A friend from grade school shared with me that he had asked to be released from a time-consuming church calling to spend more time with his children.

Another friend lamented how his son had recently left for college, and he wished they had spent more time together.

My 6-year old son approached me after school, and asked if I’d play a computer game with him. What we do together matters little. He’ll throw a semi-flat football with me in the house until I tire out.

“Sure, I’ll play with you. Just give me a few minutes to finish my work.”

Just a few minutes turned in to a couple of hours. I got up from my desk and went looking for my son. I found him in his bed, fast asleep still wearing jeans and shoes.

It won’t be long till my son is throwing a football with friends. And then he’ll be off to college and I’ll be lucky to see him every few weeks, if sticks close to home. I could say the same thing about any of my five children.

Last weekend I needed a haircut and coaxed my two oldest sons to join me. Neither of them ever want to have their hair cut. “One more week,” they beg.

After each of us had a hair cut, we went next door to Subway, which is one of their favorite places to eat because they get to select each item that makes up their sandwich. My oldest son orders a simple turkey sandwich with lettuce. My 7-year old son orders a little of everything, including bacon and extra sauces that don’t sound like they would work together.

I tell myself that days like this make up for those where I postpone time together because I’m too busy.

From Scott Adams review of the iPhone 6

My heart was racing as I removed the phone from its strikingly well-designed packaging. Apple makes the process of opening a box feel as if you are winning a prize. Every color, shape, texture and probably smell has been studied and tweaked to perfection. Simply touching the product or its associated packaging is a tactile joy.

A textbook example of sweating the details.

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

                                                                                          Steve Jobs

My posts lately have been a little heavy. Life has been good, but transitions are seldom as simple as planned. But so many good things have happened lately that I wanted to write about that. As I write this, Kim is on the couch with at least three kids getting her butt kicked in Halo. That alone is enough to make me happy. But here are few more reasons.

1. We found a home in Santa Clara that we love.

2. I found a fantastic  and patient editor who has helped me improve my writing. Why didn’t I do this sooner? Even better, I was able to mend a friendship.

3. I reconnected with a friend from college. We spoke on the phone for an hour and it was as if we’d never lost touch.

4. Taran is finally sleeping through the night.

5. My oldest daughter sat next to me on the couch with her head on my shoulder for no reason. I kept expecting her to ask for new shoes, Pho or ice cream but it never came.

6. My mother’s health has improved to the point she can be home for now. My mother-in-law’s health has also gone from poor to good in under a year.

7. I feel as though a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I no longer dread the weekends, and am much happier.

8. I love watching small countries like Costa Rica perform so well in the World Cup. I’m rooting for the US team, but there’s something so exciting about watching a tiny country upset a powerhouse.

I glanced at my son as he drew his pool stick across the table to line up a shot. His eyes darted back and forth. All he had to do was knock in the 8 ball to win the game.

But the game didn’t matter.

What mattered was the ten bucks I had promised to the first kid who could beat me. I’m not a skilled player, but I’ve played enough over the years to not embarrass myself.

Watching Lincoln made me think of the afternoons I spent in our driveway hoisting up shot after shot on our unforgiving basketball standard. The thought of besting my dad at most sports was unthinkable, but I figured a few lucky bounces would give me the best chance to beat him at HORSE. Most games followed a familiar pattern: I’d be a letter away from winning until my nerves would get the best of me, and I’d choke the game away.

I had two solids on the table. All Lincoln had to do was knock in the 8 ball.

“Remember the $10 you promised?”

“Yep.”

He was thinking about the money instead of the shot.

“You’ll need to put a stop on the ball,” I told him.

“I know. I know.”

I stood back from the table to give him room and thought about how peaceful I have felt lately.  I’ve made a number of small decisions and one large one that could have rocked my life in ways I couldn’t anticipate, and I was expecting fallout after making my intentions public.

Yet all I felt in that moment was peace. Where it comes from I don’t know.

CRACK.

The 8 ball fell into the corner pocket. Followed by the cue ball and the sign of disappointment across my son’s face.

“Maybe next time.”

My ten dollars are safe.

At least for another day.

Amazon delivered two boxes. After a week spent packing and moving into a new home I wanted nothing to do them because inside were bed frames for Luca and Anna. I didn’t possess the mental capacity to assemble anything with dozens of small parts.

But the girls were excited. So I pushed one box toward their room and began putting pieces together. After a few minutes, Luca joined me. She sat on her mattress and began telling me about school and friends and exactly how much hair she wants trimmed.

It’s not often I get to listen to my daughter tell me about what’s important in her life without a single interruption. She turned 13 a few weeks ago. It doesn’t seem that long since I sat on the floor and watched Harold the Purple Crayon with her, trying to tune out the horrific tragedy of 9/11.

Moments like these are unpredictable and rare. I wonder how many of them I miss because I’m tuned out?

We finished assembling the bed frame. With the mattress in place, my work was done. I kissed Luca on the forehead, and headed up bed, happier than any father has a right to be.

I watched Beavis and Butthead with my sons.

I know, my kids are too young to be watching Beavis and Butthead, but I couldn’t resist watching the episode where the boys try to get a bag of sour cream and salsa pork rinds from the vending machine, but the bag gets stuck and Butthead calls Beavis a “fart-knocker” and it goes downhill from there. It’s up there with the one where Beavis photocopies his butt as my favorite episode.

It’s not like I made them listen to AC/DC’s “Back in Black” CD on the way to school, although I’ve done that as well. I listened to “Shook Me All Night Long” as a kid and I turned out just fine. Mostly.

Now that I work from home, I’m more likely to take part in their everyday activities instead of turn into Wonder Dad on Saturdays to make up for lost time. Not that those times weren’t fun, but I wasn’t around much to see them doing the mundane like…being kids.

On my son’s birthday two days ago, I spent the morning playing Skylanders with him while his three older siblings were at school. He turned 6 years old, and he’s full of opinions about the world. I sat on the couch while he stood next to me jumping up and down because his body couldn’t fully contain the excitement of the game.

That same afternoon my oldest son asked me to help him with math homework. He’s finally getting used to seeing me around the house before 7 pm. These and a number of similar experiences have convinced me that these are the moments I’ll look back on one day and proclaim they were the best years of my life.

I’m sure it’s wonderful to have grown children to be proud of as they head off to college, return from a mission, and eventually start a life with the person they love.  I look forward to those days, and there’s no shortage of parents with kids heading into adulthood who witness a worn-out father lugging a boisterous 1-year old son around the grocery store who say, “Just wait, the best years are ahead of you!”

I know they mean well, but they are wrong.

The best days of my life are happening right now on three interrupted hours of sleep. They are happening in the van on the way to school only to realize one child forgot her lunch and another his homework packet. They happen raking leaves together only to watch as many abandon the branches above as we fill the last bag. They happen while watching Cake Boss with the kids and not understanding even one of their inside jokes.

There’s plenty of time for them to grow into adults. I have no doubt those years will bring much joy as well.

But when my son crawls up on my lap, steals my hat and crawls away giggling with the hat pulled over his eyes— you can’t tell me life gets better than that.