Rachel wisdom

All the marvelous, lovely sleep I caught up on after I got back from Africa -- when I would, without apology, head to bed at 10 p.m. because, for Pete's sake, I was jet-lagged -- is being leached away, bit by bit, as I rush toward deadline for the magazine and worry about whether my new boss is going to like me and fret about all the things I'm not getting to, like writing up another book proposal or searching for more catering opportunities. Yeah, I'm a real joy to live with these days.

Anyway...Rachel and I were having a conversation about sleep at dinner. I told her that when I don't get enough sleep at night, I get cranky and tired and sad (depressed, really, but I didn't want to go into an explanation of what it means to be depressed).

"Sad about what?" Rachel asked.
"Sad about life," I replied.

She seemed to think for a second, and then said calmly:

"Sometimes life is not easy and that's how the way life works. Sometimes you're cranky, and sometimes you're not. So it's not a fair fight."

I don't even know what that means, but all I wanted to do at that very moment was take her in my arms and hug her and kiss her into staying the exact same age she is now.

***

When I get tired, I'm not as patient as I should be with Rachel. I never yell at her (or, God forbid, hit her), but sometimes I'm a little short. And I tend to nag her to finish whatever task she's doing. This morning as we were getting ready for school, she had to say, "I'm DOING it! PATIENCE, Mommy!" I was ashamed of myself. So who cares if we get to preschool later than I want and I get to work at 10:30 instead of 10? In the end, will it really matter?

Tonight I kept nagging her to finish dinner (a task I hate, but I was determined to give her a bath and get her to bed before, oh, 10) and at one point I had to raise my voice a little and say, "RACHEL. EAT. NOW."

A year ago she would have burst into tears but tonight she took it in stride. I guess that's progress.

I put her in bed at 9:15, went into the kitchen and started making my lunch, an elaborate salad that takes time to prepare and lasts a week. I started thinking about how our night had gone. Then at 9:30 I walked into her room.

"Hi, Mommy," Rachel said.

"Sweetie, you are the best daughter in the whole world," I explained. "Sometimes I'm tired and short with you, but it doesn't mean I don't love you. It's really important you understand that, OK?"

She reached out and gave me a hug. I hope she remembers this.