Time in a Bottle

By Al Horn

There was a song out in the late seventies called 'Time in a Bottle' by the late Jim Croce. At the time, I thought it was a nice little love song. Nowadays I think of it as an elusive, magical elixir. I am certain that if I could stuff spare time into a bottle I could sell it for a small fortune. Right now I would settle for a potion that would make me fifty percent more efficient at managing the spare time I do have. Not that there is much of it.

The number of people in our house just doubled. No, President Bush and his wife didn't move in to escape the press. That would have been a breeze to handle. I'm talking about two grandchildren that just arrived. Their mother has endured many recent personal tragedies and was having a hard time making ends meet. Her children were farmed out for the summer in hopes that she could get things on track again. She wants to continue living in the Phoenix area but the weak economy and slim job market has made things extremely difficult.

Mom and dad stepped up and offered to take the kids. A five-year-old girl and an eighteen-month-old boy. We rushed to get the house baby-proofed and all the appropriate household items. We discovered the true value of yard sales. After a week of preparation, the house was secured for the invasion. Decorations crafted to please each youngster in their own rooms. This also meant a lot of personal items were boxed up and put into a storage unit. I will sorely miss my treadmill. It was a great place to store my golf shoes and hang my many hats. My wife says I will adapt. A week later and I am starting to understand what she meant.

I have learned to tread softly for I know not what toy may lie beneath my feet. The light beer that sat in wait on the lower shelf of our fridge has been replaced by a squadron of  'tippy' cups filled with a variety of satisfying liquids. Standing or sitting still for more than a minute makes you an instant target for affection. I have learned to shave and shower at night so as not to wake anybody in the mornings. When I came home from work every day, I would give my wife a big hug. Now she must stand in line and wait her turn. I had to get up at six o'clock this morning, on my day off, just to write this.

One of the reasons I was happy to hear the kids were coming was because I knew they would be a great source for writing material. They do and say a lot of cute things. Finding time to capture those moments has been hard. For the moment, we are leaving the digital camera out to try and catch as much as possible. The problem is that we have over one hundred pictures so far and no time to sort through them.

My wife says things will settle down as the boy learns the house and starts to play more on his own. The girl is starting to make friends in the neighborhood and is beginning to see grandpa as a last resort for entertainment. Still, they require a lot of attention. I'm sure that my wife is wondering why I volunteer to go to the store for her so much lately. She knows it's not to avoid the kids because I often take them with me. The truth is I am scanning the shelves for that elusive bottle filled with spare time. Price is no object.