Tag: Parenting

Another teeter-totter

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Hot topic on the net this week, at least until the Supreme Court ruled on the Affordable Care Act today, is this great article about “having it all” at The Atlantic.  I can’t even begin to cover all the great discussion this article has launched, but I am thoroughly thrilled that people are talking. I’d like to look at the main reasons I loved this article and the tidal wave of discussion it’s started.

1) The fiction that the first wave of feminism accomplished what we wanted it to accomplish is exposed. “Having it all” with no costs is a breezy lie. Finally, honest, heartfelt discussion on this topic. It’s validating for men and women who are trying to balance work and family and finding it impossible at best. Just to know that we are not the only ones struggling can make us feel better. This honesty ends the guilt and worry about “something the matter with me” if I can’t do it.

2) The author, Anne-Marie Slaughter, makes the point that we need cultural, societal, policy changes to improve the situation. This isn’t about just the challenge to couples on their own, that it will be all right if only they work smarter, get more education, build better support systems. Yes, those tools can help. But unless there is a shift in workplace expectations, whether industry, business, government, or academia, we will continue to lose talent when parents choose to opt out of their fields in order to pursue the elusive balance. Let alone what the current trend to crazy work schedules is doing to our collective and individual health as a nation that has sky-high rates of stress-related diseases.

3) Slaughter speaks up about wanting to be home, a truth that is often frowned upon and greeted with glazed-over eyes by those who don’t get it or scorn by those who perceive a parent as “wasting” one’s skills. Yes, we can want to be home more to make that critical contribution to our children, that in turn is a contribution to society. I am NOT implying that making a choice to NOT be home with children is NOT a good choice. What I’ve always espoused, because it’s what works for parents and children: to be the best parent you can be in the way that works for you. There is not a single Right Answer for every parent or every child.The point is the freedom and support to do what works for you.  To be your own perfectly good mom.

We need to remember that balance is not a set point, rather it’s a constantly shifting target. It’s looking at the big picture of balance over the long haul in a life, not the teeter-totter of every day. Let’s continue to evolve–through just this kind of discussion, inching us toward a livable solution.

Just in time for Father’s Day, a new “Survivor” series . . .

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Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 2 kids each for six weeks.

Each kid will play two sports and take either music or dance classes.

There is no fast food.

Each man must take care of his 2 kids; keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of ‘pretend’ bills with not enough money. In addition, each man will have to budget enough money for groceries each week.

Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time–no emailing.

Each man must also take each child to a doctor’s appointment, a dentist appointment and a haircut appointment. He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the Emergency Room.

He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a school function. Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house, planting flowers outside, and keeping it presentable at all times.

The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done. The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, adorn themselves with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep fingernails polished, and eyebrows groomed.

During one of the six weeks, the men will have to endure severe abdominal cramps, backaches, headaches, have extreme, unexplained mood swings but never once complain or slow down from other duties.

They must attend weekly school meetings, and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.

They will need to read a book to the kids each night and in the morning, feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb their hair by 7:30 am.

A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information: each child’s birthday, height, weight, shoe size, clothes size, doctor’s name, the child’s weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of labor, each child’s favorite color, middle name, favorite snack, favorite song, favorite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear, and what they want to be when they grow up.

The kids vote them off the island based on performance.

The last man wins only if…he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment’s notice.

If the last man does win, he can play the game over and over and over again for the next 18-25 years, eventually earning the right to be called Mother!

And of course, there are fathers out there who can kick these tasks out of the park. Kudos to them, and cheers to all on Father’s Day!

(And if anyone knows the original author of this piece, please give them my thanks and credit!)

Pits or cherries?

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Who says life is a bowl of cherries? Mary Engelbreit? No, wait, that quote was “life is just a chair of bowlies.” Actually, my quick Google search shows that “Life is just a bowl of cherries” was a song written in 1931, sung by Rudy Vallee and then in 1967 by Doris Day, with plenty of others in between. The original idiom implies that everything is carefree and life is wonderful.

Even though most of us would probably protest that we know life is hard and full of challenges, this idiom is sneaky, invading our expectations and coloring our daily lives. As with many figures of speech I like to challenge, this little idea is insidious, lurking in the shadows, unrecognized. Too often, we think life should be simple, carefree, and easy. We expect that we can dodge difficulties. We yearn to protect our children and loved ones from all pain and tribulation, so that they can have smooth, trouble-free lives. More importantly, when none of these unrealistic aspirations are achievable, we blame ourselves. We feel like failures when we are unable to meet this impossible expectation to make life’s trials vanish.

Even though we know life’s path is often through the pits, we lament the toll the negatives will take. The all or nothing, black and white thinking invades, and we think one difficulty wrecks the whole. One bad day for your child will ruin her life. One setback for you means you never meet your goal. To paraphrase another familiar fruit idiom, one spoiled cherry does not ruin the whole bowl. Especially if you clean out the bowl frequently! Sure, the mold will spread if you don’t weed out the rotten ones.

Moving through our lives, we need to note the rotten moments, and set them aside, just like that one funky cherry. The hard spots, the pits, are where the growth comes. The challenges that strengthen, calling us (or our kids) to stand up, to define what works for the life we have crafted, would not be possible without the pits. A life that is smooth, always running well, is not only boring, unrealistic, and unachievable, it is not a road that stretches us. No obstacles mean no push to change.

All of this is not to say that we can’t lament the tough spots. Validation that life is hard is very comforting. Release the sense, however, that life is hard because you are not doing your best or have failed somehow. We are all doing the best that we can, in a way that works for us, at any given moment. There is just much hard stuff we encounter that we cannot control. It’s as much a part of being alive as the fact that your brain keeps thinking, your heart keeps beating, and your lungs keep breathing. So have a little self-compassion–life is hard, no matter what you do. And these challenges offer us a juicy chance to evolve.

Grade on the curve

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Racing through our daily lives, maintaining the breakneck pace that seems essential to not sink in today’s economy (or with current standards for parenting), you are normal if you check out the competition. How is your neighbor doing? Or your coworker? Are you the only one treading water, trying not to get sucked into the undertow? This type of social comparison seems as essential to our self-image as the pace itself. And, like most of us, you are certain that you are the only one struggling. Everyone else seems to be breezing along, gaily checking off items on their “to do” lists, while you can’t find that shred of McDonald’s placement scribbled with the grocery list. It’s probably under the bed with the dust bunnies which are steadily approaching the size of county fair champion rabbits.

NEWS FLASH: Everyone is in the same boat. No one is achieving 110%. Everyone is compromising, economizing, or sighing at day’s end because something got dropped. I say it’s about time to give ourselves a grade based on the curve.

Remember grading on the curve in school? If a test was particularly difficult, and no one achieved a perfect score, the grading scale was adjusted. A score of 80% could then be the highest grade anyone received, and all the grades were raised accordingly.

In high school, I was the curve-wrecker. Called this lovely term by one and all, and factually it probably was true. But once real life hit (aka children), I lost–and have never regained– that ability to be on time, have all the dishes loaded, dust under the bed, balance the work load, throw the perfect party while I remodel the house and author a book. I maintain a facade just like everyone else. Once I allowed myself to switch gears and adopt a new strategy, the curve wrecker mentality happily fizzled out.

By my informal assessment, in my life and my office, we each heartily believe that we are the only person doing “B” work. Sounds to me like everybody is doing B work, and it’s time for the curve. The daily expectations are for perfection–A++, 110%–and by definition, that’s impossible.

Embrace that you are doing the best you can. It’s your best, and what others are achieving has nothing to do with you. But here’s the secret: no one is actually getting 100% done. Let’s just all admit that and activate that grading curve next time we are tempted to compare our accomplishments to the next person.

Don’t take it personally

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Guilt–it’s one of the most common feelings. We feel badly when someone we encounter is disappointed, angry, depressed–and we tend to feel it’s our fault. Lots of energy goes into this belief in our heads, especially in relationships. (Though I have found this to be a common belief in interaction with strangers as well.) Your significant other is quiet and sulky. A friend snubs you at a party. The boss finds fault with a project you completed. A service employee looks at you wrong. The automatic response in your head is “what did I do?” Or even “I screwed up.” The default reaction implies that event A–something you did–led to event B–the negative reaction of the other party.  We take the reactions of others quite personally, particularly when we’re stressed and running on empty.

Over the years, shifting this perspective has been one of the biggest challenges I’ve faced. Women, in particular, are socialized in this culture to believe that others’ feelings are our responsibility. From an early age, we’re questioned and/or chided, “did you make your friend cry?” “Don’t make me mad.” One strategy that does help is encouraging the guilt-ridden to stop and consider alternative explanations. Ask yourself, when that guilt about another’s feelings arises, “what could be going on that’s NOT my fault?”

Recently, however, I read The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom . One of the agreements that Don Miguel Ruiz advises is “don’t take things personally.” Rather than simply saying “it’s not about you,” an idea I have tried to “sell” unsuccessfully for some time, he suggests a powerful perspective shift. Ruiz says when we believe someone else’s feelings are our fault, that exaggerates our own importance. Who says we are that powerful, that moods all around us stem from our actions? Are we that critical in the lives of others? I think not.

There seems to be a paradox in why this alternative view appeals to the guilt-ridden. Just like we’re taught (incorrectly) at an early age that “good girls” make others angry or hurt, so are we taught that good girls don’t brag. Good girls aren’t self-centered. Yet when we attribute the power for another’s feelings to our actions, we are doing just that: claiming powers that are an illusion. (For once, the social training that creates the problem also contains the solution!)

No one has that much power. The flip side of the argument makes this clear. When a two year old (or a thirteen year old) is really upset, do you have the power to make it all better–especially if they’re entrenched in that mood? Maybe you’re more powerful than me, but I never succeeded at that.

Next time the guilt rushes in about another’s emotions, don’t take it personally. Sure, check it out if you want, making sure there’s no transgression on your part. But the majority of the time, moods originate within, and we only inflate our importance when we assume otherwise.

A strategy shift

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Chastise yourself much? Scold yourself for not doing the right/healthy/calm thing, hoping to move yourself into good behavior? This thinking runs through my head at times: “What were you thinking? You know better!” As a culture, we have a too-ready acceptance of this process, i.e. that the best way to bring misbehavior in line is through correction and scolding, especially when applied to ourselves versus children. It’s a time-honored tradition, as this quote suggests:

Some are kissing mothers and some are scolding mothers, but it is love just the same, and most mothers kiss and scold together.——-Pearl S. Buck

Recent research looked at the effectiveness of this type of negative thinking in motivating behavior. Participants were instructed to focus on one of two options when facing a decision about eating a piece of chocolate cake. The first group focused on how badly they would feel if they broke their diets and ate the cake, while another group zeroed in on how virtuous they would feel if they resisted temptation. The study participants who connected with pride over making the healthy choice actually could resist the unhealthy food choice, while those who scolded themselves dove right in. Perhaps the scolding made them feel badly, ramping up the craving for comfort food?

This seems like another case of adults adopting a strategy that we would not practice with children. We know to correct gently and focus on what children have achieved, rather than rant about mistakes.

(Though we’ve swung the pendulum perhaps too far with children, fearing scolding will warp their little psyches. I’m not advocating harsh treatment of children by any means. But I am reminded of a story from my family’s early parenting days. My toddler daughter scribbled a picture; Dad oohed and aahed. So she scribbled another one. He oohed and aahed again. This went on for twenty minutes, as the drawings regressed to just a pink line of crayon across a whole sheet of paper. Daughter was clearly testing out the fatherly admiration society, not producing art for her own sake. )

Let’s apply these rules about shaping behavior in our own heads. Next time you need to motivate yourself, focus on how you will feel better with triumph, rather than selecting shame as the motivator. I’d love to hear how this works for you.

No one was ever scolded out of their sins. ——William Cowper

A Call to dads

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I know I said I’d address expectations for others’ behavior and how others may not have the same rules in their heads that we do in my next post. That will actually be next week. In the meantime, with Father’s Day this weekend, several bits of info popped up from the internet and I just couldn’t resist a comment.

So many couples get locked into the same roles they observed in their parents: mom was the kid and home maven, and dad earned the money. Over at CNN.com this week is a stellar message for stereotypical dads on what they are missing, inviting dads to “wake the hell up.” Even better, there are specific guidelines on how to step up. The benefits for kids of an active, involved father are huge, from increased vocabulary to healthier male-female relationships in adulthood. Read that column here, and please share it widely. And a heartfelt thanks to writer Jeff Pearlman for his honesty.

Not only do kids and moms need dads to be equal partners in the muck of day-to-day parenting, it seems that 65% of dads actually want that as well–while admitting that they don’t participate equally. Read a summary of that research here.

Who says dads have to stay stuck in these ancient patterns? Let’s challenge those assumptions this Father’s Day–and throughout the year. And moms, that might mean, when dad steps up, you have to let him do it his way–remembering the mantra “what matters is that it’s done–my way or not.”

Happy Father’s Day!

Regroup on life’s winding path

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There’s an old story about the young bride and the ham. Cooking a ham for the first time, she lopped off both ends of the ham, threw them away, and put the ham in the pan to bake. Her husband questioned her–what was wrong with those pieces? They looked perfectly fine to him. The young woman answered “my mother always did it that way.” Humoring her husband, she called up her mom to ask the reason. Dear old mom gave the same reply–her mom had always cut and tossed the ends as well. Working up the chain of grandmothers in pursuit of the origin of this supposed necessary step in ham preparation, great-grandmother finally had the answer: to make the ham fit in her pan.

Even if you’ve never baked a ham, you may be a locked-in creature of habit. Two examples have jumped out lately. In infancy, parents strive to meet the baby’s needs ASAP, jumping at the least cry or whimper. It’s true that babies who are fed on demand and picked up promptly when they cry become securely attached to their caregivers and even cry less. And of course we don’t want our children to be unhappy–ever. As kids grow, however, this strategy needs to evolve. If parents don’t teach children that a) others have needs too and b) waiting is sometimes necessary, we risk raising self-centered brats with no capacity to soothe themselves or delay gratification.

An achievement-oriented, perfectionistic drive toward life is another strategy to revise over time. Working toward 120% throughout school, even into graduate/professional training and establishment of a career, is rewarded because it leads to accomplishments. At some point, however, the value of this over-the-top drive reaches the tipping point. Continually working for 120%–or even 100%—is exhausting. We feel never good enough; we’ve never “arrived.” We don’t allow ourselves to savor accomplishments, in favor of life balance. And when we try to back off, because of the human tendency toward all or nothing thinking, we feel like failures. Either it’s 120%, or nada. We don’t know how to find that middle ground of perfectly good–or even excellent–versus perfection.

When we forget to question the path, the tradition, the long-held strategy, misery and frustration can result. Needs and goals change; steps to achieve those shift. Who says the old way is still the best way? More of the same is counterproductive.

When feeling stressed or stuck, challenge your strategy. Do something different for a change. At the Chopra retreat that I attended recently, leader Davidji, challenged us to write down an expectation we had for the outcome to a usual interpersonal encounter. We then flipped the paper over and had to write five other possible scenarios–mind-bending, in a challenging and good way. The next time your strategic habit is not working, push yourself to generate five new alternatives. And then apply a new solution, for a possibly pleasant surprise–relief!

Mother’s Day, part 2: The Invisible Mother

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After I did the previous post, my sister-in-law sent me this. Just had to share.

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way
one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask to be
taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, ‘Can’t you see I’m on the phone?’
Obviously not; no one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping
the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see
me at all. I’m invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of
hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this??
Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a clock
to ask, ‘What time is it?’ I’m a satellite guide to answer, ‘What number is
the Disney Channel?’ I’m a car to order, ‘Right around 5:30, please.’

Some days I’m a crystal ball; ‘Where’s my other sock?, Where’s my phone?,
What’s for dinner?’
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes
that studied history, music and literature -but now, they had disappeared
into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She’s going, she’s going,
she’s gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a
friend from England. She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she
was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there,
looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to
compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she
turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, ‘I brought you
this.’ It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn’t exactly
sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription: ‘With admiration
for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.’

In the days ahead I would read – no, devour – the book. And I would discover
what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could
pattern my work: 1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals – we have
no record of their names. 2) These builders gave their whole lives for a
work they would never see finished. 3) They made great sacrifices and
expected no credit. 4) The passion of their building was fueled by their
faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the
cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird
on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, ‘Why are you
spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by
the roof, No one will ever see it And the workman replied, ‘Because God
sees.’

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was Almost
as if I heard God whispering to me, ‘I see you. I see the sacrifices you
make every day, even when no one around you does.

No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve
baked, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to
notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see
right now what it will become.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of
the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work
on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went
so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime
because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s
bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, ‘My Mom gets up at 4 in the
morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3
hours and presses all the linens for the table.’ That would mean I’d built a
monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there
is anything more to say to his friend, he’d say, ‘You’re gonna love it
there…’
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re
doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel,
not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the
world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.

Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know… I just did. And remember to COUNT all those zillions of “invisible” tasks you do each day.

Mother’s Day Movie Fun

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Happy Mother’s Day to all my readers!

Mother’s Day videos abound–to enjoy, personalized or not, and share. So I made one for you, my dear readers. I appreciate you all, moms and nonmoms, and hope you enjoy this selection. Pass it on!

JUST FOR FUN!

If you want to make your own, check it out here. There are two more to choose, from one of the funniest shows on TV.