Let me tell you about the most expensive hour I've spent all month. It didn't cost me a dime.
Two days ago I took my kids to the pool at the Legacy Center. If you've been, you know they've got that whirlpool section that grabs you and boosts you along like a lazy river with a caffeine problem. We turned it into zombie tag. It was so much fun that other kids started asking to join, and pretty soon I was the head zombie of half the pool. The first hour, I was all in. Dad of the year material. Then business came up. I sat down "for a minute," and my phone found its way into my hand the way it always does. Emails. A text about the flip. Something for the brokerage. Something for one of the side businesses. All important. All urgent. All totally justifiable.
Then Asher swam over. His goggles were pushed up on top of his head, and he had those red rings around his eyes where they'd pressed in. He looked right at me and said, "Hey, how come you were here but you really weren't here?"
I'll never forget that face. Those little goggle dents are burned into my brain now, a reminder of the moment my kid had to swim across a pool to find out where his dad went.
The lie I keep telling myself
Here's what's going on in my life right now. I just bought a brokerage. I'm building a real estate business. I've got two small companies on the side and an investment property I'm trying to flip. And every one of those things, I tell myself, is about my family. More freedom later. More time later. More options later.
That's the trap. I've been trading time with the people I love for things I believe will buy me more time with the people I love. Read that back and it sounds a little ridiculous, doesn't it? It does to me too.
And the guilt is real. Not the motivational poster kind. The kind that shows up at night when you realize you can't remember what your kid said at dinner because you were "just checking one thing."
Maybe you know exactly what I'm talking about. Maybe you're reading this on your phone right now while someone you love is in the next room. No judgment. I'm right there with you.
Be where you are when you are there
There's a line I've held onto for a long time: be where you are when you are there. It's simple enough to fit on a sticky note, and it's one of the few things that has actually changed how I live. When I live it, I'm a better dad, a better husband and a better guide for the people I work with. When I forget it, I end up at a pool with my body in one place and my brain in five others.
What I'm trying instead
I don't have this figured out. But here's what I'm working on, and maybe some of it helps you too.
- Skip first period and go to breakfast. Every so often, I let one of my kids skip first period and I take them out to breakfast, just the two of us. No siblings, no errands, no phone on the table. This morning was one of those, and it's my favorite way to be fully there. One kid, one table, nowhere else to be.
- Put the phone somewhere else. Not face down. Not on silent. In the car, in the bag, in another room. If I can reach it, I'll reach for it. Willpower is not my strong suit at 4 PM on a Tuesday.
- Decide before you show up. Before I walk into the pool, the park or the dinner table, I decide how long I'm all in. One hour, fully present, beats three hours half there.
- Tell your kids the plan. "I need ten minutes to answer a client, then I'm yours." Kids are surprisingly fair when you're honest with them. What they hate is the slow fade, where you're technically there but mentally in an inbox.
- Let them catch you. I told my kids they're allowed to call me out when I'm here but not here. That's humbling. It's also working.
- Stop pretending the phone is the problem. The phone is the tool. The real problem is the story I tell myself, that this one message matters more than this one moment. Usually it doesn't. The email will be there in an hour. My kid at this age won't.
- Remember to breathe. When I feel the itch to check, I take one slow breath and look at what's actually in front of me. It sounds small. It's not.
- Come back to the line. Be where you are when you are there. When I catch myself drifting, I say it in my head and look up. Writing it here is my way of picking it back up.
Here's the thing
I love my work. I'm proud of what I'm building, and I believe it will give my family a better life. But I'm learning that the future I'm working for is made of the moments I'm missing right now.
So this is me saying it out loud: I'm working on it. If you are too, you're in good company.
And if your kid ever swims over and asks why you're here but not really here, don't argue. Just put the phone down and jump back in.
The water's fine.