Time passes
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Time passes

Too much time on my hands. Time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking. Time is money. Time waits for no one. Time flies. Where did the time go? It’s about time. Stop wasting time and do your homework.

The concept of time and the perception of time might be a little deep for a Frazzled Housewife column, but that’s how it goes. I can still remember sitting in class in high school, thinking that the clock must have been broken because it was moving so slowly. And then there are those days that are so magical and wonderful, whether they’re spent with friends or with family, that feel have gone by in the blink an eye. Literally a blink.

I still remember, maybe because it wasn’t so long ago, waking up early for Son #2’s wedding and then getting into bed that night saying to Husband #1, “How is this day over already?” How is that possible? How is that possible that the same 24 hours can feel so long and so short? When you have a child who doesn’t sleep, the night feels endless, but when you are so tired and sleep for eight hours, it just doesn’t feel that long. Three nights in a hospital can feel like an eternity. Three nights on vacation — not so much. (Unless it is a really, truly horrible vacation.)

It takes, on average, an entire year for a boy to learn his parsha for his bar mitzvah. An entire year. It takes his mother almost that long to plan said bar mitzvah (unless you want to go into all of the nuances of bar mitzvah planning-the woman who hires a party planner, the woman who pulls everything together in two weeks, the pandemic bar mitzvah…). A year is not chump change when it comes to time — and then it’s over, before you can say, “Thank you for coming. I hope you had a wonderful time.” Sometimes we feel that we have too much time, sometimes we feel there is never enough time.

There is a discussion that I often have with my sister that goes “Would you want to know how much time you have left?” I can never answer that one. I honestly feel that almost every day of my life, I try to enjoy it and do what I can to feel that it was a worthwhile day. I tell my kids, every day, how much I love them. I try to visit my parents at least four or five times a week. I try to do one nice thing for a total stranger whenever the opportunity presents itself. (This goes from just smiling and saying good morning to helping them cross the street over a snow bank — I am not really such a great person.)

Now you might not think what I do is worthwhile. You might think it is a waste of time, ridiculous, but I don’t care what you think, because it is my time and I am doing with it what I want. There are people who do much more noteworthy things every day, like the doctor who currently helps Husband #1. (He doesn’t read my column, but I figured I would give him a shout-out anyway.) People who volunteer in foreign countries to help find new water sources, people who work at soup kitchens — believe me, I know the difference between what I do and what others do. I am not that narcissistic.

I believe the person who invented the fast forward button on the remote control was a really smart individual. That human (trying to be gender sensitive here, even though, let’s face it, it was probably a guy) knew the value of time. He knew that very few people would find watching commercials time-worthy (except during the Super Bowl. Though I tape the Super Bowl so I can fast forward the game and just watch the commercials. Yes, I have a problem.) There are some things we do that waste time. Time that keeps marching forward, no matter how many times we snooze the alarm button. There it goes.

Take the time (pun intended) to see how beautiful it is outside. Take the time to appreciate your smile in the mirror and what a blessing it is that you have one.

Take the time to be grateful.

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck apologizes for the lack of humor this week. But she does take the time to be grateful for her Little Strudel, who had a nine-night sleepover.

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