So it was the case yesterday that, prompted by a philosophical and moral question posted on a Facebook group page that I follow, that I came to watch the scene in the movie Sophie's Choice where Sophie makes her fateful "choice." There, on the small YouTube screen on my computer, I watched with terror as the Nazi guard hauled away Sophie's little girl, Eva, to her horrible, horrible fate.
What the hell was I thinking? What mom can watch that and not envision her child's face on those of the child actors? And why do I do this to myself?
Of course, being the research hound that I am, I had to do some investigation about how that scene was made: who was the little girl playing the role of Eva? Where was the scene filmed? How did the cast and crew treat the children? Was she really, really frightened or just a really good actress at the age of, say, 4 or 5? A bit of sleuthing revealed that the young girl, now a grown woman, never acted again as that scene terrified her, but that she had a good relationship with Meryl Streep and, when filming that scene, she was scared of being taken away from Ms. Streep. She is now alive and well and literally living in Paris as a successful Vice President of an international insurance firm. Her Facebook page shows a photo of a resplendent bride, next to her groom, at a gorgeous chapel somewhere in Europe. She is on LinkedIn with one of my friends from high school, too. Who knew?
At this point, I did my best to refocus my thoughts on David and Elizabeth. It was Wednesday, the day I leave work a bit early to pick up the kids from school and go home. Boy, was I glad to see them! I hugged them a little tighter, gazed at them a little longer, and kissed them a few extra times. Heck, I even let David stay up late and catch the first two episodes of The New Normal on my iPad.
But, even today, this morning, I am still sick to my stomach. And, yet, I wonder if this is a symptom of something deeper.
I've realized over the past few weeks that this long-distance, commuter marriage deal has made me very tired. No, I'm in it for the long haul and for as long as we need to do this, and I've got Glen's back on this. But, I'm not going to sugar-coat it: it's difficult, and made more difficult by the fact that I signed up to be a volunteer for, like, EVERYTHING this year. I'm the president of the kids' school's parent organization, I'm on the Board of Trustees for my high school, I'm the leader for David's Cub Scout Den, and I've signed on to lead a Daisy Girl Scout troop for Elizabeth (who desperately wants to be a Scout like her big brother). Oh, and I have one more year as president of my high school's alumni association. And maintaining work-life balance has become more difficult as I try, as hard as I can, to please and be accountable to my co-workers. And I write this knowing that, in about 10 minutes, I need to step out and take my constipated, 14-year old cat to the vet. Again.
I rationalize that, with the exception of my work with my high school, pretty much everything I've committed myself to is for David and Elizabeth. All of this is scheduled between gymnastics on the weekend, drum lessons, tennis lessons, Cotillions (which starts tonight), and David's heavier homework load this year.
All the while, I gripe yet try very, very hard to remind myself that I am so lucky to have these commitments, challenges and responsibilities. I have David and Elizabeth. Consider the photos above: these are two of the most self-starting kids I've seen ... especially when it comes to doing their homework.
But, this is hard. This is really, really hard. And watching depressing movies doesn't help in the least. I can't wait for next Tuesday's new episode of my new favorite sitcom.
