At 2:00 in the morning I have my most profound revelations.
Last night (or rather early this morning) I had an epiphany that could change the way we view menopause and mothering. I fell asleep at the usual time, book on my chest, glasses askew on my face. Shortly thereafter I came to the surface just enough to stash my book and glasses, turn off the light and adjust my pillow. Ahhh.... But then, instead of sinking into REM sleep per usual, I was wide awake like someone had just screamed "FIRE!!" And what was the first thing that popped into my mind? My daughter. My 18 year old, red-headed daughter, who is finishing high school (by the skin of her teeth) and figuring out what next year will bring. Who has made some choices this year that, on paper sounded fine, grand even. But in reality did not pan out as promised and have me really concerned.
So I lose sleep. But instead of merely fretting and worrying, I am angry. Angry because at age 54, I am definitely ready for this to end. After 23 years of nurturing, soothing, worrying, loving, commiserating, adjusting, psycholigizing, praying, hoping, crying, laughing... I'm just about out of steam! I still love my kids dearly. Still want for them all the things I ever have. Still rejoice when they are successful and happy and share the times that are disappointing. But the difference is, when a problem arises that I know will need dissecting, counseling, working through, and loads of patience on my part, what I really want to say is, "GET OVER IT!" I just don't know how many more of these episodes I have left in me.
