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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.

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.

When Good Luck Strikes

Have you ever been minding your own business when all of a sudden something glorious happens? Maybe that excitingly fortunate thing for you was winning a $10 lotto ticket, someone buying your meal at a restaurant, getting an unexpected promotion, or being the lucky caller on a radio station that scored you a trip for two to Cancun. Whatever it was that you’ll never forget, be sure to share that story so it lives on. I believe that the more people hear stories of good fortune, the more hope it gives others that something unprecedented might be hiding around the corner. Also, in a world with Google and instant gratification, our memories seem to be waning and you just may forget about your unreal experience and that would be a straight up shame and a half. The art of storytelling needs to be kept alive!

My insanely awesome experience came completely unexpected on a stormy weeknight back in the late nineties. A group of friends and I were running late to the Britney Spears concert at the Rosemont Theater in Illinois. We had wastefully spent time doing our hair and make up only to have it washed right off by the torrential downpour as we sprinted across the parking lot into the venue.

We heard the opening band, O-Town, wrapping up and people cheering which sent us into a sprint to get to our seats. At this moment of half running/half trying to wipe our faces off from the rain, a tall man that looked like he was also in a rush was walking quickly toward us and waving at us asking us to slow down. Annoyed, we snapped that we were running late, and we all but ran right past him in our haste.

He asked us to please just stop for one second so he could tell us something. Irritated that he was slowing us down, we all looked at each other and rolled our eyes wondering what he could possibly want.

“How would you like to go on stage with Britney?”

” Huh?”

” I have passes that are for special stage access. You will get to watch the whole show from a side stage just off the main stage. Would you like them? I need to give them away and your group has the perfect number of people.”

No WAY. We were all dying from a glee-filled induced adrenaline surge.

Of course we obliged and took the passes off his hands. He then escorted us to a side stage just off the main stage and we went up a small set of stairs and waited with a few other girls for Britney to come out. We jumped, and clapped, and squealed at the unexpected fantastical twist of our night. Just minutes ago we were parking far away, running through a rainstorm, missing the entire opening act, and worried about missing Brit’s first song. Now we were going to be just feet from her!

What was even more coincidentally awesome? One of the other girls on the platform was my friend from school! School as in my college that was 4 hours away from where we were standing. What were the odds of that? Seriously. The others said they had won this occasion from a Pepsi can contest. What the? All we had done was sprint into the theater soaking wet and anxious as hell to get to our seats!

This was at the height of Britney’s career also, might I add. So seeing her, especially this close up, was beyond exciting. We watched the show with perma-grins plastered on our faces the entire time.

About 45 minutes to an hour before the show ended, a young man in a dark gray or black hoodie walked up the stairs and onto the small platform. Since there were only a few of us on it, I was able to get a good look at him before he turned to watch Britney. It was Justin Timberlake! This was back when they were dating. None of us bothered him, but to say there was an electrical current of excitement running through each and every one of us would be an understatement.

The show ended and we talked about it the whole ride back home. We could not get over our sheer luck of being at the right place at the right time. It was an unbelievable experience that none of us would ever forget.

Have you had an amazing experience where dumb luck rained down upon you? Think about it, share your story with your friends, or write about it. It’s pretty cool to reminisce back to that space and time. Life can tap us on the shoulder and take us by complete surprise sometimes and it’s important to take time out and acknowledge the extraordinarily good stuff sometimes.

Airing the Dirty Laundry- Literally

Photo credit : @dwonderlandP

Pulling into the apartment complex after a full day, I noticed the trail of someone’s laundry or clothing strewn through the parking lot. It was still cold and damp out, but spring was finally making itself known after another blustery Illinois winter. Clothing, boxes, a couple of books, shoes, etc. were tossed along the walkway, in the grass, and in the parking lot. In the passenger seat of my mother’s car, I peered through the window staring hard at each article of clothing. The piles of belongings led up to the main entrance of the building.

Thank God being fifteen was coming to a close soon. The last two years had been flipped upside down and I was ready to close the door on that chapter. Still, this new life felt like someone else’s. I was reeling emotionally from being disowned by my father, thrust into my mother’s apartment with nothing but a backpack’s worth of stuff and adjusting to the start-stop-start of two different high schools. Navigating living without my younger sister was also a shock to the system. There is a vast difference in going from having a sister to share your space, things, and thoughts with – to being by yourself.

For the last year and a half, there was always some kind of drama lurking. Walking on eggshells became a honed skill. Just keep everyone happy and life would be OK. Don’t rock the boat. Nothing seemed to really bother me anymore-things could always be worse. Now that I was with my mother, there was no fear of what new false accusation or punishment awaited me. I believed that being out of my father and stepmother’s physical presence allowed me safe refuge from their mental games.

Mom worked long days, usually grabbed a cocktail with her gals after work, and typically got home late. It was odd to be alone in the loud quiet of the apartment, but for the first time in a while, there truly was a feeling of sanctuary.

I would walk places to kill time, lie on the couch and actually relax, hang with friends in their cars driving to the mall, the movies, and various fast food places since everyone was eager to drive with their freshly laminated driver’s licenses. Sometimes I’d listen to mix tapes, play with my dog, stare at the ceiling and daydream about all the things I wanted to do with my life now that I had escaped my teenage prison. The pressure, the anxiety, the constant nagging, and overblown reactions were over-and I bathed in that relief. In the beginning, the first few weeks of freedom felt like a dream; foggy, surreal, numb. It felt as though at any moment it could be ripped away from me, so I had to be vigilant and careful- it just wasn’t clear what I had to be vigilant and careful of. It was like being on a heightened sense of alert-just in case the rug got pulled out from under me. I would never go back. Never.

One evening just after my mother had walked in the door from work, the phone rang. It was my sister. I had been looking forward to hearing her voice, I missed her so much and these first few weeks without her were tough. But the voice on the other end was troubled, upset.

She explained that we would be unable to see one another for an indefinite period of time.

“WHY?” I held my breath.

Being kept from my own sister felt like a cruel and unfair punishment. In the back of my mind I had wondered if he would keep finding ways to hurt me or break me down even though I had escaped the confines of his self-proclaimed “dream house”.

She went on to explain that we could not see each other because Dad’s home had been vandalized.

Vandalism? How did that have anything to do with us seeing one another? I didn’t understand. And then all at once I did understand. Like a knob cranked all the way to blast, the realization of the situation had all but caused me to throttle through the roof of the apartment on adrenaline alone.

Vandalism. I wasn’t capable. Did they at least know THIS about me? Did they know anything about me? I had been accused of many insane things while under their roof. Here’s a handful: doing and dealing drugs, dating a drug dealer, being an alcoholic, a threat to their safety (they once told me they got a lock for their bedroom because they were afraid I would murder them in their sleep), “stealing” food from the kitchen, a defiant juvenile worthy of military school for purposely smearing jam on the counter to make a “statement”, a mastermind manipulator, and the list of outlandish accusations and paranoid delusions could go on and on. Now I could add vandal to the list. I had to laugh, there were just no more tears left.

My sister went on to explain they KNEW that I had done it because who else would do it? I had just been kicked out of their home, therefore to them it was the most obvious connection.

I asked what had happened.

Someone destroyed the white paint on their three-car garage by squirting mustard all over the place. This person or persons had also put dog poop in the mailbox and on the porch, etc.

My fury at the guilty until proven innocent verdict bubbled over.

” I DID NOT DO THIS!”

Yet another unfounded accusation. I wasn’t even under that God forsaken roof anymore- and yet they were still able to get to me. The best way to describe how I felt was like being punched in the stomach over and over and over again.

It was then my sister shared another hurtful message from our dear father. As a result of my apparent vandalizing of their home, not only would my sister and I not be able to see one another, they would not be returning any of my belongings. I would be forced to keep just the backpack’s worth of personal stuff and that would have to be enough. Because this was MY unfortunate choice to do this to their home, I would have to suffer the consequences.

And suffer I did.

Many months went by without seeing my sister. My mom had to purchase me new glasses, contacts, clothing, shoes, etc. since I was unable to get my things back and we hadn’t seen her in months prior to them dropping me off forever. I had no clothes there.

Eventually, Spring came and along with that came an eviction notice. We’d have to decide where to go next and things were not looking promising on a beautician’s pay.

The car windows were cracked, and the cool spring air mingled with my mother’s cigarette smoke. We parked in our usual spot and got out of the car. I can still remember the exact smell of the delicious wet dirt after the rain. I took in the scene before me; the walkway, the landing near the front door of the apartment complex, the parking lot. I cautiously walked over to one of the brown cardboard boxes that sat among the mess of items. I lifted the tucked moving style folded flaps of the carton and looked inside.

The contents in the box were mine. I realized then that it was my belongings that were also part of the strewn items I had seen while pulling into the parking lot. I felt the stinging at the backs of my eyes and resisted the urge to cry. While it wasn’t the way I had hoped to receive my belongings many months ago, at least I finally had them back. What forced the tears to flow regardless of my trying to hold them back and be strong, was the hate-filled way in which they were returned to me; as though someone had thrown them out the window of their car while driving by. My own father. What I would never understand was how he grew to hate me so much.

The small silver lining was that my stuff had arrived just in time for our big move. I’d be going to live with family friends and mom would be staying with a friend for a bit. The plan was just for a month or two. She’d be saving up until she had enough money for us to get a place together again.

Afterthoughts:

Through my lens as the child and now as the parent: False accusations can harm your relationship with your children. This was one of most hurtful experiences and prior to that experience, every single false accusation stung almost as bad. I’ll be able to apply this in the now and stop and think before accusing my sons of things with such certainty and condemnation.

Never-ending punishments and constantly reminding your child of the crime is overwhelming and maddening for them. I think we all need to remind ourselves of this when our kids are teens!

*This story was originally released in September of 2017.

The Liebster Award – 2017

It’s really cool to find out you’ve been nominated for a Liebster Award. I found out about it serendipitously on a Friday just after I had walked in the door after a long week at work. I threw the door open, dramatically let my bags slide down my arms to the floor, squeezed the cherubs, and complained to my husband about my day. Plopping down to rifle through the mail on the kitchen table, I grabbed my phone instead and read that I had been nominated for this award. My stress evaporated!

The Liebster Award is an internet award given to bloggers by other bloggers. Liebster is a German word meaning sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, and valued. The award is meant to be inspirational. It’s purpose is to motivate bloggers in achieving their goals and pushing forward with their writing. I’d like to express my gratitude to @halfchocolateblog for nominating this blog!

Part of being nominated means that I must answer the 5 questions asked by @halfchocolateblog. They are listed below.

1.) What inspired you to become a writer?

I’ve loved to write ever since I was a skinny, dirty kneed, tom-boyish 8 year old. Any time I had the opportunity to take an elective class in high school or college, I always chose a writing course. While I can’t pinpoint something specific that inspired me, I think it has a gravitational pull on me because it taps into my creative side. This is immensely fulfilling and brings direct sunlight into my being. Anything involving some sort of thoughtful expression whether it be painting, crafting, writing, dancing, or decorating soothes my soul to the core.

2.) Which is your favorite post on your blog?

My favorite post so far on my personal blog is actually my first one called Go With Your Gut. It is about my inability to trust myself, which resulted in me allowing others to make important decisions for me; decisions that inevitably put me in danger. Read it here.

3.) Who is your favorite fictional character? Why is he/she your favorite?

Lyra Belacqua from the “His Dark Materials” trilogy by Philip Pullman is an incredible fictional character. She endures many life-threatening adventures, the disillusionment of her parents, the loss of people she loved dearly, all while trying to cling to hope and keep moving along in life. It’s a fantasy story with magic, different worlds, time travel, witches, and talking animals. I absolutely love it and love Lyra.

4.) If a genie grants you three wishes, what would you wish for and why?

Well, first of all, this would be really great right about now. Genie, Genie, where for art thou?

Wish #1.) A cul de sac of about 20 houses on it where all of my favorite people in the world spend their summers. My “summer” house would also be on said cul de sac.

Wish #2.) World Peace. In a nutshell: no more hunger, no more terrorism, no more gun violence (or how about just no more guns period), no kidnapping, no sex slavery, no abuse, no tyrants, endless funding for research and resources to heal our global warming crisis, an end to all hate groups big and small, and the respectful treatment of animals-both domesticated and wild. Is that asking too much? That might count for like 10 wishes right there.

Wish #3.) Money to grow on flowers, bushes, and trees in my backyard. It would only grow on the flowers, bushes, and trees that I took care of though. This would be an incentive for me to really try to get better at becoming a green thumb because I stink at it. It just feels more fun to be rich when it’s earned right? That way I’d sort of still be earning it.

5.) What are the 5 things you can’t imagine your day without?

Morning hugs from my two sons, ridiculous off the wall texts from my husband, dancing in the kitchen just before we have dinner, and a cookie of some kind (don’t judge, yes I have a cookie like every day). That’s four positively awesome things I can’t imagine my day without, but I’m going to sneak one unfun thing in here because it’s real life. I stress every day about how I can make my professional life be as fulfilling as my personal life. I’d love for that stress to someday not be there. I can’t imagine how wonderful it will feel one day when that’s gone. And it will be… someday!

And now here are the lovely and talented bloggers I would like to nominate for the Liebster Award. Congrats and good luck to you!

1.) Sarah Shard – http://www.wearewit.com/blog/

2.) Jade Unal –https://www.thewondrousworldofyou.co.uk/blog

3.) Kara Headley-www.kjdinspirationcreations.com

4.) Cher Gilroy-https://blazingbutterfly.wordpress.com/

5.) Rahul Ashok-https://naturescapewithme.blogspot.fi/

6.) Kelly Peters –https://kellypetersphotography.co.uk

7.) Sanjoli Jain- https://sanjoli17.blogspot.in/2017/07/

8.) Andi Stevenson – http://intothecity.me/

9.) Mary G Suycano – http://www.gracefulmusings.xyz/

10.) Charlene Bullard – https://faithtoraisenate.com/

Please answer the following questions and tag me in your post so I can read your answers. Thank you and I look forward to reading what you have to say!

1.) If you were stranded on an island, if you could make 3 things magically appear, what would they be?

2.) What drives you to keep writing?

3.) Who is your favorite author and why?

4.) What is the one task in life you dislike the most and why?

5.) What 3 experiences have shocked you the most in your life thus far?

Happy writing everyone…enjoy!

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