With all that there is to do in your busy lives, it’s sometimes easy to see your children as just one more thing you must take care of, and if you’re faced with a particularly hectic day, the simplest course of action can seem to be that of letting them entertain themselves with toys, videos, or games, while you take care of the business of the day.

What you need to realize is that what you pour into your children each day is what helps to prepare them for their future. The love, concern, discipline, and attention that you fill up your child’s life with, is what helps them to mature into the person they’ll become. If you are too busy to give your children the time and love that they need, you’ll miss out on one of life’s best investments; while you may meet other expectations of your day, those things will not live on eternally. It’s what you pour into your children that lives beyond today.

You will always have work to take care of—the house to clean, a pile of clothes to launder, and bills to pay—but you won’t always have your children with you, and you won’t be able to regain the moments you lost “because you were too busy.” Every day, every moment, counts in helping to build your child’s future, and making them who they will become.

The more you pour into your children, the more they will learn. You can use every opportunity to teach them something; and you can fill up their lives with happiness by the zeal and inspiration you exude in the way you live your life. Caring for your children can also teach you many things personally; in fact, many a wise soul has been taught a lesson through the sincerity, love, and simplicity of a child.

Always remember that the years of childhood are precious; you’re helping to shape your child’s future by what you give to them, so make it count, make it worthwhile. You’ll never regret it.

By Sharmini Odhav

Before my baby was born, I tried to imagine what she would be like. When she wasn’t sleeping—which I expected her to do most of the time—I pictured her sitting serenely contemplating the meaning of life or contentedly observing me as I went about my cooking, cleaning, or other work, all the while learning the essentials of womanhood. Little did I know that sleep would be the very last thing on her mind.

She wasn’t nearly as interested in finding out what was on my agenda as she was in letting me know what was on hers. She wanted every second of my time, and nothing held her attention for more than three minutes. When she got fussy, she could keep it up for hours on end, despite my doing everything but fly through the air on a trapeze to try to amuse or distract her.

At times I felt like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off, running in circles trying to clean and wash and fold and keep up with all of my other necessary activities while also caring for this hyperactive new addition to my life. There were times when I felt like I just couldn’t do it anymore, and I would throw up my arms and ask God why He was punishing me. How did other women cope? Was I the only one not, in fact, superhuman?

My first reaction was to try to do everything on the double so I could somehow cram it all in to what now seemed like a minuscule 24 hours. For the most part it seemed to work, and it gave me a rush to get more done than I had before. But babies somehow just can’t be rushed through like anything else. It must be God’s way of teaching parents patience. Trying to put a baby to sleep in haste, or commanding her to “be happy,” or expecting her to entertain herself for more than a few minutes so I could do something else just didn’t work. The usual consequence was a confused, frustrated, unhappy baby, and it would take even longer to put her to sleep or help her return to her happy self. It took me awhile to realize that the less attention I showed her, the more irritated she would become. Too often I found myself barking orders or whining back at her.

Eventually I asked myself why things were the way they were. What had I become? I didn’t want my baby’s first years to pass this way, and I certainly didn’t want to be that kind of a parent to my child!

Then my mom said to me, “You should make the most of this time with your baby, because before you know it, she’ll be grown up!”

I prayed for a change of attitude, and I got it. I learned to enjoy every moment with my baby—every smile that tells me that she’s happy that I brought her into the world, every time she nestles her head on my shoulder in trusting repose, every time her tiny fingers wrap around mine or stroke my cheek, every time I feel her soft skin or smell her baby breath, every miracle I witness in her infant life that finds me shrieking in excitement. I even enjoy her cries to have some need met because they remind me of the immense responsibility I have been blessed with—her little life entrusted to my care. And when I figure out what it is she needs or cradle her in my arms and she stops her crying or fussing, I’m left with the most amazing, satisfied feeling, realizing that I am the most important, loved, and appreciated person to her. I also imagine that the way I respond to her now will influence how she will respond to me later in life.

As soon as I stopped seeing my baby as an additional chore on my to-do list, the quality of my life improved. I realized how much I love her and what an incredible experience it is to be a mother.

Now I find myself looking for ways to spend more time with her, because I don’t want to miss one second of her life before it flies by. I’m thankful for this opportunity I have to pour more into her. I’ve learned that if I put everything else aside and attend to her needs, she rewards me by being a happy, contented, and attentive baby. When she finally goes to sleep, I have time to do some of those other things I wanted to. But until then, they can wait. She’s the most precious time consumer I could ever ask for!

When things get especially busy and I think I don’t have time to give her that little extra, I remind myself that quality time spent with our children is never wasted. The love we store in their hearts will last a lifetime and beyond. If we invest time and love in our children, we’ll spend the rest of our lives reaping the dividends.

* * *

Would you write your name
among the stars?
Then write it large upon the
hearts of the children.
They will remember!
Have you visions of a nobler,
happier world?
Tell the children!
They will build it for you.

—Author unknown

It’s amazing the clarity of thought I have. It’s like the world has suddenly slowed down its insane pace. Each second seems like an hour. Time has stopped to watch me fall. The world around me is a kaleidoscope of madly spinning colors. Blue sky blending nauseatingly with gray pavement, and then back again. I’d be panicking, except reality hasn’t sunk in yet, probably a result of the whisky.

I am going to die. It’s funny how I’m not afraid. Somehow I feel like I’m not really here, like I’m watching someone else through a window. Someone else about to die.

They’ll probably write me off as another suicide case. Another rich guy with problems who dove off a skyscraper. They’ll search the penthouse and find the half-empty whisky bottle on the roof. A story will probably be printed in the Times, construing the reasons I jumped.

But that’s where they’ll be wrong. I didn’t jump. I wish I could clear that up somehow. Show them that I was sitting on the railing. Show them how I leaned just a little too far back. Show them that I’m not suicidal. It’s too late for that, though.

What bothers me is that this is how I will be remembered. My children will grow up thinking their dad killed himself. Jamie’s only five. Little Mariangela is barely two years old. How do you explain something like that to a two-year-old?

I should have spent more time with them. My wife Kyla too. She might not have left yesterday if I had been around more. What was it for anyway? The promotion? I put in so many hours of overtime, I probably set a record. Trying to impress the boss. What was that—three years ago? Now here I am, a partner in the largest law firm in the city. Filthy rich. Time‘s “Man of the Year.” I spent so long trying to make it to the top, and when I finally made it, I realized that I left behind everything that really mattered. Hence the whisky.

Humans are so unintelligent. We’re too proud to learn from others’ mistakes—we have to make our own. How many times had I heard somebody’s sob story about how he lost his family because he worked too hard? But no, I was so sure it would never happen to me. It’s amazing Kyla put up with me as long as she did. What was I, nuts? I had a beautiful wife and two beautiful children who I never spent time with. I was at work before they even woke up. The only time they saw me was if they were up when I came home late at night. I wasn’t even there on the weekends. Putting in 16-hour workdays.

How could I have been so stupid? I actually believed that being rich would make us happy. Pathetic. And then I actually ran out of things to buy.

I wonder what I put in my will? I can’t even remember. Probably gave it all to Kyla. What is she going to do with all those millions? Give it away, probably. She never did care about money. She told me almost every week that money couldn’t buy happiness. I didn’t believe her.

I’m getting close to the ground; I can see the cracks in the sidewalk now. I close my eyes and wait. It should be any second now. …

A minute goes by, then another. I don’t want to open my eyes, so I wait.

Another minute, and yet another. Finally I open my eyes.

I’m in my bed. In my own house. Not lying splattered on the sidewalk. Kyla is lying beside me. An annoyingly persistent noise grabs my attention—it’s the clock beside my bed, alerting me to the fact that it’s now 5:30. Time to get up and go to the office.

What just happened? Was it a dream? It couldn’t have been a dream. I remember it all too clearly. The divorce papers Kyla had served me with, the whisky I had been drinking on the roof, the fall.

I turn off the alarm.

If it wasn’t a dream, I can only conclude that I have been given a second chance. It felt like something out of a movie. Whatever it is, I’m grateful for it.

I unplug the phone by the bed and turn the alarm clock off. Kyla will be astonished that I’m still here when she gets up later this morning. I haven’t taken a vacation in three years. Tomorrow we’ll go to the beach for a week. If my boss doesn’t like it, he can fire me. I don’t care. I might quit anyway.

I’ll tell him that I realized there’s more to life than money.

Gabriela Delorenzo

There are 1440 minutes in a day. Subtract the nine hours or so that my children sleep, and that leaves 900 minutes each day in which I am bombarded with questions, requests, tearful pleas, laughs, kisses, hugs, and messes.

At times, I feel overwhelmed as a mother. I have three small children, and their care is the most important thing in my life. It’s easy to get so caught up with chores that I neglect the most important part of homemaking—love. It was my children who recently reminded me what the best-spent minutes in my day are.

I was rushing around, trying to get the room cleaned before my baby woke up from his nap, when six-year-old Charlotte came with the sweetest smile and asked if I could put together a puzzle with her. I tried to persuade her that she should try and do it on her own, and explained that I really didn’t have time right then. The look of disappointment on her face showed that more than help with the puzzle, she wanted a few minutes with me. I stopped to consider what I was about to do. When Charlotte looks back on her childhood, what do I want her to remember—the clean room, or our times together? I played puzzles with Charlotte, we had some laughs, and I hugged her when we were done. Ten minutes well spent.

“Mommy, Mommy, please read me this book!” Three-year-old Cherise had already had three stories that night, and I was tired and wanted to get some work done before collapsing into bed myself. I tried to sweetly tell her no, but she persisted. What she really wants, I thought, is a little more attention from me, a few more moments to show me she loves me and to be assured of my love. I read her another story as we cuddled beneath my blankets, and she fell asleep on my shoulder. Fifteen minutes well spent.

It had been an especially busy week, as I was helping to prepare for an event for 100 underprivileged children, and today we were having guests over. My to-do list was overwhelming. Then my daughters asked if they could bake some cookies for our guests. I tried to reason with them. We didn’t need to bake cookies, because we had some from the store to offer our guests, plus I was really strapped for time. But I couldn’t resist their sweet, pleading faces. As they served the cookies to our guests, full of satisfaction at having made them almost entirely on their own, I was glad I had given in. Thirty minutes well spent.

My nine-month-old son Jordan can really keep me running around, trying to keep up with his antics, taking things out of his mouth, and keeping him away from our rambunctious pets. When he couldn’t sit still and play with something for one minute before crawling off into trouble, I became exasperated. He was whiny and cranky, and I was getting a headache. Somewhere in all the madness, I realized that maybe he needed some extra love, and so did I! So I took him into my arms and let him put his head on my shoulder while I gently danced with him. He loved it! After a little snack, he played happily by himself long enough for me to help the girls finish their schoolwork. Fifteen more minutes well spent.

In the course of our busy days and adult responsibilities, let us not forget that every minute we give our children is an investment in the future. The rewards will last for eternity.

Excerpted from Activated magazine. Used with permission.