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.

Tea Time Me Time

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Every morning I I make myself a cup of tea, it’s become something of a little ritual to give myself energy to begin the day. It’s both a treat (because I take it with both half and half and sugar) and a stimulant. I love tea. Hot tea or iced. Most of the day, you’ll see me drinking water or some form of tea. It wasn’t always this way.

Growing up in the South I was accustomed to drinking iced tea. With the consistently warm weather down there, hot beverages weren’t high on my list of things to drink any time of day. That changed when I attended a charity auction and participated in the silent auction. They had some perfume I really liked, that was part of a larger gift bag. I didn’t really care what else was in the bag, I just wanted the perfume.  I ended up winning the gift bag and when I opened it up when I got home and rifled through the contents, I found a gift certificate that included Tea-for-Two at a local tearoom. Mother’s Day was coming up in a few weeks, so I thought I would take my mom to the tearoom to celebrate.

I honestly thought high tea and tearooms were for ladies who lunch or people who had nothing better to do with their afternoons. I thought going to the tearoom was going to be a bit of a drag but I couldn’t have been more wrong. You get to dress up, sit with people you love and have good conversation, all while people serve you delicious food and endless cups of tea—what a treat! I had no idea a place like that could make me feel taken care of, pampered and reenergized.

Thus began my enduring love affair with the beverage. Now I try to go to tearooms as often as I can (though it’s never often enough) and I host tea parties for my girlfriends regularly where we chat for hours about work, our families and lives. I try to recreate a bit of that tearoom feeling, the joy I feel and the energy I get from going, each morning with my cup of tea. It’s a great reminder for me that I need to incorporate these types of rituals into my every day, if for no other reason than to reinforce to myself that I’m worth it. I’m a better Mom for it and better partner for it.

What rituals do you incorporate to take care of yourself on a daily basis?

Parenting Alone

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When my oldest son was a few weeks old I remember feeling very alone, which was confusing for me at the time. After all, my husband was present and active with our son, and I had friends and family surrounding me. I was doing my best to get some time to myself—going to Target, grabbing a drink at Starbucks or taking a walk around the lake—but it didn’t make the feeling go away. The permanence of becoming a parent was setting in and I felt incredibly lonely.

It made me question why I was feeling this way during what I had always envisioned as a happy time. What was making me feel lonely? Was it that I didn’t have confidence in my parenting skills? Was it that I was actually suffering from post-partum depression? Was it that I was scared? Or a combination of all of the above as well as other things I hadn’t identified yet?

Whenever I speak to parenting groups about this I see a lot of nodding heads in the crowd. People may not talk much about the loneliness, but I believe plenty of new parents experience it. Whether one is parenting as part of a couple or on their own, there’s an uncomfortable newness to becoming a parent and an overwhelming sense of responsibility. The nature of the support you need changes. I, for instance, needed someone to tell me everything was going to be okay, that I was going to figure things out, and that I was going to feel more confident in my parenting capabilities in time. In short, I needed much more reassurance on the day-to-day than I did before my son was born.

I’m six years into my parenting journey now and my husband and I have two sons. When things are going well, I feel great. When things get hard—as they do between managing work, raising the kids and my relationships—that lonely feeling can creep back in. Over the years I’ve learned to seek out the support I need, anywhere and everywhere I can get it. Most helpful during trying times are those relationships I’ve formed with other parents who are in the midst of struggling with similar challenges.  Sometimes a simple acknowledgement that my struggle is real and that  someone cares is all it takes to make that loneliness disappear–it reminds me that I’m not parenting alone.

 

Hope Springs Eternal

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Spring in the Northwest is something special. The brilliant colors from blooms and blossoms are everywhere and everything else is lush and green. When the sun comes out for more than a few days in a row and the temperatures start to get into the 60s, you just can’t help but hope with all of your heart that it’s here to stay, that we won’t return to 50 degrees and raining again before summer arrives.

As a parent, I’ve noticed that I’ve become much more aware of the power of hope than I was before I had children. Now, hope seems central to my life: hope for my children, who they will become and my role in this. Hope for my husband and myself that we will do right by our children, right by ourselves and right by our relationship. Hope that I’ll continue to connect with other parents, learn from them and share what I’ve learned. Hope that I’ll continue to enjoy this journey I am on as much as I am enjoying it now.

And while all of this hoping keeps me optimistic about the future, I have to remind myself that many things are out of my control. I can’t control everything that happens to my children 24 hours a day—they go to school and daycare, and I work so it isn’t possible to be with them every minute. But I can control whose care I put them in when I can’t be there. Similarly I can’t control who my children will become as adults but I can teach, guide, protect, support and encourage them while they are under my husband’s and my care. I can’t control other people’s actions (as much as I wish I could sometimes), I can only control my own. And I certainly can’t control the weather, despite how much I want it to be warm and sunny.

Almost every year my hopes are dashed as soon as I convince myself that this spring might be different—full of sun and warm temperatures. Inevitably the sun goes back behind the clouds, the rain begins and the weather cools. I know that despite my hopes, the reality is that spring in the Northwest is a mixture of all these things: sun, overcast skies, rain and weather that is cooler than I’d like, but also beautiful flowers and blooming trees. And even if the change isn’t permanent—the joy that I experience when the tulips, daffodils, and trees start to blossom is worth it. It gives me hope.  So even though I know this spring will probably be like the rest, I’m reminded I ultimately don’t have control and need to just enjoy it.  Much like being a parent, plenty of things are outside of my control but that doesn’t stop me from hoping for the best and enjoying the journey along the way.

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.

Spring Forward! Time to adjust the clocks…and yourself

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When I woke up on March 11th, I was reminded that all of the clocks in the house needed to be moved forward one hour. Ugh! I lost an hour. Time is the most important thing I have and losing an hour due to something completely outside of my control is maddening.  My husband tried to remind me of the upside, “At least the kids slept until 7 today!”

There are things I love about daylight savings time: longer days, blooming flowers, and the knowledge that summer isn’t that far away.  But I’m not so fond of the sun–though I desperately miss it in the winter months–keeping my children up late. Before kids I loved the longer days, with kids? Not so much.

I read up on some ways to help children adjust to the change like keeping them up a little later or darkening their rooms by putting curtains over the blinds, but none of them worked.  However, our children seem to have figured out how to adjust on their own. They go to bed at their normal bedtime but instead of falling asleep right away, they stay up playing in their beds or talking to each other. Despite falling asleep a little later, they seem to be well rested when they wake in the morning so I’m not too worried about it.

I wish I could adapt to change so easily.

The biggest change I’ve had to adjust to in my life was becoming a parent.  I thought I knew what I was getting into—less sleep and more responsibility—but there was so much more to it than that. The obscene amount of caffeine I would ingest, the frantic feeling of all the things I needed to learn and do, the overwhelming sense of frailty that comes with taking care of this little life, the “no touch zone” I instituted from my armpits to my knees with my husband for a period following our son’s arrival and an identity crisis I never saw coming. I did adjust to each of these things over time. On our son’s first birthday my husband and I raised a glass of sparkling cider to celebrate. We felt like we were finally starting to adjust.

I’m better equipped for change now and I’m always working to learn and prepare for the next chapter in our child-rearing journey. Part of this adjustment has been the acceptance that not everything is under my control and things won’t always go as planned. There will always be some adjustment needed no matter how much I plan. Just like trying to prepare yourself for when the sun will come out during daylight savings. You know it’s coming and you can prepare all you want but ultimately you just figure out how to adjust to it once its here.

Is The Hunger Games a book for all ages?

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It’s times like this that I think my parents had it so much easier. There was no Internet, no cellphones or texting when I was a child, and the most controversial book of the day was Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret—which covers such scandalous ground as a girl getting her first bra and having her period for the first time—pretty innocent compared to what’s available to young people today, right?  I was prepared for the dangers of the Internet and texting, bracing myself for all the trappings of social media; do I have to worry about books now too?

The movie The Hunger Games, based on the book by Suzanne Collins will open this upcoming weekend.  Let me start by saying that I’m a huge fan of the book. Though it’s considered young adult in genre, its appeal goes far beyond that, much like that of Harry Potter and the Twilight series. As you may have heard, there has been great controversy surrounding the franchise as the books are centered on children killing each other to stay alive in a sadistic adult game. While the premise sounds like something no young person should read, the Hunger Games is ultimately a story of youth, finding yourself, staying true to who you are, being brave, resourceful, even compassionate and using smarts to win an unthinkable game. The book’s heroine Katniss Everdeen is arguably an excellent role model in many ways. The question many parents may be asking is: how old should our children be before we let them read books with such a dark subject matter?

A girlfriend recently called me and asked for my opinion on this very thing. She was concerned because a local elementary school teacher had recommended the books for one of the class’ book clubs. While my friend’s children were not in the class in question, they easily could have been. She was concerned after having heard what the books were about and knew I’d read them so was calling to get my take.

Her inquiry forced me to think about when I would let my own children read it. I shared my recollections of the novel with her and encouraged her to read the book so she could make the most informed decision when her kids showed interest in them.  I was struck by the fact that when I think back on my own childhood, I can’t recall wanting to read any books outside of what was required by my teachers.  Times have changed and the young adult book market is hot so many of us with young children should probably start catching up on our reading before our kids start asking us about Panem.

My personal preference is to read or watch things before I let my kids do so. This is great in theory but with parents’ busy lives, it’s difficult to vet everything our children want to read or see. I think books like The Hunger Games give us a great opportunity as parents to talk to one another and share our thoughts. It also allows you and your spouse or partner to discuss and prepare for how you’ll handle controversial material your child shows an interest in. Plus it might get you to read some great books you might have otherwise ignored (though ignoring this juggernaut seems pretty impossible just now). I secretly love that I now have an excuse to read a tween/young adult book without being judged.

I’m grateful that so many parents are cognizant about what they’re exposing their children to, and grateful for people willing to share their perspectives including other blogs that are tackling this same topic. It gives parents a variety of inputs and helps us make better decisions.

Being a parent to young children today isn’t any easier or harder than it was in the past, it’s just different. I really enjoyed The Hunger Games and look forward to the day my children can read the books—many years from now.

What’s Luck Got to Do with It? One Woman Trying to Have it All.

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It’s an age-old question: can women have it all? How do you juggle all of your various roles—being a wife, mother, working woman—and take care of yourself? Is it even possible? I know I want it all and I know what that means for me. I want to have a fulfilling job that allows me to work hard, but not work 24/7 and I want to spend quality time with my children and my spouse on a daily basis while still finding time to take care of myself along the way. I think what I want is possible, but it takes a lot of hard work, a little bit of luck and a  willingness to set boundaries.

First: the hard work.  I don’t know that I appreciated how hard it is to be a woman until I got married. As a woman working outside the home, the difficulty only increased once I had children.  Working full-time, keeping up the house, cooking, taking care of the children, maintaining a loving relationship with my husband, making time for friends and squeezing in time for me adds up to a pretty full plate. It became clear to me early on that the biggest question I would need to answer was what am I willing to sacrifice? There certainly wasn’t an easy answer.  After I took my first job in management many years ago, I worked insane hours; my blood pressure shot through the roof and my adrenaline was always going because I felt like my hair was on fire—not very healthy. I knew even at the time that it was a bad situation but I didn’t know how to change it. My husband and I were only dating then and there were no children in the picture yet, so this was as good a time as any to learn from this experience.  After a year of that hectic lifestyle, I was able to move into a less stressful position, which gave me time to reflect and I decided that I needed to get some clarity on what I was willing to sacrifice for work. I determined that I would work my hardest (as I’ve always done) when I was at work, and do my best not to bring it home. This wasn’t an easy task, but with practice I find I’ve gotten the hang of compartmentalizing . Does that mean I don’t want to do a good job or that I don’t get nervous on occasion, say before an important presentation to a high level executive? No, but I’ve worked to make the necessary adjustments to my work life. In my twenties I really enjoyed traveling for work—it was an adventure and made me feel important. The luster of travel has long since worn off, which happens for most of us once we’ve been doing it for a while. I don’t mind traveling when I believe my presence is really necessary, but make it a point not to travel for travel’s sake. I’d rather spend time with my husband and kids.

Second: a little bit of luck.

Luck is defined by Merriam-Webster as:

1. noun:

a : a force that brings good fortune or adversity

b : the events or circumstances that operate for or against an individual

2. verb: favoring chance; also : success

 

Lucky is defined as: happening by chance

I’ve never understood why luck and success are seen by some as synonymous. I know a lot of successful people who have gotten where they are because of hard work, and their willingness to learn from others, take advantage of opportunities, and take risks. This doesn’t seem very happenstance to me but certainly a little luck goes a long way in making it all come together. For instance, if you’re lucky enough to want to work in a profession that allows you to have a lot flexibility, that will likely make balancing work and family life a lot easier than if you are say, an emergency room doctor. Of course, most of our work lives are somewhere on the spectrum.

Which leads us to my final point about boundaries. A girlfriend and I were talking about work recently and I was sharing with her how hard I’ve been trying to maintain my boundaries by not working after normal business hours unless it’s necessary, making sure I’m taking time to be fully present with my husband and children, and trying to make time to take care of myself. She was very encouraging and mentioned a book she had recently read called Weird by Craig Groeschel. The book tells the reader to break from the norm of being overworked, stressed and exhausted and create boundaries to live a more fulfilling life. After briefly telling me about the book she said, “What you’re doing is weird, and that’s a good thing.”

I’m not sure I’ve ever been wanted to be called weird before, but I’ll take it, because I do want it all and don’t care how I get it—luck, hard work or both.  My family is worth it and so am I.

Raising Baby / Bebe / Baobei – One American Parent’s Perspective

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America loves its reality TV. This phenomenon is something I’ve never quite understood though I’ve lived in the States my entire life. Since becoming a parent my TV watching has dropped dramatically, so the fact that I’ve even heard of the popular singing show The Voice is something of an anomaly, but I think its premise makes an interesting case for parents to consider.

For those who haven’t tuned in,  The Voice is a television show that has contestants come up on stage and sing a song in front of four judges. The catch is that all of the judges have their backs turned to the singer and can only be influenced by what they hear, not what they see. If a judge believes the singer is talented enough to want to take them on as a protégé, they hit a button that turns their chair around. If multiple judges pick the same person, the judges try to convince the contestant why they should take them on as a coach in order to improve their singing and possibly win the contest.

When you become a parent for the first time you are struck by three things:

  1. How much you don’t know and need to learn quickly
  2. The art of second-guessing oneself
  3. How afraid you are of making mistakes

The practical measures that you need to figure out become apparent quickly: how to diaper and dress the baby, feed the baby, how to soothe the baby, and possibly the most important, how to get him or her to sleep.

You then start to figure out that you’ll have to try and take care of yourself as well and have to figure out when you’ll find time to shower, sleep, not to mention keep yourself sane.

You become a quick study in the art of second-guessing.

Should I swaddle or not? Does that comfort the baby or will they resent me for it later?

Should I breastfeed, bottle-feed or both? If I’m unable or don’t want to breastfeed will I be negatively judged by others?

Do I put my baby in an activity class? Am I limiting their capacity to learn later if I don’t?

The list of questions we ask ourselves is almost limitless.

Then, just as we start to get comfortable and think hey, maybe I can do this we get hit by a line of questioning from well-meaning friends and family members that goes something like:

“Are you going to do that?”

“That’s not how I did it” or “That’s not how I would do it”

They almost can’t help themselves.  They don’t want to see you make the same mistakes they did. They want to share their insights, or should I say strong suggestions, so that you won’t struggle the way they did.

But what message do these questions send?  They reinforce our temptation to second-guess our every move. If the ones who love us most are second-guessing our decisions , then they must be onto something, right?

There are many books that provide culturally specific ways for people to parent that have generated quite a bit of controversy, including the recent tomes Tiger Mom and Bringing Up Bebe Undoubtedly both books have some helpful ideas that one might want to incorporate into their own parenting journey but I suspect they also feed  that nagging internal voice that says are you going to parent like that? The French/ Chinese/ Whomever are really doing a much better job.

We always fear that despite our best efforts, we still aren’t going to get things right. We fear we won’t be good enough for our friends, for our spouse or partner, for our children, but most importantly for ourselves. We set an unattainable measuring stick in an attempt to get parenting ‘right’.

I’d argue that the fear and doubt associated with parenting aren’t specifically American experiences but human experiences that know no cultural boundaries.

What all parents need is to be supported, not judged or made to feel like they are under constant scrutiny.

What if we took a cue from The Voice and instead of getting distracted by all the surface qualities of what our parenting journey looks like, we just listened for that one clear note of truth to guide us?

One Mom’s Diagnosis

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I am sick of being sick. I caught yet another one of my children’s illnesses this past week. Being sick as an adult is way less enjoyable than being sick as a kid. My mom used to pull out all the stops when my sisters or I were sick as children. She’d check our temperature, give us medicine, sometimes a Coke or Ginger Ale—a treat for us at the time—for an upset stomach, rub our backs, tuck us in and even roll in the small TV on the portable TV stand from her and my father’s bedroom. If only we could bottle the love and care our parents show us when we’re sick. Wouldn’t that be powerful medicine? Being sick wasn’t fun, but being taken care of and cared for helped get me through it.

I struggled with the decision to put my children in daycare when they were young, but knew that going back to work was something that I wanted and needed to do. One of the ‘upsides’ of putting my children in daycare I was told was that they would be exposed to all the germs out there. You’ll see, other parents told me they’ll have tons of colds for the first year or two, and then it’s smooth sailing. When the kids who stayed home go to school, they’ll be the ones getting sick and your kids will be fine. Needless to say, that’s not how it’s worked in our house.

My kids did catch colds almost instantaneously when they started in daycare and seemed to be sick non-stop until they were about two years old, when at last the constant illnesses did seem to wane. I thought we’re in the clear, excellent! It felt like what had been prophesized for me by those knowing parents was coming true – the kids would be sick often when they were young, but not sick later.

It didn’t hold for long. Soon I started to experience another trend. I would get sick when the kids did or get sick even when they did not. I have always been relatively healthy, rarely getting sick, but since my kids have been in daycare and now elementary school, I feel like I get sick as much as I did as a child. I have had countless colds and stomach viruses. I even caught both strep throat, which I remembered as a child’s illness, and a 24-hour stomach bug that was running rampant through the daycare that somehow missed my children altogether but got to me.  How could that be?

Of course, any of us can get sick at any time. Germs are everywhere and our best defense, as we tell our children, is to wash our hands frequently and cover our coughs and sneezes. This rash of illnesses also made me wonder if I was somehow contributing to the germs that were taking hold in my body. Was I as healthy and strong as it had been as a younger adult? Had I somehow allowed my body to become more susceptible to germs? Was I taking care of myself? Was I getting all the vitamins and minerals I talk to my kids about?

It got me thinking about my overall health. I exercise regularly and do eat my vegetables, but also know that between my own activities and my children’s, I run myself ragged.  I’m still working on how to get myself to that ideal healthy-all-the-time state; assuming it’s even possible. Sadly, my mom isn’t here to take care of me, rub my back, care for me when I’m under the weather and reassure me that everything is going to be okay. But I realize that I need to show myself the same kind of love and care my mother used to give me: not just when I’m sick, but all the time.  It might not come in bottled form, but it’s tangible—allowing time to rest and reflect, being more selective in the activities my family commits to and being more purposeful in taking care of myself—that’s the best defense I’ve come across for taking care of myself daily, more powerful than any medicine I’m aware of.

How do you defend yourself against getting sick?  How can you better take care of yourself?