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When Your Family Gets Sick…A Choose Your Own Adventure Tale

You’ve been looking forward to this particular week and weekend in February for some time now. It’s the week you have your youngest son’s first Valentine’s Dance that the whole family will attend with him, it’s your other son’s close friend’s birthday party, it’s the weekend you will see one of your best friends and your children and her children will play and have a blast together. This week you also have your first in person team building meeting at the corporate office which you are so looking forward to because you work from home and are very eager to meet and connect and teambuild. You’ve signed up for Family Kindness Night at school and paid for all 4 of your family members to attend. In the spirit of signing up for fun things this week, you also signed your five year old up for a Valentine’s candy making class that your friends will also attend so you can catch up with friends while bonding with your little guy. You’ve signed up to bake treats and provide utensils for the Valentine’s dance…because…why not? It’s the first rehearsal for the Variety Show at school, it’s the big basketball game for your son where he will play against his own schoolmates, and it’s the weekend your very close friend whom you haven’t seen in 11 years, was planning to fly in to visit from Cincinnati. This also happens to be the week you need to bring your car to the autobody place to be fixed from an accident while you get a rental. It’s basically the week of all weeks since 2018 began with bookending weekends that are jammed with fun things and necessary errands. It’s the WEEK OF ALL WEEKS NOT TO GET SICK.

And then that unexpected beast hits your house like a bomb. One by one you drop like flies with a horrible virus rendering each of you paralyzed and in bed for days only to get up to make the trek to the bathroom. Parents dread this more than the middle of the night wake up, more than having their mouth coughed into, and even more than hearing the words, “I just pooped my pants.”

Let’s take a stroll through hell together shall we? It’ll be like a choose your own adventure book except it’s choose your own doom. Because, let’s face it, it’s lurking at every turn.

You pull up to pick up your older son early from his after school program and see that his bus was just pulling up to the building. He’s getting off the bus and you see that he is bearing a slight resemblance to Slimer.

You walk your sick son through the parking lot to the car. Here he vomits for a few minutes. Turn to page 3 if you think it’s just a fluke, turn to page 13 if you think it gets worse.

Your inner voice tells you this will pass and it must be a 24 hour stomach bug. Sadly, he will miss his close friend’s birthday, his basketball game against the team he’s been looking forward to playing all season, and his brother’s dance, but he will be better by Sunday and your family will still be able to do some of the things on the agenda. It will be fine!

Then you realize you or your husband will have to stay home with him while one of you goes to the Valentine’s dance with his brother. So much for the whole family attending his brother’s first dance.

That’s 3 things that are now a no go on Saturday, but everyone will survive. Turn to page 10 if you think you’ll pull through and make at least one of the plans, turn to page 20 if you know the other shoe is definitely going to drop. Surely you’ll still be able to meet up with your close friend and her kids on Sunday though right? So you turn to page 10.

You’re thumbing through the calendar and realize there is another event that will be missed. The valentine community service event at the nursing home. OK, so 4 things, you’re going to actually miss 4 things.

Suddenly, you begin to feel extraordinarily tired. You’ve just put your sick, puking child to bed and you’re breaking into a cold sweat. Nope. You’re not getting sick. YOU CAN’T BE. You felt so good and energized this week. You must just be really tired from the day and from contacting and explaining to your cancellations.

You wake up on Saturday, and groggily reach for the phone to see what time it is before getting up. The time says 8:30. How did you sleep so late? You kick yourself in your mind thinking of all the scrambling that needs to be done to make it to the basketball game in 15 minutes. Oh, wait- that’s right. Your son is sick so he will not be making that game. You lie your head back down on the bed and realize maybe there are some perks to having a sick child. While you’re sad to miss this game against his friends, you can now lie around for a minute or two instead of rush out the door. You try to swing your legs over the side of the bed to get up and realize every ounce of you feels as though Chucky has just taken a little baby sledge hammer and hammered all of your limbs in your sleep.

You could not will away the sickness. It came for you. Turn to page 50 if you think it’s a 24 hour virus, turn to page 12 if you think it’s going to last a week.

You mope down the hall and down to the basement where you hear the children’s voices. You ask yourself how the hell you will get through the day while your husband is at work for the next 4 hours and you feel like you’re walking through a lake of mud with every move. Your sick child needs your attention so you guzzle some coffee and try to pretend you’re alive.

You realize you will have to cancel Sunday’s plans too with your close friend and her family that you haven’t seen since October. You agonize inside over how much you were looking forward to this. It dawns on you that your 5 year old’s physical that has been on the calendar for months and is tomorrow also needs to be cancelled now because there is a very high probability he will be coming down with a sickness of some kind too.

You put movie after movie on for the kids and basically pass out.

Your husband comes home and you wake up relieved for a minute before falling asleep for another eternity.

You wake up again in a complete panic realizing you never baked a damn treat for the dance and you never dropped off the utensils you raised your hand to bring.You ask your husband to go buy store made cookies and to drop off the utensils and he says he’ll get the cookies but says just forget about the utensils.

So naturally, you get in the car in your fever sweat soaked pjs, crazy hair, Voldemort looking skin, and drop off the utensils.

You come back home, your husband tells you you’re a crazy spazz and you agree you probably are. But you signed up to bring the utensils so there really wasn’t a choice in your mind.

You go back to bed. You wake up at 12, 1, and 3 a.m. to your son crying and sick. You crawl into bed with him and enjoy side by side fevers in unified misery. This is actually a bittersweet moment.

Sunday rolls around and you’re both worse. You call the doc and swap your 5 year old’s physical with a sick appointment for your older son thinking he must have the flu.

He tests negative for the flu-thank goodness, but the doctor tells him he has one of two nasty stomach viruses and that it is likely you have the same thing. The virus can last for a long time the doctor warns.

While there, your son randomly tells the doctor how much he likes hamburgers and even though his stomach is killing him, all he wants is a hamburger. The doc says bland food only son-sorry. Sick son begs to please be allowed just one hamburger on his way home. Doc says fine, but your stomach may not like it.

You take him to get the hamburger.

Two hours later the hamburger says “I’M BAAAAAAAACK!”

It’s a terrible evening in the bathroom thanks to Mr. Hamburger.

Monday rolls around and you’re both still feeling awful. You get your other son ready for school and drop him off. You cancel your work appointment and email your boss that you are going to miss your first teambuilding event at the home office tomorrow.

You spend the day shivering under the blankets and sleeping off and on while doing nastified laundry and helping your boy make it to the bathroom.

You bring your other son to a friends so he doesn’t have to be bored out of his mind for another night. He comes home looking not so good. He’s pale and he climbs right into bed and says he’s tired – which happens- never.

You know exactly what this means. Turn to page 100 if you think he’s getting the virus, turn to page 2 if you think you’re going to die of depression from your family being sick on the worst week to be sick.

And so then naturally…

You die.

Just kidding, but you know you wanted to at that moment.

You’re on day 3 and your son is on day 4 of this awful illness with no end in sight. Then your other kid throws up that night-(of course …you knew that was coming right?). You’ve spent way too much time in your bathroom, laundry room, and on your couch these last few days and now you come to the realization you will have to repeat it all over again now that another one of you is sick.

You wake up early on Tuesday to pick up your rental car and drop off your car to be fixed from the annoying fender bender you had a few weeks back.

You cancel your mom and son candy making excursion next and think to yourself how much money has gone down the drain these last few days with all these event cancellations. A friend offers to pick up and drop off medicine which you gladly take her up on without hesitation. Leaving the house feels impossible. At one point you go into your backyard and lay in a lounge chair to feel the sun on your face for a few minutes just to feel alive again.

You play video games, watch endless brain rotting YouTube Kids videos mixed with some good Harry Potter movies, sleep, shower, then shower your kids more times than you’d care to count, and start to resent food in all of its forms.

Valentine’s Day comes and goes and none of you can even look at chocolate.

Thursday rolls around and you’re ready to be checked into an insane asylum. Your son is finally well enough to go to school and you’re starting to feel human again as well.

Good riddance unwelcome visitor that ruined the most fun, full week of plans. Here’s hoping you don’t come back anytime soon. Turn to the last page if you’re ready to be done being sick.

As a parent, you feel these words to your core when a virus has finally left the building…

When Your Child Turns 5 – The Final Goodbye to Having a Little One

Not daycare, not pre-school, not your first, second, third, or fourth birthday. Not even the first day back from maternity leave. None of those days stirred the type of emotional storm that hit me like a ton of bricks this week. The catalyst brewing this storm of emotion is the birthday that awaits you in just a few short days- your fifth birthday.

The young age of 5 means so much more than it sounds. It reduces me to a weeping mess unable to gain control of emotions because it is having to accept a plethora of things.

It is having to acknowledge that you are changing every day so much right now. It is the realization that certain everyday things are coming to an end. Like when I tried to lift you and place you into the shopping cart a few days ago and could barely get you off the ground. It’s the not being able to carry your sleeping body out of the car and lie you down in your bed. It’s having to respect the “I don’t want kisses” mantra (really, already?). It’s the end of being Mommy to you and now I’m just plain old “Mom”. It’s the knowing that this is likely the last time we can bring cupcakes and read a book to your class for your birthday. This means I will need to memorize the glee on your face when it’s taking place because I know you’ll be bursting at the seams with excitement. And honestly, I don’t know what’s worse-knowing this could be our last birthday visit to your classroom or that you want your dad to bring the cupcakes and read the book to the class on your birthday instead of me.

You will start Kindergarten in 8 short months. You are our last baby and we’re trying with every ounce to hold onto that before your “little” years are gone. Having gone through this once already with your older brother we know that it is definitely the age of many changes. Shifts in normal day to day interactions start to take place and before we know it, you won’t be considered little kid status anymore.

For the last year, your dad has a running joke that you don’t get to have anymore birthdays. This is of course because he is also sad that you are growing up. He knows what turning five and starting kindergarten means.

When your brother turned five, it was also a very emotional time. The week he started kindergarten, I cried like a baby (this is what becoming a mom did to me, I used to have difficulty crying, and now I cry rivers). I just had this strong sense that things were going to change once he went to elementary school. I remember calming myself with the thought that I had one more baby to go through all these stages again with.

But now you’re about to be five.

Being the second child means having to share the attention. This has made you an incredible sharer, extremely patient, smart, and unbelievably observant. It also means you get annoyed by us a lot because we’re always trying to pinch your cheeks, hug you, kiss you, cuddle you, etc.

But being the last child we’ll ever have means I’m of course questioning everything I did with you. I know we gave our undivided attention to your brother since he was the only one for 3 and a half years. So did I express that I love you enough during your infant and toddler years? Did I hug and kiss you enough? Did I chase and tickle you enough? Did I pay close enough attention to you when you most needed it? Because if I didn’t, it’s a bit late and the agony of not knowing if I did enough is really weighing on my mind. In fact, the more I think about it, the more of an insane person I become. I hope with all of my being that you felt the love my boy.

The other night, while I was lying in your bed reading to you, you were unusually tired and asked me to turn out the light. I stared at your face and in my head asked myself why the heck I often stare at the ceiling instead of your precious face during this nighttime ritual. As I started to drift off next to you, I felt your tiny hand land on my cheek. You patted my cheek and left your soft baby palm there, then you slipped your other hand into mine and fell asleep that way. This was a rare and gorgeous moment. It’s not often that we hold hands at bedtime and the last time I got a face pat as you were drifting off was when you were 3.

It felt as though you knew I was filled with worry. I searched your sleeping face. Silently through this beautiful gesture, I felt some reassurance and some serious love. And I felt really sad. Like really, really, really sad. I know I’m done having babies, but frankly, I wasn’t prepared for how hard the realization was going to be. There are emotions that just come out of nowhere.

In your mind, you’ve already graduated to I-can-do-and get-whatever-I-want-when-I-am-five; which you legit said the other day. Life moves onward and we should not stunt its growth no matter how hard it pulls on our hearts-obviously. This is perhaps one of the main reasons why humans have a memory. To frame in our minds moments that are most precious to us. Moments like the one last night; your small hand on my cheek and your other laced into mine. Hands that once fit only inside my palm.

Your life and future are going to be so much fun to watch and be a part of. So while one part of us sadly says goodbye to your little self, the other part of us embraces the awesome big kid you’ll be. You can expect to see a mix of strange face expressions from your parents that include smiles of enthusiastic encouragement on our mouths, yet tears of nostalgia in our eyes.

Happy birthday, my last baby.

The Opponent in the Mirror

Recently I came across a quote in a stickerbook I was thumbing through and eventually bought at Michael’s craft store. I fell hard and fast for this beautiful gem.

“If you’re lucky enough to be different, never change.”

Oftentimes our society believes that being different can be a bad thing. More and more I think that stigma is shifting in a refreshing way. Most of us wonder how we’re perceived by others. We know who WE are, but do THEY really know who we are? Do you sometimes feel misunderstood?

We all have something we’re good at, something we struggle with, strengths, weaknesses, etc. But let’s examine for a moment something very specific that makes you….you. What characteristic do you possess that you think people don’t necessarily know about you, misperceive, or maybe misunderstand? What makes you different? I’ll share with you a big part of what makes me tick as a person and why, quite possibly, some people misunderstand me.

The definition of someone that is competitive is as follows: having or displaying a strong desire to be more successful than others.

Many people fall into this category. I think the world of sports would be nothing were it not for this breed of competitive people. These competitors keep people watching with baited breath, rooting for victory, and proud of their impressive athleticism. The world of business also has healthy competition that can be fun to observe; Apple vs. Microsoft, McDonald’s vs Burger King (sans the healthy part here), and Coke vs Pepsi-to name a few. Our planet of animals has some serious competition when it comes to mate selection; think of peacocks, and that hilarious dancing bird of paradise. And last but not least, humans in courtship have the competition of other potential suitors. This causes a multitude of craziness to take place – just watch The Bachelor or The Bachelorette for a drama filled crash course on this topic.

Now that you’ve conjured up these images, it’s probably hard to think that some of us humans just aren’t built with the competitive gene as it relates to others. I’m one of these people and I wholeheartedly accept that this can sometimes be misunderstood. It’s also quite boring for my competitive friends out there.

Here are four examples in case your perception of me is already off: 1.) If someone is running next to me in a 5k and the finish line is in site, I’m not inclined to speed up to beat them. 2.) I love to play Scrabble with my husband even though I only won once in 16 years. 3.) If I have a friend that’s gorgeous with a six pack and a perky butt, let’s toast to that rockin’ bod! When I’m motivated in the Spring, I’ll call her to be my accountability partner. Sidenote: I can’t get on the bandwagon with people that say , “ugh, don’t you just hate her?” Because …I don’t hate her. Why should I hate her just because she’s taking good care of herself and looks great? I’ve never understood that norm in society among women. Let’s be happy for other women! 4.) When I see how successful fellow writers or bloggers have grown to be, I’ll reach out and ask what worked best for them to see if there is something I can be improving upon. There’s no shame in learning from your mistakes. I say there’s shame in not learning from them!

The real deal is that I’m acutely focused on beating one opponent at all times – myself. This is how it’s always been. Is it weird? Maybe. But I’m not measuring myself against anyone else because no one’s life is the same, no one’s physical appearance is the same, and we are all uniquely ourselves. There’s no other way for me. So if you want to race me or compete with me- I’m not your gal. I once won a Halloween costume contest when I was 10 or 11 at a friend’s party and I was mortified. I didn’t want to be the winner because I thought people would automatically not like me! Blending in felt safer and I thought more girls would not be inclined to talk about me if I didn’t stand out. Now if that isn’t waving a carrot for someone to psycho-analyze me right now, I don’t know what is!

Looking back on that memory now, it makes sense why I’ve tried to hide some of my differences or dull my shine. I realize now that I have a characteristic to be proud of. Being a cheerleader for others and not having the drive to compete with others is unique and I embrace it now.

My goals are for myself and no one else and I’m my toughest coach and my most critical judge. What may be an important milestone for me- may be laughable to you. That’s just what I’m getting at here. If you’re achieving what matters most to you, in my opinion, that’s all that should matter. Unless you’re on a sports team or some kind of competitive team- then you’re looking out for the team as a whole.

Recently, my son said to me after his basketball game, “I’m really proud of myself Mom. I know I played pretty good out there today.”

This was coming from a kid who just 2 months ago said he was quitting. Turns out one of his teammates actually told him he “sucked” during practice. It took me 45 minutes of the “if you fail try, try again” spiel and anything else I could think of, to convince him to stick it out. To hear his pride this past weekend felt like a warm blanket draped around my heart. In the end, he pushed himself and didn’t measure himself against what anyone else on the team was doing.

A few months back when he had first attended a basketball clinic, the coach went around and asked each player who their favorite basketball team or player was. I could feel the stress rising in my chest wondering how he would answer this question since we don’t really watch basketball at our house.

But my son answered the question matter of factly, “I don’t watch basketball, I just like to play.” He didn’t show a morsel of embarassment. To him it was no big deal to be different than the rest of the boys in the group. Following his answer, two other little boys gave the same answer …and they did it confidently as well.

I swear to God we can really learn a thing or two from kids. Why do we feel like if we’re not like the rest of the group we’re weird? Why is being different bad? Case in point…IT’S NOT. We, ourselves, just make it that way. It’s pretend.

When I share an accomplishment with a friend, it’s because my inner butt kicker is pleased. It dawned on me recently that maybe when I’m sharing a personal accomplishment, people may view it as hyper competitive or braggy. I am quite the opposite, but if they are a newer friend and don’t know me well yet, may be this is how they’re perceiving me? Maybe I’m overanalyzing? See what I mean about the perception game? It can drive us crazy!

In closing, I’d like to say that maybe what makes you unique is something that can help people. Like that quote at the beginning, I feel lucky that it seems innate for me to cheer for other people and not feel insecure or threatened by their successes. With all the social-media-comparison- downward -spiral stories I’ve read, I’ll take this difference to be a good thing. My opponent- she’s in the mirror. There’s nothing like kicking your own butt at something because it’s always going to be win win situation.

Second Chances- 2017 A Year in Review

Driving back from Bradley Airport in Connecticut was usually uneventful. This time I had dropped my sister off to catch her flight back to Chicago after her Christmas visit. My youngest son, then 3, was sitting in his car seat in the back. It was a cold, snowy, day and the roads were wet. I clenched the steering wheel, white knuckled, since my tires were ridiculously bald. Buying new tires has always been a pet peeve of mine-it is such an unfun, expensive thing to spend money on. I had been warned by my mechanic, my husband, and members of my husband’s family, that my tires were in desperate need of being replaced.

I pulled off to grab a quick bite with my little guy and returned a call to one of my co-workers before getting back on the highway. About 5 miles or so from my exit, I completely lost control of the car. My tires hydroplaned on what I assume was black ice, and my car fishtailed for a split second. From there, we went into a complete spin. I saw faces of oncoming drivers, squeezed my eyes shut, and braced for an impact I was sure would end both of our lives. I believe we spun one and a half times because of the way the car ended up positioned. We were heading sideways into the guardrail. When I realized that miraculously no one had hit us, I frantically pressed the brake and the accelerator. Unfortunately, my car would only coast. It was in some kind of neutral function and nothing seemed to work with the exception of the steering wheel. The car was coming to a very dangerous slow speed with cars flying around us -honking and flashing their lights. A man in a pick up truck next to me rolled down his window with a look of total exasperation and shouted, “Oh my God! Oh my God! Are you OK? Oh my God! Pull Over! Pull Over! Oh my God!”

I felt paralyzed. I started screaming and talking to myself and everything looked and felt blurry. Not sure if things can feel blurry, but that is the best description that comes to mind. We had just escaped certain death by 20 cars hitting us from every direction. It seemed improbable good luck would strike twice, and I was convinced we would now die going 25 mph on the packed highway in the snow with bald tires while I was going into shock-incapable of maneuvering a car.

Somehow, the car began to pick up speed little by little again and came out of the self inflicted neutral mode. An exit was coming up and I had to cross 3 lanes of traffic to get there. It felt like running the gauntlet in slow motion to get across those lanes. I made it across and parked the car at the bottom of the ramp. I cried for what felt like a really long time. I got out of the car and went in the backseat and hugged my son and cried harder. He stared at me, confused by my tears and unfazed by the whole experience (he had been asleep).

I called my husband to come get us. Needless to say, new tires were bought the next day. Unfun and expensive new tires, that I will never miss a beat on buying ever again.

Ringing in the New Year felt surreal last year following this experience. No matter how I dissected that incident, it just didn’t seem possible my son and I should have lived given the circumstances.

For about a week after it happened I just kept wondering if we were spared for a reason. Was there something else we needed to do here on earth before leaving it? My thoughts were heavy with what if’s, why’s, and how’s. But there was something else that wouldn’t leave me-the thought that I was going to have to make some significant changes in 2017.

Given this second chance, it seemed whole-heartedly stupid to allow or partake in anything that brought me down or sapped my happiness. If life is already too short, and you got a second chance at it, you sure as hell aren’t going to muddle through the sludge anymore.

I said to myself that no matter what: I would find a way to leave my miserable job,practice being more present with my family, dance more, write more, call friends more instead of texting them,continue my efforts in training my brain via meditation (still much work to do on this one), stop putting so much energy into fickle people who put in one tenth of the effort, hike more with my kids, give myself a break and realize some things can simply wait until tomorrow.

Now that 2017 is almost behind me, I can look back and say it was a year of much personal growth. Quitting the job did actually happen (thank you dear husband), little to no toxic people are in any of my circles (yay because that means my picker hasn’t been off). The people around me-they are there because they want to be, not because I chase them down and put in all the effort.

2017 was a year of reflection. If we don’t learn from our mistakes, from our inspirations, and from our past, then we are doomed. We are the opposite of self aware. We are eternally stuck. Reflection is ongoing and fluid and each year should always be a year of reflection in my opinion.

It wasn’t a perfect year by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a year of change, reflection, and growth. It was a year that in its final months gave the priceless gift of more time with my children. It was the first year I started actively slowing down and asking myself what kind of self care I engaged in that week. It was the first year of noticing the difference between what’s truly important versus what insignificant BS floods the mind. It was the year my husband showed up like a superhero in a cape and helped me not when it counted, but too many times to count (I’ll always wonder if he has any sense of the magnitude of my gratitude…that weirdly rhymed). And last but certainly not least, it was the year I really started to pay attention.

“Pay Attention To What You are Paying Attention To.” – Howard Rheingold

AFTERTHOUGHT

Hopefully all of you reading this drive safely this New Year’s Eve and New Year. Play a game quickly after reading this and ask yourselves if you were to cease to exist tomorrow, what have you been paying the most attention to? How would you be remembered? Do your friends and family know you love them? Are you doing right by yourself and taking care of yourself in the way you should? Are you putting your happiness on hold in hopes that good fortune will knock on your door one day and rain down upon you? Are you living or existing? Is the effort reciprocated in most, if not all of your friendships? After answering these questions, will you change your perspective going into 2018? Food for thought.

Happy New Year everyone!

Embarking On The Unknown; A Career Path

At the age of 16 or 17 most kids have to start thinking about and actually decide what field they want to be in for work. This, of course, is the whole college selection journey that begins with picking a school, a minor, and a major. In the end the hope is obviously that a job will come along in said field. Some teenagers have a solid conviction of what they’ve always wanted to be, but it’s typical to be pretty clueless. It’s only a decision that impacts the rest of your life, but you’ve been on the planet 16 years…so….you’ve got this. You have to start to hone in on what you think you might like to do all day, while also getting paid a decent wage. Those things don’t necessarily go together, but nonetheless, at the wise age of 16 we dive into our best guess.

***

My bedroom was painted royal blue. I had a thing for the color blue back then. The ceiling was smothered with Rolling Stone magazine covers end to end. I absolutely loved Mark Saliger’s photos. I poured over the Rolling Stone interviews imagining that someday I would be the author to many music legend interviews. I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and often stared up at my ceiling hoping I would some day end up at Rolling Stone. I decided that since writing was something I loved and I got good grades in that subject, I’d be best at a journalism. I also remember thinking that whatever I majored in, I’d have to make sure there was as little math involved as possible. Legitimately, that was a concern for me since math never was my strong suit.

I started out at community college due to finances. My dream had been to go to the University of Southern California, but I quickly realized that picking a college simply because I wanted to go there was a luxury that was not in the cards. When I signed up for our local community college, I felt disenchanted. My dreams of moving away to Cali had been pushed aside. In my mind, I had big plans for myself. One year later, I ended up attending a university in Illinois about 4 hours from home.

One afternoon, I visited the placement office at community college to nail down a major. The office was filled with shelves of books about every possible occupation under the sun. I went and thumbed through a couple, finally settling in on Public Relations Specialist.

I read the description over and over and looked at the average salary of $70,000 a year.

“Wow, that is SO much money.” The wheels were in serious motion in my head, “I’ll be rich!” I was sure I was going to be poppin’ bottles with P. Diddy and J. Lo. The words in job description bounced up and down on the page with excitement right at me. Media, Radio, Television, Writing, Celebrity, Top Executives, Relationships, Communication. Whatever this job description was selling, I was buying with all of the tip money in my pocket. It all sounded so glamourous! $70K to my 18 year old self also sounded like a million dollars, ah, how things change…but I digress.

It listed the majors and minors for this type of role. And guess what? There was hardly any math involved. I signed up to major in journalism with a minor in marketing. I felt my planning was thorough since I had a plan A and a plan B. Plan A would be to try to become a writer for Rolling Stone, while plan B would be the PR Specialist gig that had dazzled me dizzy. I knew I would minor in marketing because it had been my father’s major and he had turned out successful, so why not? That was the amount of thought I put into my minor. I chose it blindly with a whole lot of gusto.

Basically that describes my entire decision making process- from start to finish.

I loved my classes, there was just one smidgeon of a problem. While in my journalism class we were writing about Princess Diana’s death that had been all over the news. The professor went on at length about the long hours journalists put in, the sometimes life or death situations, and the right and wrong decisions they’d have to make in certain circumstances (case in point with Diana). I was riveted and wondered if my job at Rolling Stone would be that way. I committed in my mind to do whatever it took. But it was something else he said that changed my course right then and there-literally.

“Who in this class loves writing?” He had a deep voice that carried out of the class and into the hallway.

“OK, now who in this class wants to make money in this profession?” His wry smile curled.

This next part I am paraphrasing; I cannot remember his exact words.

“Those who kept your hands up for the second question need to change your majors right now. You will be poor as a journalist. This is a fact unless you strike gold somehow. I will spell it out for you folks- you will barely make enough money to live and you will work like a dog. You have to live, breathe, and die by writing, accepting that you will likely not make much money.”

I changed my major that following week. I had watched my mom work her butt off and struggle as a hairdresser ever since her and my Dad divorced. In addition to that, my Dad had dropped a scary amount of weight when the real estate market took a nose dive in the mid eighties. For many months, when we’d stay at his condo, we’d have fish sticks with ketchup for dinner during that ailing time in his career. I didn’t want to live on fish sticks if I had anything to do about it. Money struggles legitimately scared me, and I would need to pick something that was more reliable. So I said goodbye to my dream of writing. I chose to major in Communications and Human Relations, which I was still pretty happy with.

In the end, I feel fortunate. I ended up picking a major that was right for me and has served me well since it lends itself to many career paths (and there was no math).

If I could change one thing, it would likely have been my minor in marketing. I think I should have minored in English Lit or something else specific to writing. Then again, maybe without that emphasis in marketing I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of working for one of the best marketing firms around. It was an incredibly fun learning experience and was chock full of good people and amazing volunteer opportunities. I do wonder if I didn’t have that minor of marketing on my resume, would I have gotten that job? I remember the head hunter setting me up for the interview (as a temporary receptionist) and mentioning it was good that I had that on my resume. I did end up getting asked to interview for an Executive Assistant role there while temping, which then lead me to an Account Executive role and later a Sr. Account Executive position. I guess you never know where your path will lead you!

Along the course of different positions I’ve had over the years at various companies, I can say that I’ve pinned down what I dislike: spreadsheets and data entry. Does anyone like this? If you do, bless your heart. I’ve also come to know what I’m not so good at; being analytical. A double whammy of things I loathe was putting analytical data into spreadsheets. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it. It felt like I was dying a slow death. Now imagine putting data into a system that was 14 years old that crashed all the time. OK, I’ll stop now. I can already tell you feel my pain.

What have I learned that I am sharing with you? Ask your teenagers what they like to do, what they could do for years to come without tiring of it, what their weaknesses are, and what they know they despise doing. It’s impossible for them to narrow it down perfectly since they haven’t had enough life experience or job experience yet, but I do believe it will still help.

If you’ve been out of school now for quite sometime and are looking to overhaul your professional life like I just did-ask yourself those same questions. Realistically, if you’re like me and have a family to support, there will be different variables to weigh in your decision making process.

I’m going to be forty in a year and a half. In my opinion, it took me way too long to figure out the things I should have run the opposite direction from job wise. Lean into your strengths even if it means you won’t get a handsome financial reward. Sure I’ve had to compromise and downsize a bit, but there’s no price tag on happy.

When I think back to what my professor said that day, I wonder if I hadn’t listened to it how things would be different. It’s not a feeling of regret at all, it’s just curiosity. It’s apparent that the writing landscape has definitely changed. After the 19 years of job and life experience I’ve had since that day, I’ve learned that there are many different options.

It helps to look into your options, think about them, ask people about their professions, etc. You can still do the things you enjoy without being paid for them. I am able to be a writer today just for fun. The fact that writing, people, and creativity are actively part of my life makes me feel richer than ever, even if in the dollar sense that’s not the case.

“The greatest wealth is to live content with little, for there is never want where the mind is satisfied.”- Lucretius

Thankful for ….Huh?

This is an unconventional list of the things that bring me joy. Whatever it is in life that brings us joy, we better darn well be thankful for it. Not everyone gets to feel joy, so this Thanksgiving, let’s think about the random things in our lives that truly make us laugh, feel happy, or allow us to escape. Here are the 5 things that I’m beyond grateful for and if you’ve read my story up to this point, you know I have much to be thankful for in the right now of my life.

1.) My husband’s terms of endearment. Carl, Dell, Crumbs, and Chuck-these are the lovely nicknames my husband refers to me as on the daily. Not honey, sweetie, babycakes, or hot stuff. The look on people’s faces is the cherry on top. He does mean them in the sweetest way possible. Carl as in he thinks I’m hot, so naturally the word hot is followed by Carl, so he shortened it to just Carl to spare me the embarrassment. Dell as in Dell Griffith from Planes, Trains, and Automobiles-because of the car scene. Crumbs because him and my family spread rumors that I’m messy. Chuck – because he just thinks it’s just funny to call me that….I am actually not sure on this one.

2.) Dr. Phil’s Relationship Rescue Workbook. This was actually given to us many years ago as a Christmas present. Whenever I see it on the ol’ bookcase, it makes me chuckle. Cheers Honey, we made it!

3.) Both my sons fighting over who is putting them to bed. While this drives us nuts sometimes, I secretly love it. Why? Because it goes to show that even when my kids have been super grouchy or want nothing to do with me on any given day, I know in my heart they want their connection time with Mama at bedtime, and nothing makes me feel more mushy than that.

4.) My inability to cook. No one asks or expects me to cook for holidays because I’m not very good at it. I think I’m a fine cook, I just use every pot and pan we own and take up every square inch of counter space. My husband is very meticulous when he cooks and likes things done a certain way. My Mother-In-Law and Mother also prefer to cook so I’m very lucky in that way. Take it away ladies and gents, I’m glad we can all agree that I’m not cooking. Takes the pressure off- and for that I’m SO thankful!

5.) Social media and smart phones. While I have a love/hate relationship with social media, I am thankful for Facebook after having moved half way across the country away from friends and family. It’s a key way to stay in touch and watch my friends’ children grow. It is also fun to see what kind of random memes my mother will post. Let’s not forget those friends that were blessed with the gift of hilarity-sheer entertainment-I’m so grateful for your gift of funny when things feel serious.

Smart phones, I’m thankful for you as well because it will be the reason why I will be arguing with my kids this Thanksgiving. I will be telling them to “Put the phone DOWN!” and “GET OFF THE SCREEN!” while trying to get some good connection time in over the holiday. That doesn’t sound like something joyful, but truly -it is. Smart phones are a reminder of how much things have changed, which then always makes me think about how things used to be. You know when we’d all sit around and talk and interact with family during the holidays when we were kids? When I harken back to pre-smart phone days, it’s a reminder this holiday for what matters the most-putting the phone down and interacting. Thank you smart phones for that reminder, oh yeah, and for making it possible to snap an incredible memory-making photo at the drop of a hat.

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Reviving Scent of Autumn

You know that smell. That crisp, earthy, smoky smell that hits you in the face when you open the door of your cozy, blanket-of-warmth home. While it brings the reminder that winter is coming, there is something about fall that also introduces a clear-headedness, a feeling of being alive, a sense of refreshment. Summer is my personal favorite, but there is something about fall that stirs up so much within me. Just a hint of that pure earthy scent and I feel very much alert and ready for what’s to come.

The brisk air beckons to me, however, stuff on my phone or laptop typically prevails. I’m called away from the outdoors to follow up on emails, write, clean out the closets, run errands, and do the things that I also want to be doing and enjoy. More often than not, my time ends up getting sucked up in front of a screen. It’s a dance of responsibility and outdoor time, hobbies and outdoor time, interaction with my children on/off screens and outdoor time, paying bills and that outdoor time, job searches and outdoor time, tackling the mess that is my closets and attic and outdoor time. My time management could use some improvement. I’m going to try out the 50 minute focus routine as mentioned in this thoughtful blog post by Bone & Silver.

Each day, my outdoor time involves a hike or walk of some kind. These walks feel and smell SO lovely. While short and sweet, they feel as needed as my fresh cup of coffee each morning. Why? Because they perk me right up and get the blood flowing. Some of my best writing ideas come after a mind-clearing walk amongst my green pals-aka- the trees.

Hiking during the fall is so pleasant that I am always suggesting it to the point where my sons now roll their eyes every time I say the word hike. Try as I might, the kids don’t always want to go hiking when I do. We also had a situation yesterday where in two separate instances during our hike we were met by very aggressive unleashed dogs. I had collaboratively 150 lbs of children climbing up me, terrified and shrieking. Honestly, I’ve never been more terrified of dogs in my life and I’m a huge dog lover. I was really unsure as to how to position myself so that I would take the brunt of the dog bites vs. the three kids I was holding. As we were walking back to the car, my sons and their friend were talking about being scared to go hiking now. This is a bummer for obvious reasons.

The good news is, most of the trails I go on are dog free, however, I took my four year old to one today and he would not get out of the car. After trying to bribe him with candy, extra dessert after dinner, and anything else I could think of, I finally got him out of the car by saying that I would chase him around the whole lake. There went my peaceful and transcendent mom and son connection time. But I NEEDED that hike and I felt that he needed some outdoor time too. I was sure to show him a sign that read “No Dogs Allowed” on the way in, which helped as well.

I hope autumn lingers and winter stays at bay for a bit. These beautiful crisp days will continue to beckon and keep me and my family active. And now, my 50 minutes of screen time are just about up.

Ownership Involves Things – Not People

Today’s article is brought to you by the word “Simmer”.

Enjoying looking through some quotes and anecdotes about children modeling the behavior they learn in the home, I came across one that set my pleasant mood on fire. It stuck out like a sore thumb, and did not belong alongside such positive tones. The title was something along the lines of Rules for Dating My Son.

Pausing, taking a deep breath, and re-reading the list of rules, I tried to turn down the flame of anger and let it simmer a moment. The musing was written by a mother who thought she was writing a warning to future female suitors and a powerful message of unification to all mothers of sons. The words she used made it feel as though she was speaking of her most prized possession. Something she owned and held close for no one else to enjoy or love, like that of a caged bird she fed and adored. It was a message to mothers of sons that no one can take your son away from you. That she will be watching his girlfriend or wife’s every move with a skeptic’s eye. It was a message to send fear into the woman that would come to love her son or perhaps that already does. That the love of his girlfriend or wife would never match his mother’s and she will always be his number one love. That he is hers and always will be.

I don’t feel this way as a mother. I don’t feel ownership over my children. I don’t feel they need to put me first in their lives, because, truth be told, they should focus on becoming the best versions of themselves so they can benefit society as a whole. It has nothing to do with me. They are allowed to love and love freely. I’ll never feel jealous of a girlfriend or a wife, a friend, or a partner of theirs. That would be silly. I’m their mother and of course I always will be until I’m no longer here. I birthed them, but they owe me nothing because they did not ask to be born. Their father and I chose to bring them into this world and it is our duty to raise them to be compassionate, loving, generous, confident, thoughtful, to make sound decisions, and to keep them safe. It is not their duty to make me number one their entire lives.

I know they love me, and that is more than enough.

When and if they marry someday, I will be crying tears of joy and nostalgia. Not tears of insecurity and jealousy. I will not wish harm upon their lovers. They are my children, not things I own or possess. I can only hope the woman who wrote that selfish and scary musing comes across this post to understand she has much work to do on herself and the many roles we each play in the game of life. She is not only a mother, she is a woman, a worker, a daughter, a friend, perhaps a wife, or a sister. My advice to mothers who feel this way would be to diversify and put energy into each of these roles instead of only defining yourself as the doting, overprotective mother.

If you truly love someone, set them free. This is an anecdote I can get behind.

via Daily Prompt: Simmer

Random Things I’ve Learned About My Kids This Week

Now that I’ve been unemployed for two weeks, my days are filled in a different way. All the things I’ve put on the eternal back burner I can now take on and finish in my home. Among the adult chores I can now tackle on the home front, I’ve also enjoyed taking and picking up my kids from school and the extra hours in each day that I now get to spend with them. In the last week there have been some cool conversations and some not-so-fun ones with my sons. There have also been some bonding activities I’ve tried to cram in each day since I’m a little kooky and always feel like when something good is happening it will soon go away. So I have been doing what I do best- squeezing in as much as possible. Sometimes the activities go well, sometimes they blow up, sometimes I have a talk with my kids and learn something when paradoxically, I am trying to teach THEM something.

On my first week home I let both my sons know Mommy would be picking them up from school and they no longer needed to go to their after school care programs.

My oldest pondered this for a long minute then said, “But Mom, I don’t want you to pick me up from school. If you pick me up that will mean Y is all alone at after care. She only plays with me. I can’t leave her like that-it’s not right. She needs a friend. So, like, no offense, but can I still go there and we can pick one day that you can get me right from school?”

I thought to myself -how can I refute this? He’s showing compassion for his friend and he has a really good point. This program is pretty amazing and it is extremely inexpensive for the entire year, and we’ve already paid in full up front. Most importantly, he unleashes all that pent up energy there because there are so many activities. I agreed with him that it was the right move for him 4 days out of the week, but that I will pick him up a half an hour to an hour earlier than usual.

For the last eight months I have put our youngest to bed pretty much every night. Long story short the four alarm meltdown when I don’t put him to bed lasts forever and cuts into the time he should already be catching his Z’s. My eight year old is beginning to get pretty sad about this because he misses this connection time with me. So my youngest surprised all of us by saying, “Mom, I want Daddy to put me to bed one night and then you do the next”.

Both me and J were excited to get this long awaited connection time. While lying there, we usually chat about life and other random things before he drifts off. While he was dozing, I pulled out my phone and started a task I’ve been putting off for a while -adding members to a Facebook group I’m the administrator for. He peered over and asked what I was doing. When I explained, he sat upright, his voice upset. “You mean you don’t add everyone? What do you mean you decline some people when they try to join your group? That’s so mean. You’re MEAN. You should be including everyone or anyone who wants to join! I can’t believe you.”

Startled, but happy that my kid has an inclusive nature, I explained to him that my group is only for the county we live in and it isn’t relevant or useful to those that live in other states, countries, or even other counties. He would not let it go. He saw it as very black and white. If people want to join something- let them join. I realized no matter how many different ways I tried to explain to him how that isn’t how these groups work, I wasn’t going to win this argument. He went to bed steaming mad at me. Some things are hard to explain as a parent and I felt so crappy that this was our first night together having a nice chat and that it ended on this note. While upset that my kid was disappointed in me, I was actually happy that he got so worked up about something he believed in so firmly. Passion is a good thing.

My little guy wears a uniform to school. It’s a T-shirt and sweats basically. I bought two polos which are part of the older kid uniform just in case there was ever a day he needed to dress up for school. Now he refuses to wear his T-shirt which is the normal uniform and only wants to wear the collared polo. He cries the entire way to school if I put him in the T-shirt. I tried the route of explaining to him that there is a mountain called Mt. Everest and that is also the name for our pile of laundry. Mommy can’t always get to washing the two polos in time for school. He just cried harder. I just chalked it up to a bad couple of mornings because he’s not a morning person. Then came time for his older brother’s parent/teacher conference this week. We had no luck getting a sitter and ended up having to bring both kids with us. Before we left, E begged to wear a fancy shirt and a tie. He said he wanted to look his best for his brother’s conference. Insert me melting into a heap on the floor. I connected the dots right then and there. Looking nice is important to him. He wants to look his best at school – that’s why he had the fit about wearing the t-shirt vs the polo. Sometimes it takes us parents a minute to learn what our kids are really trying to say.

I told the kids we were going to have a screen free evening yesterday and make pumpkin pretzels for a gathering we’re having this weekend for Halloween. I thought it would be a fun activity in the kitchen for the three of us. Not. So. Much. The melted orange coating got everywhere and they just kept trying to eat it. Then they spilled half the M&M’s all over the floor and we had to throw them away. Each time I finished putting one on the tray no sooner would I go to place another down and the one I just finished had disappeared into one of their mouths. Can I tell you how frustrating this was? I drove 20 minutes away to track down the last two remaining bags of orange candy melts at Jo-Ann fabrics because every store from here to NY was out of them. Note to self and other moms- some baking activities are fun with kids. This one was not! We argued the whole time. The good news is- I had just barely enough and got ‘er done. Here they are in all their delicious and pretty hide-them-from-the-kids glory.

Learnings, wonderment, and arguments with the kids aside, I am really enjoying this time with them. It solidifies my decision in leaving my job every time my four year old’s face lights up when I’m standing outside the doors to pick him up from school. He still asks me every morning if I will be there to pick him up. I’m guessing it’s because he’s adjusting to no longer being the last kid at after school care every day. While this is temporary, I’m not taking one second for granted. I look forward to what I’ll be schooled on next week by J and E!

Working Mom Burnout-What Can Help Us?

Since the crash of 2008 the working world has shifted. Companies are running leaner than ever resulting in people working longer and harder. Of those employees, a decent percentage includes working mothers. At what point does society say it’s time to throw out the old institutional norms and get with the times? Will corporate America hear the sound of working parent burnout and change their tune?

Three weeks ago I handed in my resignation to a company I’ve been employed with for 6.5 years. The stress level felt as though it was taking a toll on my mental health and it was more than stretching into time with my family. My husband and I decided enough was enough and it was time to make a drastic move. A move that would mean a single income along with letting go of my healthcare benefits. Leading up to this moment, I have been applying and interviewing since 2011-and to no avail. Due to the painfully difficult task of landing a new job, I have toyed with the possibility of leaving the corporate world forever. This means we need to be okay with taking a reduction in pay and benefits. The allure of once climbing the ladder has completely lost it’s shimmer. A slower pace where my health is in good form, and life isn’t whipping past me like a freight train is the carrot calling my name now.

We all want to do our best. It’s just not possible to do it at a million miles an hour with a plate so full there’s no bottom in sight. It’s not abnormal for working parents to log on at night to wrap up tasks or respond to emails. Sadly, this has become the new norm. Additionally, many of us have said sayonara to the good old lunch break. Hence the “Take Back Lunch” campaigns cropping up everywhere. Lunchtime for us parents is the beautiful gift of an hour to get errands done during business hours, or in some cases, our only break to do something for ourselves. Now that lunch has gone by the wayside, when are these errands getting done? Where is that hour of personal time to take a much deserved break?

Other than eating lunch at our desks and logging onto the computer to do work in the evenings, let’s think for a moment about the inability to shut the brain off from work. It creeps its way to the top of your mind conveniently right when your head hits the pillow. You’re on hyper alert that there is an email you didn’t respond to, or that looming deadline isn’t remotely possible to meet given the workload and short staff situation. If you’re a working mother, this endless list is mixed in with parental tasks like remembering to turn in money for the school field trip, picking up a birthday present for the party next weekend, or forgetting that there is no water bottle to send to school since your child lost it the day before. Being in this constant state of fight or flight is never healthy as we all know, and it can wreak havoc on not only the mind, but the body (stomach aches, migraines, anxiety, depression).

Prior to 2008, things were a bit different. It would seem that now companies are running more lean than ever. As a result, workloads are heavy and stress levels are high. Of the existing workforce, plenty of companies employ working mothers. We are the group that leaves one job to go to our jobs as moms. But what about when the day job overshadows, hovers, or smothers the mom job? What then? Can we do both jobs at once and do them well? Who suffers as a result- the generation we’re raising, us moms, both, or society as a whole?

In a Facebook group I facilitate for working mothers, a survey was posted to capture answers to questions relating to what they need help with the most as working mothers. The idea was to hone in on how both their home and work life could be modified to make life in general a bit more manageable. The results are fascinating, yet not surprising.

Out of the 213 respondents, there was a tie between morning and dinner time in terms of what the most stressful time of day is. The morning is stressful due to getting ready for work coinciding with getting the kids fed, dressed, lunches packed, teeth brushed and out the door for school. Dinner time was just as stressful with having to multi-task; get dinner prepared while helping with homework, changing out of work clothes, cooking, making sure the younger ones are occupied/safe, etc.

When asked what was the one thing working moms were most desperate for help with, the majority said making and planning dinner. Help in cleaning the home came in second and help with having organization in their lives a close third.

Marriage and partnership was another section in the survey. The purpose for this was to gauge how much help working moms get from their partner. When asked how much help is received in one specific area, picking up and dropping off the kids took the top ranking at 18.3%. Housework and cleaning came in second at 16%. Interestingly, 10% said “other” with half the responses saying their partner is a stay at home dad and does most if not all tasks. The other half of the 10% saying it’s split evenly among them and their partner, or the nanny help divide and conquer.

Another question in the marriage and partnership bucket, was the question of how their partner responds to being asked to help. 52% said their partner would gladly help. 12% said the response would be similar to “you’re nagging me, but maybe”, 13% said their spouse would suggest paying someone to help, 8% reported that their partner would say “no” to helping. Most interestingly about this response was the “other” section which received 14%. 30 people responded with a variety of different comments, however, 7 people said their spouse would agree to helping and then not do or say they forgot to do the task, while the remaining 23 people had a mix of responses including that their spouse is a stay at home dad.

Some of you may have heard of the term overwhelm. This next question addresses how often in a week working mothers experience feeling overwhelmed. 48.3% said half of the week, while 38.9% said every single day. 11.7% said once a week and 0.9% said they never feel overwhelmed.

When asked if there was an aspect of their job they would like to change in order to make life as a mom easier, there were six options. The options included were more money, a flexible schedule, work from home options, more time off available, all of the above, and other. Most responded with all of the above at 28.6%. 6% selected “other” which consisted several similar responses including shorter commute, a policy that enforces working hours instead of 24/7 availability, less working hours, a service to provide assistance with laundry and childcare, and lastly, an appropriate workload. Some respondents said they are very happy with all aspects of their company, but worry about job security.

Most people try to find ways to decompress after a stressful day on the job and evening with the kids. This next question sheds light on how most working moms (from this specific group of 213 surveyed) choose to unwind. The winner for ways to decompress in this group goes to drinking alcohol at 23%. Sadly, 16.4% said they don’t know how to decompress. Also 13.6% chose “other” which included reading, watching TV, taking a bath, listening to music, or doing a hobby.

It is important to dream about what means the most to us, what motivates us, and what would bring us joy. The final question asks about daydreams.

The question reads “I daydream what it would be like to…”

Go at a slower pace in life (22%) and work part-time (20.75%) were the top two selections. 19% said their daydream consists of working at a company that is flexible, has lots of paid time off, and is family friendly, 12.2% said they’d prefer not have to work, 11% said start over and go back to school, 6% dream of having a supportive partner that helps more, and 7.5% said “other” which included having a live-in nanny, being single, being wealthy, having the kids out of the house, and travel.This tells us that when it comes down what matters most, time wins by a landslide over money on the importance scale.

It would seem the over arching learning from this group of working mothers surveyed is that half of the week they feel overloaded. They feel most overwhelmed in the morning while trying to get themselves and the kids out the door, as well as at night when dinner needs to be made and kids are simultaneously needing attention. Only half of these working moms have full spousal support when it comes to helping with anything needed. All of them would like a family friendly work environment-which seems like a no brainer to all of us right? A whopping 16% of the moms surveyed don’t know how to decompress-yikes. This cannot be good for the health of these moms. In addition to this, roughly a quarter of them use alcohol to de-stress. The doctors supposedly say a glass of red wine a day is good for the heart, but is it the best way for us to relax after a long day? Lastly, the most common day dream is going at a slower pace in life or working part-time hours.

So what’s the answer? Perhaps less hours and a more manageable workload is a start. Who came up with 9-5 anyway? Most schools start around 9 as do offices and most offices close at 5:30 or 6 and school gets out between 2 and 3. Does everyone work their best during those hours or can we entertain an idea of a different kind of work schedule? Who died and let technology become our new tyrant of a boss that allows us to be available 24/7? Maybe we would all work more efficiently if companies didn’t adhere to the regimented 40 hour schedule. Think about the option of letting employees choose their hours to suit their current situation. It could be this way for everyone-those with kids and without. If the work is getting done, why does the time of day or hours in a day matter?

Think about the incentives for your employees being happiness, motivation, more time in the home, and less overwhelm. Let’s start the conversation. I think we can all agree something has got to change.

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