I began calling shopkeepers and neighbors near our place upstate to see if someone had a line on a Christmas tree for us. Finally I found Peter, the cheerful owner of an outdoor retail store not far from where we live. I pleaded with him to help me find a nursery or a group of Cub Scouts who had Christmas trees for sale. He promised to call me back shortly. Two minutes later, bingo! Not only had he located a tree, but he offered to deliver it to our garage to save Al and me the trouble. What a great guy. Christmas was saved!
Relieved, I called Al right away with the good news, privately gloating how it took a woman to turn a near catastrophe around. Once again, it was Mommy to the rescue. So I was flabbergasted by his chipper tone.
“We don’t need a tree. We got one! Look at your e-mail,” Al offered in a matter-of-fact tone.
I had been so busy tracking down a tree I hadn’t checked my messages for an hour. When I looked at my phone and saw Al’s e-mail, I was stunned. There was a photo of him and Nicky grinning and high-fiving as they showed off a beautiful Virginia fir. They were having a great time and even sent a little video of the two of them growling in excitement like two mountain men. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry.
“It’s the holidays! Chill out! It’s all fine. I’m a lumberjack, and guess what? I’m okay!” Al said, quoting Monty Python.
AL
Deborah was seriously annoyed until she realized what a great time Nicky and I had had. The holidays can be a hectic time and can bring out the anxious side in all of us. I have found the secret to getting through the harried and trying moments is to remember that things have a way of working out. Even when someone has a full head of steam and the temper train has left the station, just take some deep breaths and let them vent until the moment passes.
Sometimes the most unexpected moments produce the very best memories, even—or should I say, especially—during the holidays. When things don’t go the way you planned, be open and be flexible. They might turn out even better!
I hadn’t planned on cutting down my own tree, but there we were, smelling the fresh pine, with sap all over my hands and pants and loving every minute of it. It doesn’t get more authentic than that. Nicky had a great story to tell his friends, and we had an amazing father-son experience doing something neither of us will ever forget.
The best part of all?
This time I had a minivan and didn’t have to strap that damn tree to the roof!
DEBORAH
Al and I learned a lesson about the importance of communication. Or I certainly did, anyway. If I had simply taken Al’s call or if we had thoroughly discussed our feelings about either buying a tree or getting it ourselves, we could’ve avoided a stressful afternoon. I also learned that the two words “communication” and “information” are often used interchangeably but they really aren’t the same. “Information” is about giving out and “communication” is about getting through. In the end, family harmony is all about talking to each other even when you don’t think it’s important. After twenty years of marriage, one thing I have learned is that communication is always key. Clarifying what you want and taking the time to listen can solve a multitude of problems and misunderstandings. It takes only a few minutes to talk things through. But it can take hours to smooth out a problem.
Family moments are not always going to be tied up with a beautiful, shiny bow. But cherish every one just the same. They become lovely memories even if they didn’t unfold exactly as you thought they would. In the moment they may be exasperating and chaotic, but appreciate that you are together. For most of my life I was the type of person who wanted everything to be perfect, beautiful and seamless, like the advertisements for Hallmark cards I grew up with. That was my picture of a happy life. But the truth is that happy is sometimes messy and disorganized and definitely imperfect. Moments that are disappointing at first can turn into the funniest and fondest memories.
DEBORAH
What’s the Hurry?
I am a very high-energy person, maybe even a bit manic at times! After a jolt of coffee, I generally hit the ground running first thing in the morning and just go, go, go. When it comes to getting things done, I’m a lot like that famous athletic swish—I JUST DO IT! I have a daily regimen mapped out that I follow on a regular basis. Sometimes the details change, but the routine primarily stays the same.
I am one of those people who rarely use an alarm clock. I have a middle schooler who gets up at about five forty-five or six a.m. So the minute I hear those footsteps upstairs . . . BAM! It’s go time. The Energizer Bunny’s got nothing on me! I get out of bed and within minutes my mind is racing with ideas and questions about the day ahead.
What blouse should I wear to interview a police detective?
Did I remember to move the parent-teacher conference since I’m shooting today?
What about the expired car registration? Is Al handling that or should I?
Remind Leila—again—to turn in the note for her excused absence.
And did we get a gluten-free cupcake for Nicky’s classroom celebration?
Oh boy. So much to sort out!
But after a cup of coffee—half caffeine only (doctor’s orders)—I’m good to go.
After making breakfast for the kids and sending them to school with our sitter or dropping them off myself, I have forty-five minutes of “me time” for a workout.
No matter how chaotic it all is, exercise will be squeezed in somewhere. It is my secret weapon. Since college, I have been an avid runner. When I worked at a local station in Orlando, I ran 5 and 10Ks on weekends. Running is my sanity. Twice a week I wedge in a forty-minute trek through Central Park. No earbuds, just the gentle sounds of birds and ducks, punctuated by an occasional screeching cab in the background. There’s nothing like that burst of adrenaline I get while pounding the crunchy dirt along the bridle path or around the reservoir. Some days it’s a tough slog. My stomach feels tight and I can barely get my achy knees to move forward, but somehow I do. And as I round the corner toward my turnoff, that dopamine, the happy brain chemical, kicks in. I am overcome with an exhilarating feeling of victory. My mind and spirit take charge. Now I can face other obstacles!
Running is like brain medicine for me, but these days my body doesn’t take the pounding as well as it used to. I’ve had shoulder and knee pulls. So I’ve been spending more time on strength training and floor work. I’m fortunate to be able to splurge on a personal trainer at least twice a week to punish me with twenty-pound weights, boxing gloves and killer plank exercises. By eight a.m., I’m usually asking myself, “Why would any sane person invite someone to inflict early-morning physical torture!” But within fifteen minutes, my brain fog clears and I have found a happy place.
By nine a.m. I am physically pumped, clearheaded and energized for my day. Within minutes I am showered and out the door to ABC, where that strength training really pays off.
• • •
Don’t ask me where this blast of energy comes from. I call it mania. Maybe it is a chemical imbalance. But I have been driven for most of my life, which helps, given my unpredictable schedule. Recently I left the house at five thirty a.m. for a flight to Columbus, Ohio, to interview a man suffering a rare illness. Five hours later I was back on a plane, flying home so I could be there to see the kids off to school the next day. As hectic and tiring as it was, it was worth it! My producer and camera crews don’t always see it that way when I ask to keep rolling, but when I offer to spring for dinner, all is usually forgiven.
I’m just as aggressive outside of work as I am at the office. If a cabdriver is taking Sixth Avenue instead of Madison Avenue to get uptown, it drives me nuts. The green lights are so much longer on Madison. I thought everyone knew that?
But this same trait that helps me manage my busy life has a negative side. For example, Leila routinely calls me out for finishing her sentences. “Mom, let me finish, PLEASE!”
she begs.
My teenage daughter is also quick to point out how annoying it is when I talk over people—even if it’s out of enthusiasm. I try to catch myself, but I have to admit, she is right.
I am learning to slow down and reel it in a little, but it’s an effort. I try to listen patiently, but sometimes I want the short version. Let’s cover this subject and move on to another.
I often complain to Al that we don’t spend enough time sharing the details of our day. In an effort to share with me one night, he began to tell a story about a shoot he had that day with the cast of Ghostbusters for the thirtieth anniversary of the movie’s debut.
“Bill Murray was running late,” he told me, and then rattled off lots of details about what he, Sigourney Weaver and the others had chatted about before the cameras rolled.
As Al went on and on with his story, my eyes began to drift and my mind wandered. I really was interested in his day, but I was also waiting for an opening to say Pepper still had to go for a walk before we got into bed.
Yikes!
I was doing it again. I was allowing my thoughts to race ahead and not really listening. This is such a negative habit—one I’d like to break. My son can attest to this for sure.
Since Nicky struggles with learning and processing delays, he takes in information at a slower pace than many of us. It also makes it harder for him to express his ideas, and he’ll stammer through an explanation or a story. But I’ve come to realize that I can be part of the problem! Maybe it’s doubly hard to process language when the other person is speaking a mile a minute. A few weeks ago, he was telling me about a book report he was doing on Jackie Robinson. After a few ums and uhs, I started jumping in to fill the gaps. “So you need pictures? Will you talk about his wife, Rachel?”
“NO!” he finally said. “I already have a plan.”
“Oops.” Suddenly, embarrassingly, I realized that if I just slowed down, maybe he’d feel more comfortable explaining it. I took a breath and slowly asked him to tell me all about it, hanging on to his every word. And sure enough, he articulately detailed his plan for the essay. I was so proud of him. I was also proud of me. My son had taught Mom a serious lesson. If I can just slow down, I can enjoy my kids and maybe even the world a bit more.
I actually love getting critical feedback from my kids, and I take it to heart. As the old expression goes, “Out of the mouths of babes . . . wisdom comes.” Both of my children can be so wise in their observations and interpretations of life. They are in tune with their feelings and are brave enough to share them (when they can get a word in edgewise). Sure, there are times I walk away feeling bad, hoping my children won’t grow up with memories of a hard-charging mom who was more of a talker than a listener. But I think lately I’m showing them that I’m willing to try harder and to change.
Last summer I made great progress. One Saturday Leila and I were home alone. Al had taken Nicky with him on a trip to Washington, DC. After a rare day of sleeping in and a run through the park, I came home to find Leila still in her pajamas and making a smoothie.
“So what shall we do today?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe just sit around and chill.”
Hmm.
Later, I joined her on the couch for an episode of The Real Housewives of New York City. As Ramona began lighting into someone, I couldn’t take it anymore. I suggested we go for manicures or to the Jeff Koons art exhibit. Then Leila offered a firm dose of wisdom.
“Mom, why can’t you just be?” she pointedly asked. “You know you don’t always have to have a plan . . . or something to do. Sometimes life is calmer if you can just do nothing.”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. My sweet daughter was absolutely right. There is no reason that every single moment of every single day must be filled with something. When it’s time to work and do . . . boy, do I work and do. She has seen me in action many times and even told me how much she admires my work ethic. But it’s just as important that my children know that I value calm and peace.
For the rest of the day, Leila and I did nothing. We made tea, watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s and chilled.
It was wonderful.
My friend Brenda, who has two grown children, recently told me that your family feeds on your energy. How right she is! My goal is to make sure that my energy is positive and calm. I know that there will be days when we are running late for the dentist or tae kwon do. But it’s up to me to help make those frenetic moments less stressful and even meaningful.
I think I am on my way.
Nicky started a new school in the fall of 2014. On his first day, the bus was very late and he was anxious, so I calmly offered to get the car and we drove. As he fretted, I relaxed, telling him that finally I would see what it’s like to get to another part of the city in the morning traffic. We laughed and he relaxed. When we finally pulled up in front of the school, we gave each other high fives. I offered him a drink from my water bottle and he sprinted up the stairs.
“You okay?” I called.
“Yup!” he shouted with confidence.
Maybe I’m getting the hang of it.
11
The Importance of Friendships
DEBORAH
Your Husband Can’t Be Your End-All
Michelle Obama is an impressive, powerful woman, but she also comes off as the kind of woman you’d like to have as one of your girlfriends. Maybe that explains her widespread popularity. I first interviewed her a few months before the 2008 election, and I admired her intelligence and candor. A few years later, I was deeply inspired by something she said in another interview: “Your husband cannot be your be-all and end-all.” Early in his career, Mrs. Obama was frustrated by her husband’s frequent absences as he worked tirelessly as a community organizer. Often she found herself at home with the kids, feeling resentful and angry. It’s a common scenario many women can relate to these days. But Michelle Obama didn’t remain angry and upset; she discovered something that I now understand too: the value and the rescuing power of friendships with her girlfriends. Every word Michelle Obama spoke about the importance of female friendships resonated deep within me, as I knew what she said was true.
In the beginning of a romantic relationship, it can feel like this other person is the sun, the moon and the stars and that you’ll never again need anyone else. Like most couples, Al and I were best friends bonded by that powerful biological attraction that early love brings. But, of course, after years of marriage and the draining power of that other biological wonder called children, the single-minded intensity of our relationship waned. He doesn’t understand why I keep droning on and on about someone who annoyed me or why I sometimes feel irritable instead of sexy after the kids finally go to bed and I discovered one of them jammed a DVD into my computer and deleted all of my phone contacts “by accident.” At those moments all I want to do is pass out . . . or simply vent. The last thing I want is sex. That’s a situation where those estrogen alliances come in real handy! There are feelings women share that men simply don’t have the capacity or the interest to understand.
As much as we love each other, Al and I are indeed from Mars and Venus. He can’t understand why I like to talk late into the evening or maybe into the next day about someone who insulted me or grated on my nerves.
“Either tell them about themselves or move on,” he says.
After we’ve watched a particularly disturbing or provocative movie, I want to discuss it more before bed. Was the ballerina imagining all those crazy acts in Black Swan or did they really happen? Why did the The Help strike such a chord and make its way to the Oscars?
Al is happy to discuss these things for a bit, but then he wants to move on to other things.
“Why beat a dead horse?” he wants to know.
For me, that’s where close girlfriends come in.
Like me, most of my
female friends want to talk about who and what is bothering us. Yes, we want to resolve a situation and trade advice on how to handle it, but we also want to lay out our feelings about whatever it is and then discuss the implications.
My friend Agenia and I can talk for an hour about a fight we had with our husbands and why they are wrong, or how a colleague just drives us crazy. When we hang up the phone, both of us feel heard and validated in ways that our men simply can’t seem to understand or have the patience for. Rather than get annoyed by Al’s lack of understanding for these types of things, I’ve learned to save certain topics for a female friend, to be shared over a cup of coffee—or better yet, a glass of wine.
I am fortunate to have an amazing “sisterhood” of women in my life, Robin Roberts among them. Robin and I not only have a last name in common, but we also share a deep commitment to family and spirituality. Over the years she has been a treasured friend I can always depend on for kinship and great career advice in our famously high-pressured, competitive work environment. Every few months Robin and I get together with our friends Gayle, Tonya and Theresa for a soul-nurturing lunch to talk about our joys and struggles and anything else that may pop up! We all agree that we walk around beaming for days after our afternoon get-togethers. We’re always the first to offer shout-outs when one of us has received an award or support when someone has an ailing family member. Second to my sisters, these friends are among the most important women in my life. Whether face-to-face or courtesy of Verizon, a girlfriend powwow can be as restorative as a therapy appointment. One of my oldest and dearest friends lives in South Carolina, but we have wonderful phone dates. With glasses of chardonnay in hand, we laugh or cry for an hour or so until we both feel we can face another day with our sanity fully intact.
Been There, Done That Page 20