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By Sharon Dunski Vermont
“Shhhhhhh!” I tried to say as quietly, yet firmly as possible. “I’m old! I need sleep!”
I threw my head back on the pillow and tried to get some shut-eye despite the hushed laughter and whispering that filled the room.
I certainly wasn’t angry about all the commotion. I wasn’t even the least bit upset. I was simply tired. And at my age, tired is just not a good thing.
You see, I was at my daughter Hannah’s slumber party in celebration of her 10th birthday. We had rented a suite at a nearby hotel and piled 12 girls in sleeping bags inside. As the mom, I was the adult lucky enough to spend the night with them. And honestly, it really was a fun evening. I was, again, just very tired.
During the 18 hours of the party, the girls swam, used the hot tub we were fortunate enough to have in our room, ate — and ate — and watched several movies. By 11 p.m., I tried to get them to settle down and at least get into their sleeping bags, if not actually fall asleep in them. And most of the girls were happy to oblige. I even got under the covers in my bed (having the only bed in the room was, indeed, the fringe benefit of being an old lady) and drifted off. Yet a small but mighty group of four kids, which included my 7-year old younger daughter, tried to stay up all night. They giggled, told stories, acted silly and basically ignored that the calendar was flipping to the very next day.
Suddenly, I was reminded of the slumber parties I’d gone to almost 30 years ago, and I was keenly aware that although the millennium had changed, children haven’t. The stories these girls told, the games they played, the giggling and the laughter, it was as though they had been a fly on the wall at one of my parties all those years ago and decided to copy everything word for word.
Despite my utter fatigue, I was happy my daughter hosted a very fun and successful event. In fact, when the party was over, we heard a couple of the guests tell their moms the party was “one of the best parties ever!” I know Hannah felt happy, and that’s what really mattered to me.
The day the party ended, the couch was my best friend. I relaxed, watched TV and tried to catch up on all the sleep I’d missed the night before. But as fatigued as I was, I was equally as elated that I’d been able to give my child a night she’ll never forget. What more could a mother want out of life than to provide her children with good times and wonderful memories? I’d been reminded of my memories from long ago by the giggling girls in the middle of the night. It was as though my past experiences had been frozen in time. And now, I passed the good times on to my child.
This is one time I knew I’d been truly successful as a mom.
By Sharon Dunski VermontIt wasn’t until I was an adult that I actually saw a real life, honest to goodness rainbow. My family and I left a store one summer evening, only to discover the most amazing sight in the sky above us. My jaw actually dropped. My kids oohed and ahed. We just stared straight up for the longest time. I honestly believed we were witnessing a miracle.
I happened to have my camera in the car, but the pictures I took didn’t do the moment justice. Nothing could describe the complete and total awe I felt staring at that majestic arch of color. Inside, I believed I had, indeed, seen something truly divine. It wasn’t that I felt particularly religious at that moment. I felt, instead, a sense of reverence and respect for nature as I took in the attraction before me. So much of life can be ugly. Yet, I just received proof this world most certainly can offer us grace and beauty as well.
I’m quite certain most who saw that very same rainbow didn’t give it a second thought. We are, after all, a society of overscheduled, overcommitted people who have too many places to be and not enough time to enjoy any of them. We buzz through life, too busy to actually appreciate what we do. We hurry through lunch in order to get to a movie, which we hope will be out in time for a baseball game that needs to end so we can get to a party on time. By the end of the day, we’re exhausted and frustrated. We say we want and need more time, yet we continually waste the time we already have.
The truth is all we need to do is stop, look and enjoy, and life would seem so much more worthwhile. Quite often I find myself falling into the pattern of hurrying my kids through our day. Eat your breakfast. Now. Finish your homework. Now. Get ready for bed. Now.
But what if now became later, and we actually learned something along the way? What if we actually took the time to enjoy the bedtime story instead of reading it quickly so we could get enough sleep? What if our quick lunches between activities became more leisurely and we talked to one another just a little bit more? Maybe if we all just took a little bit more time in everything we did, we might do less but enjoy more.
As my family and I took in the awesome band of color in the sky that warm June night, my daughters asked me what was at the other end. On one hand, I could tell them the truth. Nothing. There’s not one thing of importance at the end of a rainbow. Yet, I opted instead to leave my girls with a bit of mystery. “I don’t know.” I said hesitantly. “What do you think we’d find?”
Why not let my girls hope, wish, and dream just a little bit. I was hoping to teach them to take time to stop and enjoy the many rainbows that they will undoubtedly encounter in their journeys through life. I want them to learn to slow down, take everything in to its fullest, and find meaning in each and every experience that they have. I want them to find hope and inspiration in their lives. I want them, ultimately to find true happiness.
After all, isn’t that what life is truly about?
By Sharon Dunski Vermont“Don’t forget about your blog this week,” the email from St. Louis Woman Magazine said.
And I sighed as I stared blankly at the computer screen. No, I hadn’t turned in my blog for the week. That was true.
On the outside, I appeared delinquent and lazy. Yet, the truth was that on the inside I was very much in pain. And that is why my blog was late. Because I knew what I wanted to say, and it hurt way too much to say it.
You see, last week, a friend called me to talk. However what she wanted to discuss was something that hurt my feelings more than they have probably ever been hurt before. And what’s worse was that everything she said was so blatantly incorrect and so completely misguided. She spoke based on assumptions and stereotypes and total ignorance. And yet, she was quite certain that she was right.
I abruptly ended the conversation, unable to speak for fear of crying; which is exactly what I did as soon as I hung up the phone. And I cried for hours. And I felt sick inside for days. And here it is, one week later, and I still can barely think about that night without wanting to shed more tears.
As the mother of two daughters, I expect to deal with mean girl issues and teenage intolerance of others. I know there will be plenty of times where I find myself consoling my children when someone has hurt them and wiping away their tears when they are faced with disappointment. Still, I naively believed that as a woman in her 40s, I never would have to face those problems myself ever again.
But I was wrong.
Why I ever thought that 42-year-old girl friends couldn’t hurt me like my prepubescent friends did is beyond me. I suppose I wanted to believe that adults are more respectful and supportive than young kids tend to be. However, I’ve learned I was wrong. And that makes me very sad.
My husband believes that I won’t feel better until I give the situation some sort of closure. He says I need to either speak with the person who’s hurt me or write her a letter explaining how I feel. The trouble is that facing your emotions can sometimes be very scary; which is why I haven’t contacted her. And why I haven’t written my blog until now.
One thing’s for sure: Ignoring the situation certainly won’t make it go away.
But putting it all down on paper has made me feel a little bit better — at least for the time being.
by Sharon D. VermontLife is busy and crazy and very complicated most days. Which is why I am thankful when my children remind me on a fairly regular basis of what is really and truly important. The memos that haven’t been sent yet and the patient charts that I need to finish just don’t matter, in the big scheme of things. Without them, life will still go on.
And yet, something as simple as a chocolate cookie — that can mean more than anything else sometimes.
At work today, the office was crazy. We were short a nurse, and the phones rang off the hook. I continually felt about 10 steps behind, and I know my coworkers did, as well.
On the home front, my daughter Hannah missed school today because of strep throat. She was achy and feverish and completely miserable. Fortunately, today was my husband’s day off, so he was with her while I worked. Yet, being a mom, I couldn’t stop thinking about my sick child. I called her several times between patients. During one of our conversations, she mentioned going to Hebrew School in the afternoon.
“Honey, you’re not going to Hebrew School!” I told her gently. “You’re sick, remember?”
“But mom,” she began with a hint of tears in her voice. “Today’s the day we’re supposed to eat the Israeli cookies we made last week!”
“But, you’re sick.” I reminded her again.
“But, the cookies…,” her voice was so sad.
I promised to email the Hebrew School director and get the recipe so we could make the cookies at home. I think Hannah felt better just hearing I cared.
In 20 years, when Hannah is a grown woman, she’s not going to care whether our house was clean or whether I finished all my charts at the office. She is, however, going to remember very clearly each and every time that I tried my best to be a good mother and each and every time that I failed.
Of course, all of us will fail at least a few times, at whatever it is we do in life. Be it motherhood, daughterhood, or whatever else we try to accomplish, we’re never going to get it right all of the time. Yet, we need to do our best to show the important people in our lives how much they mean to us. Whether it’s by baking Israeli cookies or just hanging out together on the couch, those special times will stick with our loved ones forever.
Tags: A Piece of the Pie, Hebrew School, cookies, Hannah
Thus, when I’m tired and frustrated and feeling overwhelmed, I go to my kids for a reality check. They know what’s important in life. And it’s certainly not work. It is, instead, love and laughter and friendship and time with the people they care about most.
So, I try to spend a lot of quality time with my family doing what ever it is that we feel like doing together at that particular moment.
And those are the times that truly give my life meaning………
by Sharon D. Vermont“My doctor is ordering a sleep study to find out why I’m tired all the time,” I told my mother recently.
“Do you think that, just maybe, you’re tired because you do way too much?” my mom suggested knowingly.
“Huh?” I was skeptical.
“Well, you work, you write, you take care of your family, and you put a million miles a day on your car. I’m certainly no doctor. But, couldn’t all your running around be the cause of your fatigue?”
Hmmmm…
As much as I hated to admit it, my mother had a very good point. Like many women of my generation, I often find myself more than just a little bit overcommitted. We 30- and 40-somethings often were raised to believe that we actually can do it all — and do it all well. As if it wasn’t enough that I’m a part-time pediatrician, free lance writer, and full-time wife and mother, I’m also the room-mother for both of my daughters’ classes at school. In addition, I help out with Brownie meetings, volunteer in my girls’ classrooms on a regular basis and drive several carpools. I suppose I do tend to overdo things on occasion. Maybe I don’t need a sleep study after all.
So, what can women today do to reduce the self-induced stress we all feel?
Quit everything. It’s that simple.
Obviously, I can’t quit working or being a mom. Yet, I can take a look at my schedule and cut everything that isn’t educationally, financially or medically necessary. And that’s what I’ve been slowly trying to do over the past couple of years. Now, however, I’m getting even tougher on my calendar and cutting way back. No more evening activities for my kids that cut into family dinner time; No more competitive activities that involve driving my children all over the metro area on weekend mornings; and no more days with back-to-back commitments.
I am, after all, worn out.
And, truth be told, so are my daughters. Somehow, it just doesn’t seem fair to force them out of their comfy chair at 7 p.m. just so they can do gymnastics for an hour. And I’m tired of telling my girls they can’t play with a friend because of choir practice. I know there always will be families who encourage their children to spend 12 or more hours per week in the pool or at the gym or on the field. Yet, I simply refuse to be one of those families.
I’m rallying for more family meals, more time to play board games before bed and more weekends having fun with my husband and daughters. So forget all the activities that I’ve been brainwashed into thinking are good for my girls. Let’s hear it, instead, for good old quality time together, in our house, with one another.
Maybe then, I won’t feel so exhausted all the time.
Something to consider, don’t you think?
