Lately I’ve been paying attention to my eye contact and the way I touch people I love. It’s loosely part of my attempt to Love Extravagantly this year, in that I’ve noticed how different my kids act when I show affection more and irritation less.
Yes, I realize this wins the Oscar for Best Duh Moment of the year, but my irritation with everyone everywhere all the time is one of the main and consistent issues Bryan lovingly brings to my attention, so it’s kind of a big deal when I show signs of getting it.
So the other night after a long day, we slipped into our bedroom to Mr. Rogers our way into more comfortable clothes. There was much to catch up on, and as Bryan shared a story, I realized I was picking at a hang nail on my thumb and cleaning under my fingernails while I listened.
I’m a fan of multitasking like anybody else. It comes in handy for things like walking and chewing gum, cooking while yelling at the kids, and peeing while eating a bowl of cereal.
(That last example is hypothetical).
But relationships should be exempt from multitasking. Maybe not all the time; parenting is a marathon of multitasking. But in that stolen moment in the middle of our eleventh year married, I reached for his hand and met his eyes while he talked.
I also took a picture, but it totally didn’t kill the mood.