Rewind

I have become very spoiled by the DVR machine on our TV. It is pretty convenient to pause a show when a tornado of kids comes storming through the house and no volume adjustment can compensate. It is addicting to tape a ten minute section of some show I know will later fascinate my boys, entertain my daughter, or enlighten the hubby. But it becomes scary when you find yourself trying to perform the same functions in other areas of life.

More than once I have reached for the dial on the car radio, intending to rewind what the DJ or forecaster has just said. I was pretty embarrassed by this fact until hubby admitted to me that he does the same thing.

I also find myself reaching for some obscure pause button when too many of my kids are talking at once. Common scenario, the grocery check out line. Daughter is pointing out celebrity pictures on the gossip magazines, fully expecting a comment from mom. Assorted sons are noticing a new brand of candy bar or some fun impulse gadget the store managers have so strategically placed in their line of sight. They also expect a reply from mom, even if its a half hearted, 'Um - hmmmm.'

Then there's that pesky check out girl. She wants to know if I have a store savings card, or coupons, or a preference in my shopping bags. Of course she expects an attentive answer to her inquiries.

And it all just makes me want to dig in my purse, find that magic remote and push the large PAUSE button.

I saw the Adam Sandler movie (Click). I know it would be tempting to pause the things I really don't want to miss. But maybe just for one day?.....

And if I get a pause button, can I have a rewind too? There are just a few precious moments I would love to revisit. Rocking chair baby snuggles. The last weekend I had with my mom (without knowing our time would be coming to an end). Any time I have been in the company of my siblings since we have become adults. The magical night in a red VW rabbit when a handsome man proposed a life together while the snow piled up outside and nearly trapped us in the car. The first day of every single one of my children's lives. The day I learned to ski for the first time, confident on my new titanium leg. Just about every night we shared a fire pit with our best friends in Utah.

It is hard to stop this list.

I promise I would use it wisely. So where can I order one of those nifty DVR remotes for my life?