I've written short stories and poems my entire life, but have attempted to write professionally since 2005. I have written three books thus far, but am constantly working on new stories each day. I also pen out free stories on my Imagination Alley blog and conduct interviews and write short stories at my second blog, Lisa's Place. I am constantly changing, growing, and learning as I continue down this path. I've recently completed my first screenplay, which is now in the editing stages. I have always been a dreamer and will continue to strive for my dreams and reach for the stars. I hope you'll take this adventure with me as I pen out my stories, you find them entertaining, and you'll fall in love with the characters as I have with each story I've written in novels, screenplays, or on my blogs. I enjoy hearing from readers so feel free to drop me a line or visit me at my blogs or find me at facebook, twitter, or google+. Thanks!
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Cheryl Shireman
To My Beloved Children,
(Rocky, Lee Anne, and Scarlett)
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I’m a Baby Boomer. All three of you know that. But let me explain a bit more about what that means. It means that I remember bell-bottoms, Happy Days, and having only three channels on the television. I know, you cannot imagine such a thing. Three channels! I played Donny Osmond albums on a record player (yes, record player). My parents watched Gunsmoke, and on Sunday nights we all watched The Wonderful World of Disney in the living room on the only television we owned. Imagine that! One television and it was black and white! I was shocked when I finally saw Bonanza in color. I remember the first time I heard about remote controls for televisions. The whole idea seemed ridiculous. With three channels, really, how often would a remote be needed? I remember the Watergate hearings playing on the television when I came home from school. Watergate. Yes, I know, you have probably heard of it, but don’t really know (or care) about what happened oh so long ago.
I also remember watching feminists (does anyone use that word anymore?) burn their bras and march for equal rights. I grew up believing that a woman deserves equal pay for equal work and that a woman is not defined by the man she marries or by the children she gives birth to. In fact, women of my generation were told that both men and children were optional. We didn’t have to be a mother or wife. The idea seemed revolutionary at the time. It still does. Women were mad as hell and they weren’t taking it anymore. We called it Women’s Liberation, and though it was never said, it was certainly implied (and believed in most circles) that a woman who did not work was a bit inferior to a career woman. That was when such women were called housewives and not “stay at home” moms. Women were divided into two groups – those who worked and those who didn’t. Back then, no one thought that staying home and taking care of a family and home was real work. The women of my generation wanted more, demanded more, and believed we were entitled to just that – more. We sometimes looked at our own mothers, most of whom did not have real jobs, as women who simply did not understand that there was more to life than being a mother. If truth be told, we thought they were a bit simple-minded and we secretly vowed to do more with our lives.
And yet...as this Baby Boomer looks at her life, I realize nothing I have ever done, or will ever do, is as important as being a mother to you. Not career, volunteer work, graduate school, or any creative pursuit. Nothing else even comes close. Period.
To say that you have filled my life with love and joy is an understatement. You expanded my heart in ways I could never have imagined. For the first time in my life, I not only understood, but received unconditional love - from you. As adults, you are three people that I know I can always count on. You will always be there for me. Just as I will always be there for you. Can I say the same about a career? That “goal” that once seemed so important. Honestly - no, not really. Careers come and go. Great accomplishments lessen with time. But a child’s love? It never lessens.
There used to be a tv show called Fantasy Island. It was way before your time. People visited the island and lived out their fantasies – no matter how wild (okay, not that wild – this was primetime family tv in the seventies). Not too long ago, I was talking to someone about that old tv series and we asked each other – What would your fantasy be? Mine was easy. I knew in an instant.
If I could have a Fantasy Island day, I would relive one day with you. Rocky, you would be 10, which would make Lee Anne and Scarlett 4 and 2. We would spend the day doing whatever you wanted. Going to the park, going to the movies, playing games, baking cookies, or just sitting on the floor playing with Legos and Barbies. I wouldn’t miss a moment. I would hug you a lot. And kiss the tops of your heads. And take tons of pictures. I wouldn’t cook. I wouldn’t clean. And I wouldn’t worry about my career.
I would watch you, Rocky, as you show your younger sisters how to do things, like you always did in your older brother sort of way. And I’d spend hours building a Lego castle with you. I wouldn’t even complain when, later that afternoon, you would tear apart all of our work to build something else. That always drove me crazy. I didn’t realize, then, that it was the act of building that you enjoyed, not the final result. I wish I would have spent more time building with you.
On that fantasy day, I would watch my two-year-old Scarlett follow her older four-year-old sister around the room, shadowing Lee Anne’s every move. I would watch Lee Anne taking care of Scarlett, as if she were her baby. Which is what Lee Anne called Scarlett when she was born – my baby. I wish you could remember that, Lee Anne. I would tell you, “No. Scarlett is our baby. We have to share her.” Unconvinced, you used to shake your head and reply, “No. She’s my baby.” It doesn’t surprise me that when you went to Indiana University, Scarlett followed you there two years later.
We would have whatever all you wanted for dinner - whether it was pizza or ice cream and cake. And if you did want cake, we’d have candles too. Just like it was your birthday. You could all take turns blowing out the candles.
Bedtime would be later than usual on that fantasy night, because I would be reluctant for our day to end. I would tuck you into your beds, fresh from baths and smelling of shampoo. You girls smelling like baby lotion. I’d hug Rocky goodnight and you would hug me with your long skinny arms and tell me you love me. And I would feel the truth in that. Then, down the hall, I would tuck you girls in and tell you it is time to go to sleep - knowing that you will talk for at least half an hour after I leave the room. I would take extra care in covering Lee Anne’s feet, because you always kicked your blankets off during the night. I would kiss Scarlett and hold her a little longer, because I would know that, one day she will move to Denmark, and then New York City, which makes visiting tough.
As I walk back down the hall and turn out the lights for the night, I would call out to all of you, as I always did... “Goodnight. Love you. Sweet dreams. See you in the morning.” And all of you would respond with the same words - to me and to each other.
That would be my fantasy day. A day with you when you were little. Oddly enough, it never crossed my mind to think of a fantasy involving my career as a writer. No fantasy of being number one on the New York Times Bestsellers list. No fantasy of being interviewed by Oprah. Despite growing up as a “liberated woman” in the Baby Boomer era, when it comes to achievement, the three of you are always first on my list.
Would my current life be as fulfilling if I had not pursued a career and graduate school and developed the skills I am using now? Probably not. I managed to combine work and school and motherhood. If I had not pursued my own dreams, my nest would have been even emptier once you left. Like most women of my generation, I believed I could have it all, and do it all, but to be honest – you always came first. Everything else was just fluff. Being a mother is the strongest and best part of my identity. It is the thing I am most proud of. My greatest achievement. And, once in a while, I miss those days when toys where scattered across the floor, the washer was always running, and we bought eight gallons of milk a week.
Now, in addition to you, I have two granddaughters (so far!) to love. And you know how I love those girls. How obsessed I am with them, how I hang on their every word, their every move. Just remember, my babies, I once was obsessed with you and hung on your every word, your every move. And, if you promise not to tell anyone, I will share a confession. I still feel exactly the same. I’m still obsessed with you. I still hang on your every move, your every word. But, as you became adults I had to learn to back off of that a bit. Believe me, it wasn’t easy. Because even though you are all adults now, every time I see you I want to throw open my arms and have you run into them - just as you did so long ago.
But, now, I resist that urge and contain it to my grandchildren - your children. And the best part of hugging those grandbabies is that when I hug them, I also hug a piece of you.
Reader - if you have children at home, cherish those simple every-day moments with them. They really will be gone in the blink of an eye – sooner than you can possibly imagine. Put this book down. Now. Go sit on the floor and play a game. Pop some popcorn, put on one of their favorite movies, and cuddle up on the couch. Live that “fantasy” right now. You will never be able to recapture these moments again. Enjoy them now. There is no greater gift than the love of your children. Spend the rest of your day letting it pour over you. And pour your love right back over them.