Eat, Pray, Sleep OR The busy mom’s version of Elizabeth Gilbert’s best seller

I received my copy of Eat, Pray, Love from one of my BFFs, Linda. Not only was this book great, but it was so life changing/affirming that I gifted copies to many of those whom I love. However, I have to admit I was kind of disappointed when I found out it was being made into a movie. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Julia Roberts – she’s an amazing actress and, if interviews are real, she seems pretty normal. But honestly, this was one of those books I had a mental picture of the character and, at times, she REALLY resembled, well, ME. So this whole motion picture version totally upset the proverbially apple cart. Seriously though, I don’t think I’ve ever been THAT thin except when I was six. Anyway, let me explain…

Eat
Alright, let’s just be honest here – who wouldn’t love to take a year off from real life to gallivant around Italy to learn Italian and eat Italian food. That right there could totally sum up the differences. Not only can I not remember what was on the grocery list I left at home but there is no way I could learn a new language at this juncture in my life. And for what reason? To yell at my children to pick up their socks or ask my hubby why he can’t take out the trash when it smells like a landfill? Or more importantly, let’s visit the whole idea of eating Italian food (a.k.a carb overload) for an entire year. Without a doubt, my a@* would be as big as the wide side of a barn door. And how in the heck would I be able to loose that weight? No amount of running, weightlifting, Pilates, or exercise would be able to achieve that feat. The only thing I could think of would be that stomach stapling thing which I couldn’t afford even if it was something I found remotely appealing.

Pray
So while this may be TMI for some and redundancy for those that know me, I pray in the shower in the morning – out loud. I know, I know – really? But look, with my life – family, work, school, volunteering – by the time I get in bed at night, I’m falling asleep shortly after the words, “Dear G-d,”. So, essentially, since nothing gets said I shifted. Besides, I doubt there are that many people praying at that time of day so I feel I’m getting some really good quality time here. Or at least until one of my off-springs traipse into the bathroom. Here is a small glimpse of the conversation:

“Mom, who are you talking to?”
“I’m praying.”
“To G-d?”
“Yes. Who else would I be praying to?”
“G-d’s in the shower with you?”
“NO! – G-d is all around us.”
“You can really hear G-d over the shower?” (This statement requires a disclaimer – there have been numerous times that a sibling fight broke out when I was taking the 2.5 minute lightening shower. While my darlings are screaming from the living room about whatever travesty they have experienced, my standard response (in an effort for them to work out their problems and, quite honestly, my attempt at having a relatively peaceful shower, was that I couldn’t hear them over the shower.)
“Yes! Loud and clear! Get OUT!”

This lovely conversation resulted in an idea for the next blog: what is it that children understand and get from the idea of “prayer.” It also affirmed the notion that kids never need anything until the most inopportune times. If you still doubt this notion, walk into a room of children then either pick up the phone or try to go to the restroom. See?

The conversation also brought about interactions with my oldest children about praying. I simply asked them if they prayed, when, and why. It may seem a little intrusive but I was curious if not downright nosey. Christopher’s version was, as most pre-pubescent children’s answers tend to be, rather evasive, nonchalant, and flippant all at the same time. He informed me that he did pray, sometimes, when he needed something. Of course, my mind rushes to the failure I am as a parent to think my child is so self-centered to only concern himself with the latest material need. Much to my surprise, when asked what exactly was it that he needed that required prayer, he informed me that some days he needed a little extra help when he was having a bad day – when someone wasn’t nice to him, he needed help understanding something hard in school, or when he got in trouble and wasn’t sure what to do. This was also the same child who wanted to miss school to attend services during Rosh Hashanah because he missed “the praying and stories.” Maybe I am doing something right.

Sleep
This is the sacred cow of the busy mom’s/woman’s/parent’s life. Not only do we covet this notion, we also find it so elusive as to be an illusion when it might appear. I have to admit that there are times when I might actually consider not only giving my firstborn but all of my off-springs to the first person that could provide me with more that 5 consecutive hours of sleep. Have any of you read Ransom of the Red Chief? Disney also made it into a movie. The premise is these kidnappers snatched this set of kids from a wealthy family in the hopes of a windfall ransom. Unfortunately for them, the kids are such hellions that the kidnappers actually offer to pay the parents to take the kids back! We have two things working for us here: we have NO money and my kids are so bad we might actually get ahead with the reverse ransom. I’m thinking this is a win-win? N'est-ce pas?

Anyway, let me give you a glimpse into my past weekend. Youngest Alex decided that he wanted bedfellows around 3:30 a.m. on Sunday. By 5:30 a.m. he had attached himself to my side like a magnet. For someone who is still working with doctors to figure out why she has debilitating back pain, this is not a comfortable position. So I get up and move to living room floor where I strategically place all the requisite pillows and then go to get a blanket. Upon my return, I find middle son Simon entrenched in my “pillow nest.” I finally convince him that it is too early to get up and get him back to bed. As I stretch out amidst my pillows, I hear the cat crying loudly at the back door. Up I go to let him in, back to the pillows, and my blissful slumber. HA! The cat, who is clearly in cahoots with the children, decides that he needs attention. This particular cat doesn’t know he’s a cat – I honestly believe he thinks he’s a dog because of the way in which he licks the people he loves (or at least, feed him). While this is mildly irritating, it isn’t until he licks my closed eyelid that sends me into orbit at 7:00 a.m. Just for kicks and grins, if you want to know what this feels like, take a rough-grit piece of sandpaper and exfoliate your eyelid. All I have to say is DAMN – THAT HURTS! Then my lovely pet decides that he needs to “kneed” his declawed claws on my arm. While this is a sweet gesture of love and trust, it does get old after the initial twenty minutes – especially when I’m trying to sleep. Fine. I resign myself to the fact that, once again, I am not going to get that beloved, elusive weekend sleep. As I start the coffee, Simon comes into the living and plops himself onto the couch while informing me that his stomach hurts which is what he was actually trying to tell me when he got up earlier. Oops, my bad… Anyway, while trying to discern the authenticity of his claim, the poor child throws up. Not just once but in a trail from the living room to my bathroom. Of course, hubby Shelby walks in after the laying of the yellow barf road and asks if everything is okay. Thankfully, he springs into action to clean up the floor before the need to implement bodily harm. After no additional episodes, we decide the coughing from his allergies is to blame and no additional services are needed. However, the damage is done. There will be no sleeping here this morning. Like the mighty Casey, I have struck out.

So here we are – eat, pray, sleep. Of course, the love is there and understood. There has to be love somewhere around here or none of this other stuff would be possible or, at least, tolerable. And realistically, I could certainly do without the “eat” portion even if it is one of my favorite pastimes. I know I should cook more for my kids, but being married to a chef is one of the few luxuries in which I regularly indulge – for some reason, even his frozen chicken nuggets taste better than mine. As for the pray part, I’ll admit that my spiritual well being isn’t as good as it could be but I am trying and also trying to share those values with my children. There are days when, like most average moms, I feel like I desperately need to do more especially when my children call out to the lord for help with a video game. But, the sleep part, I still haven’t figured that one out. If any of you out there figures this one out, you will rise above the moniker of an “average” parent into the Hall of Fame of Superhero Parents. You might even get a book deal and be able to retire. But then again, who signed up for that?