Category Archives: Success

Today is my Birthday

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I have friends who get bummed out when they turn a year older but I’m one of those people who love birthdays. I love all birthdays but mine in particular. It’s a day to celebrate and treat yourself. For me, it’s the one day a year I fully love myself and allow myself to be loved all day long. That may sound a little depressing I know, but don’t despair, I’m working on fully loving myself all the days of the year but that’s another story (and possibly book) for another time.

Last year was a milestone birthday year for me: I turned forty. As I prepared for the day I sought advice from friends that had gone before me. The resounding theme from pretty much everyone I asked was the same: that the forties were a great time in one’s life, that you will really start to get comfortable with who you are, and all the “stuff” we concerns ourselves with—like what we look like, where we are in life professionally and personally will all become less important. I was fascinated!  That all sounded so freeing.  Like many of us, I feel like I’ve been wearing heavy invisible chains most of my life: trying to be the right weight, look the right way, work hard to advance in my career, appear happy at all times regardless of how I’m really feeling inside, and the list goes on.

Now that I’m a year into my forties, I see that my friends were right. As my birthday clock readies itself to hit forty-one, I think about the year in review and smile. I feel like I’m continuing to get more comfortable with who I am and am much less concerned about things that used to monopolize my time. I am more honest and open about how I feel with my friends and seek deeper more meaningful connections with others. I’m happy with where I am, but still have a ways to go and I’m actually really excited about what the future brings.

No, I don’t like the idea of lots of wrinkles and I am dropping a bit more cash at the hair dresser than I used to, but these things also remind me of the road I’ve traveled to get here, and I can’t wait to see what I find on the road ahead.

Now, where’s my cake?

Say What You Mean

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I was speaking with a group of moms recently and we were discussing how to find your voice as a woman. We decided that the only real way to find your voice is to say what you mean. It sounds so simple, but I’ve discovered many of us struggle with doing just that.

The particular discussion began as they normally do with parenting groups, around the talk about how emotions like frustration and resentment can develop between partners after a new baby arrives. Things your spouse did before the baby came, like not picking up after him or herself didn’t bother you and well, now it really does. As an outside observer, it’s easy enough to think a new parent should just tell their partner how they feel and yet, many of us don’t. Instead our voice gets stuck, it freezes up and the words won’t come out. It can’t be that simple, we think. Can we really just ask for what we want? Or more importantly what we need?

I’ve met many women in particular who struggle with finding their voice and saying what they mean to their partner, parents, in-laws, siblings and friends (note: I think both men and women struggle with this but women talk to each other about it more frequently). I know I am still working on fully finding my voice. Asking others for what you want and need can be scary.  Will I appear selfish? You ask yourself. Incompetent? Too needy? We’ll modify what we really want to say: “I need a break” to something less direct “Any chance you want to take the baby with you while you run errands?”

But what I’ve learned in recent years is that when you ask for what you need you send a message that you respect yourself enough–even love yourself enough–to ask for what you need. Think about that statement for a moment. You love yourself enough. You respect yourself enough to ask for what you need. And when you respect yourself, others will too.

A woman in the group I was speaking to most recently really stood out to me. She was the first woman I encountered in a long time who had truly found her voice. She’d had it before her child arrived and I suspect had an even clearer, stronger voice since becoming a mom. She shared how she asked her husband for what she needed, when she needed it—telling him when she needed alone time, or asking him to take on some of the household chores because she needed help.  It was inspiring to listen to her speak.

I will continue to work to find my voice and to be more direct and clear about what I need and why.

Have you found your voice?

A Bug’s Life

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My youngest son’s class made a Bug Exhibit for the children’s parents to come and see last week. My goodness I was impressed! There was a painted paper mache balloon beehive complete with bees and a ladybug on a grassy field, grasshoppers in droves, and butterflies fluttering all around. The children used recycled goods like plastic cups, and cardboard boxes to help make their creations.

The class was having circle time, sitting around the teacher reading a book together, when I came to pick up my son and it gave me an opportunity to look at the exhibit more closely. I interrupted the circle time to tell the kids what a great job they had all done. They were quick to innumerate to me their individual contributions and show me residual paint that still needed to be washed from their hands.

What struck me most was how proud they all looked and how confident they were in what they had put together. They had worked together as a class to make a darn good Bug Exhibit and they knew it! It was inspiring to see four and five years olds feel that good.

It reminded me of a documentary that I’d seen a while back called I Am. The film talks about how species on earth that are far more ancient than humans abandoned the idea of placing a high value on competition long ago. In fact, competition and the need for individual achievement have no place amongst these more evolved beings. In order for the species to survive, they have to work together, for example ants building and foraging for the good of the colony not the individual ant.

Oh course, human beings are naturally competitive. But what if we weren’t? Would that really be all bad?

I fell in some small way that I witnessed what humans can accomplish when they work together at my son’s Bug Exhibit. No one was competing. No one even thought there might be a competition. They simply worked together to put the best Bug Exhibit they could, and they succeeded.

It’s a lesson I think we all can learn from.

It’s a Lego-Lego World

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How many parents out there have Lego fanatics in their family?  I tell you with great conviction we have two in our house in my boys.

I went on a trip that took me out of town a few months back and picked up two Lego Minifigure packs at the store for my boys. For anyone unfamiliar, the packages contain Lego Minifigures: tiny people equipped with various outfits and accessories. These are sold in packages that don’t reveal which character is inside so you don’t know if you are buying a new figure or one your child already has.  It’s children’s marketing at its best—once your child has one, they will want them ALL. As a parent, you will try to blindly feel your way to all the Lego Minifigures your child desires. Thankfully the packages are relatively inexpensive and my boys get great joy from them.

There are a number of reasons that Legos make the perfect toys for children:

  • They have changed immensely since I was a child and yet are still a classic
  • They capture my children’s attention for long periods of time
  • They reveal your child’s building capacity
  • They reveal your child’s creative capacity
  • They reveal your child’s willingness to look for a very tiny and very unique piece that is needed to complete a project

I used to believe (this stems from my own childhood I’m sure) that Legos were for boys, an activity fathers and sons.  Not true nowadays.  We stumbled upon a great Lego game called Creationary a few weeks ago and decided to invest in it. The game has you roll a die to select a category, choose a card within that category and then build whatever is on the card. My husband and oldest son are both really good at this game. I’m not as good. They often struggle to guess what I’ve built. “Mom, is that a spaceship?” my son asks. “No, it’s supposed to be a tree,” I say. You get the idea.  Win or lose, the game allows us to sit down as a family and have some fun, uninterrupted time together—which is much appreciated in our fast-paced lives.

I’m thankful that Legos are something my whole family can enjoy together; we’re better for it!

Rare and Valuable

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The most valuable baseball card is the 1909 Honus Wagner, 2B Pittsburgh Pirates which recently sold for $2,800,000. The Kohinoor is believed to be the most expensive diamond worth by some potentially hundreds of millions of dollars. These items are considered rare and valuable. But are they the most rare and valuable things in the world?

I was recently in the grocery store perusing the card section in search of Father’s Day cards. First I focused on finding cards for my boys to give to my husband and their grandfathers. Then I focused on finding one for my own Dad from me. The range of cards was striking to me. There were humorous cards, heartfelt cards, straightforward and simple cards. A majority of Father’s Day cards revolved around a dad’s love of beer, golf, watching TV, yard work and struggle to control bodily functions. What struck me about this was how old-fashioned these card themes all sounded. The cards made it sound like dads sit on the sidelines of raising their child, and play the role of provider, yardman, and guy that has many valid excuses to check-out and not need to pay attention to the kids (e.g. they worked so hard and did so much yard work, they need to watch golf, and drink to recuperate and can’t control their body functions as a result). Sounds very 1960s or 1970s to me. Haven’t most dads evolved as parents?

My dad worked a lot and played the role of provider and yardman when we were kids. It was much more accepted and expected back then. He did make a point to spend time with my sisters and I. He made sure we always knew we were important to him, more important than his work and anything else he might have to get done. As we grew, Dad found more ways to spend meaningful time with us. Dad played golf, but did so with me, because I joined the school golf team. Dad was a runner, and when one of us took an interest, we would run together. Dad loved watching college sports, but preferred to watch games with my mom, and us girls. Aside from some of the stereotypical things, Dad was unique to us. He taught us to be independent, helped us on science projects and our math, coached us off-the-field in golf, softball and other sports, he was there for all of our important events including games, performances and milestone occasions. I thought everyone had a dad like mine.

As I grew older, I realized my dad shared similarities to many dads, but was different in many ways too. I have to admit, it was hard to find a man that I felt would be as good a father to our children as my dad was to us. I did find him though. My husband is a more evolved parent. He works a lot, and does yard work, but it’s because he enjoys doing these things. He’s been very engaged from the beginning, changing diapers, feeding our boys, burping them, and is comfortable taking care of the kids without me around. He makes time for his sons and enjoys spending time with them: watching seaplanes take off and land, building Lego sets together, and helping them as they learn new things. He realizes he has limited time with them before our sons will be grown and out on their own. I realize my husband shares similarities with many dads, but is different in many ways too.

To our family, Dad and Grandpa are rare and valuable, much more so than a one-of-a-kind diamond or baseball card.

To my father, my husband, and those fathers that put their family first and continue to change the way we look at fatherhood, thank you.

Happy Father’s Day.

Ca-Click

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How do you feel when you have a special moment in your life?  A moment that you can recognize as special while it’s happening, that you want to remember for as long as you’re able?  For me, I try to be still, to take it all in and take a mental picture, attempting to remember every detail from what I can see visually, and also what I feel emotionally. Ca-click.

I have a surplus of these memories from my childhood—BBQs at a neighbors’ house, relatives or friends visiting from out of town, road trips to new places. Luckily I was able to add to my mental memory scrapbook just this past Memorial Day weekend. My husband, two boys and I headed out of town for the long weekend. My husband and I were somewhat adventurous with our plans for the family—camping one night, hiking the next day, visiting a museum, and finishing up with another hike on the final day.  We wanted the children to have a new experience, something that they will hopefully remember for a long time.

I have to admit, I was preparing myself for the trip to not be 100% enjoyable. We’d never camped with the kids and we honestly didn’t know how they would do. We’d hiked with them before but only briefly; we’d never done an hours-long hike like the one we were planning. We knew the museum would go over well because we had been there before and know it has a fantastic children’s playground. Still the fact remained that there was a considerable variety of things that could go awry. What my husband and I agreed on was to be very flexible (much more so than we normally are) and to be prepared for the worst.

Lo and behold, there was an unexpected storm–thunder and lightning included–that hit during our night of camping. Thankfully it only momentarily dampened the picture-perfect trip we hoped for; it quickly passed and the trip was all uphill from there. In the end it was a huge success. There were many times my husband and I looked at each other knowing just how special it was. We were enjoying our trip, and more importantly enjoying each other.

The children hiked 4 ½ miles the day following our night of camping.  The waterfalls along the trail were amazing; they were going at full blast. Our oldest son saw us taking pictures and asked if he could take one. He hadn’t tried out a camera before.  He snapped one picture, then another. You could see the delight on his face at his accomplishment. It was almost like he knew he would remember this trip as much by the picture as the mental memory that had just taken form. Ca-click.

 

Weighty Issues

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My passion for learning new things has always given me a yen for documentary films. I’ve found several captivating documentaries over the years on HBO and I discovered another this past week when I watched The Weight of the Nation. This much-buzzed-about documentary focuses on the reality of weight in our nation, what has caused the obesity epidemic and what that can be done to combat it. The film shared tremendous insight into the disastrous lifestyle changes the U.S. has undergone over the past few decades, adopting an ever more sedentary lifestyle and a diet that has become ever more abundant, processed and heavily marketed.

This film spoke to me on many levels: as a woman who has battled with her own weight and as a parent. I’ve struggled with maintaining a steady weight since childhood so I’m always looking for perpecitve on all that I have tied up in the issue. Eating is a complex thing. We need to do it for energy, but it goes way beyond mere sustenance as we also eat for pleasure, comfort or just out of boredom.  As a child, it’s difficult, if not impossible, to understand this complexity. For many years I would beat myself up and think what’s wrong with me, why can’t I beat this? I would constantly tell myself what I could and couldn’t eat and if I ate something I wasn’t supposed to, I would mentally rake myself over the coals thinking where’s your self control? you’re an embarrassment, etc.

Thankfully as an adult a nutritionist finally challenged me on the benefit of beating myself up. “Does beating yourself up over this yield any positive results?” she asked,  “Are you losing weight as a result or feeling any better about yourself afterwards?” The answer of course was “no.” Anyone who has struggled with their weight is probably accustomed to this guilt trip but the truth is, if beating yourself worked, we’d all be thin.

Like any parent reflecting on something that’s brought her misery, I don’t want my children to go through what I went through. My husband has been naturally thin his entire life and I’ve prayed many nights that my children will inherit his metabolism (which they seem to have done thus far). My husband and I try hard to be conscientious about eating healthy food and we do a pretty good job for ourselves but there is room for improvement with the kids, a fact that hit home after watching the documentary. I sat there the next morning watching my children eat their breakfast—mini pancakes, toaster waffles and cereal—and wondering if I was doing right by them. We’ve certainly set our kids up with some good habits, we talk to our children about getting vitamins and minerals and we never have them clean their plates the way I was told to as a child; they’re only required to make a good dent in their fruits and vegetables. They also drink far less juice than they used to, we split juice intake to 50% water, 50% juice both to promote healthy teeth and to avoid excess calories.

But alas, we’re not perfect. The challenges we face in feeding our children are common and myriad. Frankly getting the kids to eat anything can be a challenge (instead of their food palate expanding it appears to be contracting). They’re more likely to eat fish sticks, chicken nuggets, popcorn shrimp or mac n’ cheese than whatever lean protein my husband and I are having.  Vegetables are our one non-negotiable, they can have input into which vegetable they prefer—peas, carrots, sweet potatoes, broccoli—but they have to have something.  Snacks are a bit easier—it’s simple enough to give them an apple of banana– but there are plenty of pitfalls here too, like the “gummy” snacks from the store that aren’t labeled as candy, but may as well be. Our youngest son goes to a daycare that is near a great bakery and we go there once a week to let the kids buy treats. They enjoy it, but is it an innocent treat, or am I reinforcing a behavior of making unhealthy choices?

As a parent there are so many questions that we face every day: are our children getting the love and attention they need from us, are their basic needs being met, are we teaching them the right things, are we preparing them for the future? The question of what we feed them hits on all of these issues. I already understood that on some subconscious level, but watching such a powerful expose brought it to the forefront of my mind.

I am definitely rethinking what my husband and I feed our children and it’s clear we need to make some changes. Nothing radical, but we’re going to work to be more mindful of what we’re feeding the kids and why. Are we feeding them what they need, or just feeding them what they want? The point isn’t to beat ourselves up over it, as I said, we know that doesn’t work. I see this as an opportunity for us to reflect, recalibrate and feel more in control about the decisions we make about food for our children and for ourselves.

It’s heavy to think about, isn’t it?

You Don’t Love Me

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My son and I did some growing this past week. He did something I didn’t approve of and I could only get him to stop by threatening to take away a privilege if he didn’t. He got very upset, which caught me a little off-guard. It didn’t begin as a contentious conversation: I had spoken calmly and explained why we were having the conversation, what had happened, what needed to change going forward and why. He looked at with tears brimming at the edges of his eyes and said, “Mom, I feel like when you correct me you are saying you don’t love me.” Whoa, I thought, I did not see that coming. I could understand him getting upset that he might lose his toys or, getting upset that we were having a tense discussion but  thinking I didn’t love him? What was that about?

I took a deep breath.  I was suddenly reminded of something that had happened when I was eight years old. I had done something wrong and my punishment was to be spanked (spanking was commonplace when I was growing up) by my father. I recall getting called into my parents’ bedroom after my mom had debriefed my father on the situation. I reluctantly walked into their room and my dad was sitting in a chair by the side table. He looked like he was exhausted from work and disappointed that he now had to deal with an unruly child instead of getting to relax. I was normally a very timid child but something came over me that day and I told my father I hated him before he could even saying a word or lay a hand on me. He was shocked. “Why would you say that?” he asked to which I replied, “I know you enjoy spanking us.” Honestly, I’m not sure I even believed what I was saying, but since it was my parents’ choice to spank my sisters and I, I figured they must get some joy out of it. My father took me on his lap and said, “I don’t take any joy at all in spanking you. Do you know why your Mother and I do this?” I shook my head. He went on to explain, “We do this because we are trying to teach you a lesson. You broke a rule today, right?” I nodded my head. “And you know that if you do that it’s not acceptable, right?” I nodded my head again. “Well, your Mother and I have to do something about it, otherwise, what’s to stop you from doing it again?” This made the light bulb go on for me.  It was the first time I really understood why spankings in our house took place. It was a seminal conversation between my father and I and it changed our relationship going forward. I still ended up getting a spanking, but it was only a light tap on the behind. Honestly, that was the last time I can remember my dad spanking me. Maybe it’s simply my retroactive interpretation, but I think he knew the importance of making sure I understood what was expected of me and what would happen if I didn’t meet those expectations, it was clear we needed to communicate about what was happening and why.

Coming out of my reverie, I took another breath and told my son, “Honey, one of my jobs is to teach you things. I do this because I do care. I love you and I want you to be the best person you can be. If I didn’t care, I would let you do whatever you want whenever you wanted.” He got a big grin on his face similar to the look I must have had when the light bulb came on for me with my father. “Mom,” he said, “I love you.” “I love you too,” I said.

In the end I felt lucky to have had the opportunity for my son and I to better understand each other.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Miscommunication

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Our oldest son came home from school this past week with a copy of the beloved children’s book Where the Wild Things Are in tow. There was a sticky note attached to the book that let us know that our son needed to practice reading it because he would be doing a reading for citizens of a nursing home the following week.  My husband and I assumed that this meant he would be reading to an individual. We only found out afterwards that he had in fact read it to the larger group.  By wrongly assuming we had all the facts, we had missed out on our child doing his first solo performance. We felt awful! Though admittedly, I was far more disappointed in missing out on seeing how my son did than our son was.

The incident made me think about how I communicate, not only with the teacher at the school, but also with my children and my spouse. I learned an insightful lesson early in my career from my then boss who told me: when you assume you make an *ss out of u (you) and me. It’s all right there in the word itself, making the very concept of assumptions a tricky business. If I’d kept my boss’ golden rule in mind, maybe I would have asked my son the right questions and not missed his performance.

The incident got me thinking about other times I’ve wrongly assumed things. When our children were young for example, I assumed my husband and I would always magically be on the same page, that he would read my mind and automatically know the help I needed. He isn’t a mind reader though and he in turn assumed that if I need help, I would just ask. I also assumed that my efforts to be super-woman: perfect mother, working professional, housecleaner, cook, coordinator, etc—I was making everyone happy. In truth, I was taking too much on and no one was benefitting. When I finally took a closer look at how out of balance everything was, I saw the danger of this assumption.

My husband and I assumed we knew the whole story with the book reading. We should have spoken with the teacher and clarified what our son was participating in. It would have ensured that we didn’t miss out on this special event. I have to admit that it’s disappointing to know I’m still capable of these seemingly obvious mistakes as a mom, but I also realize I’m human, and that there is always the opportunity to grow.  I know I’m getting better at avoiding these situations, but realize situations like this will still come up from time to time. It would be wrong to assume anything else.

What fills your soul?

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I used to play golf, I used to ski, I used to swim, I used to walk around the lake, in fact I used to do a lot of things back when I had lots of time for myself. That all changed when my husband and I had our first child. At first I tried to handle everything myself from feeding, dressing and changing the baby to cleaning the house and cooking food for the whole family. I nearly had myself convinced I was okay with trying to juggle everything at once but alas, after a few weeks I reached a breaking point and finally admitted to my husband that I needed help. I was miserable and didn’t really understand why. I had been told that being a mother was amazing and would be so fulfilling. There were definitely moments when it felt amazing but for the most part it just felt exhausting.

On top of this, I felt guilty for thinking it was exhausting. I wanted to be above being human and feeling exhausted. I wanted to be a super mom who could do it all and still have energy left to burn. As I was trying to figure out how to adjust to all this, a friend asked me a really important question: what gives you energy?  [Note: I’ve blogged about this before, but was reminded that I still have to be mindful of this!] Truthfully I’d never really thought of it, but it was a great question. In many ways, we’re like those ubiquitous smart phones that none of us can seem to live without. We depend on them for a variety of critical activities during the day, but also need to recharge them or they become useless. After thinking about the question again, I shared with my friend that I could tell them what sucked up my energy, but couldn’t come up with one thing that was recharging it.  I realized I had been giving all of my energy away and hadn’t taken the time to figure out how to get any of it back.

After some further reflection, I decided that in order for me to determine what could give me energy I needed to figure out what filled my soul. One thing came to mind right off the bat: talking to my husband about anything other than the kids or work like we used to do when we were dating. He and I had often remarked how nice it was and how connected we felt after one of these in-depth conversations. As I continued to seek out what filled my soul, I realized that connecting with others in general gave me a good deal of satisfaction, whether with girlfriends over dinner or tea or other new parents with whom I could share knowledge and hopefully help out.

I had the pleasure of spending a long weekend with some very dear friends recently. It’s an annual tradition that’s always a wonderful time for us to relax, connect and take care of ourselves without the stress of having to look after our families. I go home after our trip each year feeling full. I don’t have as much spare time as I used to so I have to take advantage of these opportunities to get back to myself, one recharge at a time.