh*t together and be on time. To which I have to reply—Yes. Please do that. Or...

2. What is the big deal if I'm a little late? Well, let me tell you...What is the most valuable currency known to the human race? No, not the Swiss franc. It is TIME. Dispute that, tardy-pans! And when we've set a time to do such-and-such and you are late, you are wasting MINE. My most valuable currency! And I have to say that it is not appreciated.

Now, I have to believe that you are not malicious—my own best friend and husband are part of this peculiar club of yours--so I'm going to go on two assumptions that:

a) it is your strapping (albeit misguided) sense of optimism as to how much you think you're going to accomplish before we've agreed to meet at 1:30, or that

b) you've simply lost track of time

But, you know what?? Neither of those things is OK!! because

a) I am amazed, AMAZED, in the WORST possible way, how one can nearly everyday for 10 years incorrectly forecast their ETA by a factor of 50%. When this has happened for 780^th time, do you not rethink your optimism or the time it will take to complete a, b, and c? I have said this, but I will say it again, if you are a laggard lass/lad (and in my experience, people generally know this about themselves), please, PLEASE calculate your ETA and add 50%. Just DO it, because when you say you're going to be home in time to see the kids off the bus, that event happens at 3:30. So from that point on, I will begin arranging daily tasks (THOUSANDS of em!) with that time in mind and, more importantly, budgeting my patience to expire at precisely 3:30. So, when you stroll through the door at 5:15, YOU, not me, have made for a very unpleasant 105 minutes.

b) You lost track of TIME? You LOST track of TIME? YOU LOST TRACK OF TIME? How does that even happen? But, you know what? You do that, you lose track of time. On some level I am jealous of your ability to do that. You sleep in. Do nothing on weekends. Don't make plans. Eat lunch at 2pm. I don't care, but don't you dare lose track of MY time. When we've made a time-arrangement of whatever variety, I have made my most valuable currency available for you. I have showered at such and such a time, I've gotten my groceries earlier, I've arranged childcare, I've inconvenienced my loved ones, and, perhaps more poignantly have arranged NOT to do 1000 other pressing things in order that I might make time for you.

This may not be what you intend, in fact I'm pretty sure it isn't, but when the situation of me waiting on your sorry-ass arises time and time again, it is to me a suggestion that somehow you think your life/time/issues are more pressing or important than mine. We've all got deadlines, we're all busy, we've all got places to be, unexpected things come up, I get it! I get it because my life is no different than yours, so when you're asking for yet another extension on that project deadline, what else am I to assume? Because, miracly in my life I have NEVER required an extended deadline for anything, yet for you with tardy tendencies, you can rarely meet one. Is this because your lives are infinitely more pressed for time or that unexpected calamity befalls you at every deadline? Probably not. Or is it because you just didn't get your sh*t together?

So because, as I said in the beginning, I love you and wish to spend many years enjoying your company, can I give some suggestions that will help us relate more peacefully?

1. If you can't seem to meet a set time, don't set a time! Give me a ballpark. 'We will be there after 5', 'We'll come over when we're finished grocery shopping,' and for my benefit, if you are not here before such-and-such, I'm going to feel free to start without you.

2. If you know you're going to be late, LET ME KNOW. Give me a call, send a text, whatever. Because if I know that I have 20 minutes or 2 hours, I will do something else. Something productive! Something that is NOT waiting for you.

3. Get your sh*t together. This is your deal. Get a clock, an alarm, a reminder, start getting ready earlier, allocate more realistic time frames, whatever you need to do. There's probably an app out there ready to fix this for you. Get up at 6 AM if you need to, but, this part I have to leave for you figure out. I'd mind my own business, but my time IS my business.

Now don't get all like scared of me or forever-after hold me to some ridiculous high standard of on-timeness. There's bound be bumps on the road to punctuality for all of us, but, as I said, I value our relationship and wouldn't want to let this little annoyance fester in my back pocket and eat away that. It is not beyond me to take our time-arrangements with a grain of salt, and I have certainly learned to do that over the years, but, as a return favor, could you punch up the punctuality just a notch? Just sayin...

Love from your Punctual-Pants friend

The Myth of "Quality Time"

Tell me nothing like this has ever happened to you...You have a couple of hours on a Sunday (Father's Day Sunday), and you're determined to have a nice family time. You pack a picnic and get the kids all kitted out. You get the picnic blanket, pack up the car, and set out. So and so needs to go pee 30 seconds down the road so you come back, take care of business, and set out again. Kid 2 and Kid 3 declare World War III in the back, and Kid 1, who didn't want to miss soccer for this occasion, has decided today is NOT his day and is making sure everyone knows this by declaring his general distaste for picnics, little sisters, sandwiches, his 'stupid booster seat', little chicks, babies and everything else in between in that perfectly grating tone. On the way, you stop at three grocery stores before you find one that has ice, all the while enjoying the growing cacophony in the back of your vehicle. You arrive at the picnic destination and discover the juice, which has spilled in the cooler, has been sopped up by the sandwiches, but you lay out the blanket anyway, determined to press on...And just as you're threatening that if Kid 1 doesn't CUT OUT HIS WHINING or he will have to sit in the van, you notice Kid 3 green-faced and puking on the slide... ABORT PLAN... Stuff Grumpy, Puky, and Screamy in the van along with soggy sandwiches and return home. HAPPY blinking FATHER'S DAY!

The next day, you wake up exhausted and decide you're too lazy to do anything. You put on the tv, clean out the cooler, and go out to do some yard work. The kids migrate out in their jammies, and, by some act of God, decide that today is the day they will get along. And then all the stars align, and the two hours that follow unfold like one of those dream sequences from the Wonder Years. A jolly game of backyard dodgeball erupts minus the over-zealous (but NOT-ON-PURPOSE, MOM!) balls to the face. This evolves into a game of tag which somehow comes to include water, and the end result is a family water fight culminating in the full five of you rolling in hysterics on the grass before chowing down on ice cream sandwiches and telling knock-knock jokes while soaking up the sun in lawn chairs. And the whole thing reminds you why you did this whole family thing in the first place... MAGIC!

In this day and age of busy-ness where everyone, including the dog, is scheduled to the nines, pulled in 100 different directions and consequently too exhausted to do much else, I hear a lot of talk of 'quality time,' and it goes without saying that some choices are better than others in terms of making the best of one's time. For example, one might choose to go for a family bike ride over, say, watching the Simpson's, but there are no guarantees as to how that bike ride will unfold, and I can definitely attest that there has even been some 'quality' Simpson's times in my past, which leads me to this... It has always been my thought that 'quality' is something you simply cannot force. And do you want to know why you can't force 'quality?' It is because, as I've attempted to illustrate in the previous anecdotes--Quality time is magic. There's no two ways about, and magic doesn't always happen when you want it to or when you plan for it to, it just happens. However, like all sensible things, magic does respond simple mathematical rules, and as I will attempt to prove forthwith, the more powerful factor we need to be focusing on is, in fact, QUANTITY TIME. So if you're willing to bear with some seriously loony-toons logic, here goes...

The (mathematical) Laws of Magic

1. The occurrence of magic/quality time is random. It happens in its own time and space, and cannot be squeezed involuntarily into places of your choosing – Just as you can't squeeze 4 halves into a whole, magic or 'quality time' cannot be squeezed into say, a two hour window on Sundays. I was once out for supper with friends, and at the table next to us sat a father and teenage son. To me, the whole situation reeked of an every-second-weekend custody arrangement, and, as a bystander/spying diner, this social event was as cringe-worthy as watching Keanu Reeves in “A Walk in the Clouds”. The Dad was trying in vain to converse with the boy who awkwardly looked sideways, mumbled one word answers, and incessantly checked his phone. I secretly prayed that they would have the impetus to forgo dessert and put themselves out of their misery, but NO, and by this time it was total silence as they scarfed down their brownies. Painful. But I really did feel very badly for both of them. What I saw was a guy making an effort to do something nice with his son specifically involving conversation, and, in this instance, the attempt at quality time appeared to be failing miserably. But, it was what it was, and 'magic' simply did not surface at this juncture. There has actually been a number of studies done on this particular topic in fact showing a strong negative correlation between father-son outings to BP's and the appearance of 'magic'/quality time, but the reason for this remains unclear... BUT, MAKE NO MISTAKE...

2. Magic WILL happen – Just as two non parallel lines, both in the same plane, are destined to intersect, so is it inevitable that magic WILL occur. This is a good thing. 'Magic'/quality time has long been known to increase the frequency of smiling and laughing as well as decrease the occurrence of heart attacks and feelings of discontentment. It would seem that appearance of magic is a universal law, much like Pythagorean Theorem, and to date, there are no documented discrepancies in its existence/frequency regardless of geographical location, social circumstance, cultural affiliation or any other factor.

3. Magic will surface with the most frequency in the things you spend the most time doing—Hello!?! The law of averages??? If magic is random and inevitable, it only serves to reason that it will surface most often in the activities you spend the most time (ahem, QUANTITY TIME) doing. This is good news insomuch as it is the part of this mathematical equation that you can manipulate. This is where one might find it useful to call to mind your own unique values in terms of which areas of your life you would ideally like 'magic'/quality time to surface. If it is desirable for you to have 'quality time' with your kids, then perhaps consider how this will factor into the 'quantity' investment of your time this weekend. If you are looking for that 'magical' golf swing, consider booking a few tee times. If the magic in your career is lack-lustre, put in a few extra hours. It really is quite simple.

There you go! You can't argue with Math. Choose wisely how you spend your QT (quantity time), and all that's left is so sit back, relax, and allow magic to happen.

Parenting--Embrace the inconvenience!

It's 5 o'clock. Your 3 kids (specifically 2 and a baby) are shuffling about at the door getting ready to go outside. You are in the kitchen over a chopping board with bloodied pork fingers knowing, the way a mom does, that it's T minus 2 minutes to meltdown. Kid 1 and Kid 2 are getting their shoes and jackets on and have asked to go out front to ride bikes. Kid 3 (baby) is rearranging shoes and repeating “O'side. O'side!” waiting for the moment where one of the big kids opens the door so she can make a break for it. You hear the door open and inwardly cringe hoping against hope that Kid 1 and Kid 2 will manage to get out without Kid 3 and without Kid 3 getting her fingers pinched in the door. Mercifully, this transpires, but, as predicted Kid 3 responds with her best blood-curdling-how-dare-they screaming protest. You abandon the pork, wash your hands, scoop up Kid 3 who swats at you and paws to get “O'side!!! O'SIDE!!” You give her a poorly received cuddle and spend some time getting her settled into a stacking toy activity, and resume pork-chopping. But. WAIT!! You hear the door open...Kid 2 has forgotten her helmet which she quickly grabs before running back out, slamming the door behind her, this time narrowly missing those pursuing little fingers by a hair, and...

The Process starts all over again...WAAAA! O'SIDE!! abandon chopping, wash hands, scoop up baby, and on and on and on...

Sometime later my husband returns home from work to a less-than-contented baby, a couple scraped knees, a frazzled me, and a still-not-cooking supper, and, as happen all too often lately, I launch into a speech about how 'frustrated' I am, how I 'just can't get anything done', and 'how would he like it if he was trying to do X and was interrupted 7000 times to stop a fight, answer a question, change a diaper, repeat an instruction, tend to a crier, repeat an instruction, get a drink, perform reconstructive surgery on today's crafted minion, get a drink, reach this, repeat instruction yet again, and rescue Child 3 from dangerous climbing destination AGAIN', and on and on and on... It's enough to do your head in sometimes, well, most of the time.

And then my mind goes down the road where I think if I could just chop the f&#king pork in one session, without having to stop to wash my hands three times, I would have more time to do all the other things and more time to read and cuddle Kid 3, and a little more patience when tending to homework with Kid 1 and Kid 2, and more time to collect my thoughts before the next on and on and on...

And then my husband says “Well, actually, do you know how many times my phone rang while I was trying to do X today? To which I respond...”Well, THAT is your job, or a least part of it, and it is not my fault if you can't multi-task, and do you know what would happen to this house if I couldn't do my job WHILE talking on the phone...” And on and on and on...

but, seriously, STOP!!! STOP this crazy cycle. You know what? Somewhere in this domestic play-by-play is the answer.

THAT is my job!!! All that inconvenience? Well it's not inconvenience at all. It's not an interruption to the job, it IS the job. And, until I accept that, I will continue right on feeling this frustration. My solution??? EMBRACE THE INCONVENIENCE!

Because, let's face it, without all of those 'inconveniences', I wouldn't have this job at all. I'm pretty certain that I wouldn't have chosen staffing a tranquil house, making oatmeal cookies, chopping pork, and making dinosaur dioramas as my career path if it weren't for the 3 delightful inconveniencers that I have accrued over the last 6 six years. Besides, where is the challenge in, say, making a pizza for supper? I could probably have done that when I was 12. But, making a pizza with a screaming baby, a toddler on the table with a bucket of flour and a measuring cup, wielding a knife with 30 unpredictable fingers, while talking on the phone...??? Now THAT'S a challenge!! And you know what? I love my job! I love that no two days are the same, I love the people I work with, I am my own boss (I think?), the rewards are second-to-none, and on and on and on...

Now I am going to put this pen down one final time (I'll venture a guess that it was abandoned no less that 30 times during the writing of this article), but when I do, and life (31) resumes its pattern of task, interruption, interruption (32), task, inconvenience, inconvenience, task, I vow to proceed with that equation turned on its head...Isn't it inconvenient that I have to make supper AGAIN instead of playing peekaboo with Kid 3? Or, Damn this sweeping thing, cutting into my minion repair surgery! (33), “Pile of laundry over there? You will just have to stop your whining and WAIT until Kid 1 has his scrape tended to.” And maybe, with a little luck, it will be a slightly cheerier me carrying on and on and on.

Life--The Investment Theory

I've done some searching around, and, though I will own the exact wording of this quote, I fear taking credit for the sentiment would border on plagiarism.  It has definitely been around in various forms over time, but, nonetheless, it is with this in mind that I write the following...

One could argue that not all things/people are created equal. Some of us are born into money, some of us aren't. Some of us overflow with musical talent, others..not so much. Some excel in physical pursuits, others in the arts. Some of us are great listeners or great thinkers, and some assholes are just generally good at everything. And that is all fine, and, for heaven's sake, don't waste time measuring or trying to place value on what God gave you, but if you're looking for the great equalizing factor, the one thing that no one person has over no other, don't look too hard. Find the nearest clock, and watch sixty seconds tick by. Now pick a person, ANY person, rich or poor, friend or foe, famous or humble—I'm going to pick Bill Gates—and now picture that person engaged in the same exercise—Bill Gates, sitting still watching one minute tick by. 60 seconds is 60 seconds is 60 seconds no matter who are, where you've been, who your friends are, how much money you have, what your talents are or aren't, or what letters you have behind your name. TIME—the great equalizing factor, a currency bestowed in equal measure throughout all humanity.

To me, it is self-evident that how you spend this currency is the greatest predictor of the future outcomes of any of those other things I talked about. If you spend time being educated, you will be educated. If you spend time playing the flute, you will be a flautist. If you spend time with your family, you will have a rich family life. If you spend your time doing nothing, you will not do much. The exceptions to this rule are surprisingly few and far between. When put this way, it seems so obvious, but if you're like me, knowing this and actually living it are two different things.

The example I'm going choose to illustrate this point is neither here nor there and, by no means, am I suggesting that you have to agree with me on this particular subject, but I do encourage you to critically examine how you are spending that most valuable time currency in your own life and if it aligns with the goals you have in mind for yourself or your family.

So I believe in 'play'--free, largely unstructured, outdoor, physical play. Looking back on my childhood, this is something I was blessed to have in great quantity. I am exceedingly grateful for this and credit a solid foundation of 'play' for many things I have enjoyed in my adult life—namely, an innate desire to move/exercise, a love of the outdoors, an outlet for stress, a creative mind, strong intrinsic motivation, among other things. And, in all honesty, I desire that exact same thing for my kids, kinda like 'free range children.' But you know what I did yesterday? I spent the better part of two hours on hold with the City of Saskatoon registering the kids for their swim lessons which are at some god-awful inconvenient time and location and which will inevitably involve our entire family spending the next 10 Sunday mornings packing bags, driving around, and doing swim laundry all for the gain of a half hour swim lesson of which they will spend at least 15 minutes waiting for their turn. Now, you'll remember that I didn't promise you'd agree with me on this particular issue, but, when I look at this from a 'time-investment' perspective, I am not overly wowed by the return. Now obviously, free play is not the only goal I have in mind for my family, and I realize that my children are not going to learn to swim in my own backyard, and that the whole packing bags/driving/laundry process is a necessary evil, but there's a nagging voice in me saying, 'wouldn't it be easier, wouldn't they engage/learn more if we all just went swimming for a few hours?' But swimming lessons—here we come!

Now I'm not one to toot my own horn, but I am actually not an epic failure at this whole 'free play' thing. My kids and I spend lots of time 'playing' and, as a result, they are great 'play-ers,' and I hope that they'll reap the benefits of that over time. And I have the odd moment of clarity, like when I see them run out the door and hop on their bikes at the first sight of spring, where I feel pretty good about this particular time investment! And that is encouraging!

But going into parenthood, I also had this notion that 'music' was going to be a big part of our lives. But here we are, 6 years in, and my kids' greatest musical accomplishments consist of naming the Top 5 Shazam songs in Canada and being able to croon out the lyrics to 'Animals' (I know, scary) with freakish accuracy. But, as the old adage go, we reap what we sow...should I expect anything other when my children's musical exposure consists almost entirely of listening to pop radio in the van as we drive hither to tither? It's not like we've been regularly frequenting the symphony or jamming in the basement. Poor kids. Perhaps it may sound as though I'm making light of it, but this situation, for me, serves as a reminder that how we invest our time, even inadvertently, becomes our reality. Never mind the haunting feeling I have that that same time investment is responsible for the development (or lack thereof) of any talents or gifts they might have—it's all well and good to have a talent for such and such, but that talent will amount to nothing without a corresponding time investment.

Far beyond being a simple investment with a return, time (or, more specifically, how we spend it) defines us. Recently, someone called me a 'blogger,' and it was like a slap in the face...well, that's a bit dramatic, but my thought was, 'Whoa. Back the truck up. Like, yes, I may engage in some blogging activity from time to time, but that does not make me a 'blogger.' But the fact of the matter is that when you start the engage in any “thing” on a regular basis, you, by proxy, become a “thing-er”. Like if you invest your time into teaching, people will probably call you a “teacher,” or if you spend enough time singing, eventually you'll have to accept the title of “singer.” How you spend your time, outside of what is strictly functional (few have ever bragged that they are a “toothbrusher”), becomes who you are, how you will be remembered, how people will describe you, and ultimately how you will describe yourself. And there is some heavy weight in that.

So I've decided that I dislike any theory without any practical application, so here's where I've decided to go with this...Next time you have a moment like one of those I've described, where you find yourself wondering 'why am I wasting my time registering/doing such-and-such?' or 'I really should start putting some effort into my musical pursuits,'--consider that your 'DING-DING reminder that it is time for an investment review (I know, groan, but you'll be glad you did it once it's done). And here's how I propose you do it...

Pick a few “thing-er”-type descriptors as your time investment goals for yourself or your family. I'm going to pick three for myself:

1. Listener

2. Musician-er

3. Blogger

And then start to consider how you will invest/reinvest your time to become those things. Maybe, it will be a small change to your personal behaviour, maybe you will want to register for a class or sign up for a league, maybe it will be designating Monday nights as X-night, or maybe even just bringing these goals up to a more conscious level will be enough. That's up to you. And if you're like me and find that you simply don't have time to spare for investment, consider the flip side of the coin. Pick a few descriptors that you'd rather not have surface in your eulogy and steal a bit of time from those areas. Now if you'll just control your inner Jenny-Judgie, I will pick:

1. Candy-crusher

2. Reality tv-watcher

Now, maybe your time investment portfolio is more-than-satisfactory to you, but that begs the question? What are you doing reading this article? Just kidding. But my feeling is that if you can get to a place where you are satisfied with your time investments, there is no reason that you can't be as 'rich' as Bill Gates himself.