My job is so full of paradoxes, which is probably part of why I love it.

Right now I’m living the paradox of being tickled pink that three moms have signed up for my upcoming class at Front Range Community College, and at the same time, wanting a few more to come join us for the adventure we’re about to start.

To this end, I wanted to write a blog post about some of the things we’ll be talking about and exploring as part of this class.  So I made a bunch of notes about all the brilliant things I have to say to busy moms about how to shift their lives (and their families) from chaos to calm.  And believe me, I have a lot to say on the subject.

But the first thing I’m going to say to them is this:

There is nothing wrong with you.

No matter what the state of your kitchen, your closets, your appointment book, your checkbook…  There’s nothing wrong with you.

No matter how often you’ve been late for school, lost your keys or forgotten to send a birthday card… There’s nothing wrong with you.

No matter how mad, frustrated or disappointed others have gotten with you, or you’ve gotten with yourself for any of these things…There’s nothing wrong with you.

If they take nothing else from the class, I hope they will take this deep into their hearts, their bodies and their minds.

And herein lies another paradox.

If there’s nothing wrong with them, why sign up for this class (or any other for that matter)?

Because when you think of yourself as ‘disorganized’ it feels like there is something wrong with you.

And the disapproving looks from the school secretary when your kid needs a tardy pass (again!), or the irritation at having to pay late fees for the videos that have been in your car for 3 days (during which time you’ve passed the return slot at least 5 times), or the frustration at having to reschedule an appointment because you got the day wrong are nothing compared to the internal monologue that starts something like this:

O. M. G.  I can’t believe you’ve screwed this up again.  Will you ever get your act together?  Well, I suppose we shouldn’t really expect any different given your track record….

And then it gets worse… sometimes much worse!

So what I want to say to the moms in my class is this:  You are OK right this minute.  Being disorganized is not a moral failing or a personality defect.

At the same time, it can be incredibly frustrating and has some very real costs.

Some of these costs are financial (late fees, fines, etc.).

Sometimes there are lost opportunities (tickets are sold out, summer camp classes fill up).

Often relationships are damaged (a friend is hurt when you forget your coffee date.  Marriages are strained when disorganization leads to chaos in the household).

But the most significant cost of disorganization like this is that moms lose their ability to trust themselves.  And because they don’t trust themselves to handle the ‘little things’ of life, they don’t think they are capable of reaching for more.

Those little monster voices in our heads are very persuasive, because if you can’t even manage to get the kids to school on time, how can you ever hope to do that thing you’ve always wanted to do.

And this is the biggest cost- to these moms, and to us all.  Because right now there is an enormous reservoir of human potential being wasted because a whole bunch of moms think they aren’t ‘organized’ enough to manage their families and also live their own big dreams.

There is art that isn’t being created.  Books that aren’t being written.  Organizations that could change people’s lives for the better that aren’t being started because their creators are overwhelmed by the thought of getting dinner on the table.

There’s something seriously wrong with this picture!

And this is why I’m doing this class. So that a handful of moms can get a grip on the things that are making them crazy.  But mostly so that they can create the time, space and self-trust that it will take to bring their dreams out of hiding and into the world.

So… if this is you or someone you know (in the greater Boulder area), please pass this along.  I’d love to see you (or your friends!) in the class.

Click here for more information and registration.

What do you think isn’t happening because moms think they aren’t organized enough?  Please share in the comments!

I’ve never had a summer house or ski condo or anything like that, but checking back in here with my website and blog feels like I imagine that would feel.

It’s a place I know and love, but the key feels a little sticky in the lock and when I look around it has an empty, stale feeling.  I can almost see the vase full of wilted flowers on the table, and cobwebs in the corners.

Things are just as I left them in the middle of December, not realizing that I would be gone quite so long.    It’s like I planned to be gone for just a few days, but it ended up being weeks.  And so instead of closing up properly, making sure the fridge was emptied and the trash taken out, things are kind of scattered about.

Definitely not a conscious exit!

I’ve been thinking for a couple of weeks now that I really needed to get back in here and do a little tidying up and I’m sure I will.

But most of that will have to wait.

I imagine if I did have a little cabin in the woods somewhere I’d spend the first hour or two visiting every room, opening the windows and airing the place out.  I’d be making sure the electricity and hot water were functional, taking inventory in the kitchen, wiping down the counters and getting rid of the most obvious cobwebs.

But after that, after making sure the basics were handled, I think I’d want to light a fire in the fireplace and curl up on the couch with a cup of tea  (Because there would always be a stash of tea in the cupboards!) and soak up the essence of the space: warmth, safety, coziness, comfort, relaxation and spaciousness.

And then I might pull out a book or my knitting or enjoy a quiet conversation with anyone else who wanted to chat for a bit.

So despite all the things that need to be done, the wilted flowers that need to be taken out, the remains of the last project that need to be cleaned up, etc… I’m not doing any of that today.

Right now, I just want to warm up this space and warm up myself for the tasks of tidying, re-arranging and so forth.

So today I’m just waving Hello.  I’d love it if you’d wave back, and if you’re so inclined, you’re welcome to sit and stay for a while.

There’s plenty of room on the sofa and I have lots of blankets to cuddle up in.  And the tea kettle is always on!

Do you have a cabin/summer house/vacation condo or some such?  What is it like when you go back after being gone for a while?  Do you have a blog that you sometimes leave unattended?  What’s it like for you when you venture back in?

Drowning doesn’t look like drowning.

I found this link courtesy of Patti Digh. I post it here partly as a late summer public service announcement, but also because it got me to thinking.

(I know… what else is new?!?)

The whole thing is well worth reading, but here’s the two-sentence takeaway:

Drowning is almost always a deceptively quiet event. The waving, splashing and yelling that dramatic conditioning (television) prepares us to look for is rarely present in real life.

This article struck me for a couple of reasons. The first is that it confirms that I probably really did save someone from drowning once.

Ten-year-old saves boy from drowning… film at eleven!

Well, not really.

I’m pretty sure I did prevent a drowning (or at least a near-drowning) but it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as the rescue that the author describes.

When were in elementary school, my sister and I spent several summers in day camp at the Y and every afternoon in the pool. It was a typically busy day at the pool, which was full of kids from the day camp along with everyone else who’d come to enjoy a respite from the brutal Texas heat. I was hanging out in the pool, laughing, splashing and playing with my friends.

This pool was L-shaped where the long side was basically a 25 yard lap pool with diving boards at the far end and the short side was a shallow ‘kiddie pool’ area. There was a rope separating the two parts of the pool, and a step down from the kiddie pool into the shallow end of the lap-pool.

There was a design flaw in this set-up that I noticed even as a kid.

The step and the rope were not lined up, making it possible to duck under the rope and still be on top of the step in the shallowest water. About 8 inches beyond the rope the step dropped off to the depth of the lap pool which was about 3 feet at the shallowest end. If you didn’t know it was coming, that step came as a rude surprise! And if you were short, that step could feel like a cliff.

So there I was, playing tag or marco polo in the shallow end with my friends and I looked over and saw a ‘little kid’ (which means he was maybe 4 or 5? I don’t really remember) on our side of the rope. He was just standing there and at first he looked like he was just blowing bubbles in the water which came to right his nose.  I didn’t really pay too much attention because he didn’t really look like he was in trouble. He was just standing there blowing bubbles. There were lots of kids in the pool and I was playing with my friends.

Besides, there were plenty of lifeguards all around and if there was a problem they would handle it, right?

But then I looked again and something must have seemed odd to me. Maybe I noticed that he wasn’t really moving much (which as we all know is pretty rare for kids in the pool!), or that he didn’t seem to have a grown up nearby. I can’t say exactly what made me think that something was wrong. And I don’t remember whether I said anything to him or not.

What I do remember is simply picking him up by one elbow and putting him back up on the step. I don’t recall what happened then, but he seemed to be OK, and I went back to playing with my friends.

And that was that.

After I’d done it, I realized that I might have done something important, and at the same time, completely unremarkable. This was certainly no dramatic rescue, like I’d seen on TV.

And really, what had I done?   Lifted a little kid back up onto a step.

Not exactly heroic. And it barely seemed worth mentioning to anyone.

And yet there’s something about this story that tugs at me. It seems to be a perfect example of the way that our actions can be both monumental and mundane at the very same time.  This paradox seems to be at the heart of motherhood and life in general, because I see it everywhere I turn.

Drowning doesn’t look like drowning part 2

The second thing that struck me about this article is that what the author says about drowning in water is also true about drowning metaphorically.

When someone is having a big struggle in their lives, it rarely looks like what we see on TV.

When couples fight, it rarely involves drinks tossed in the face or dramatic scenes in front of family and friends. More often it seems like we don’t necessarily know anything is going on until someone mentions that they have a new phone number because they’ve moved out.

So what does drowning look like?

It doesn’t look like flailing around. Or someone screaming “Help!”

People who are drowning look remarkably ‘normal.’ They’re upright. Their heads are above water.

Drowning in life seems to be quite similar to drowning in water.

People go quiet. They don’t show up in the usual places. They don’t seem to hang around and chat like they used to. There might be a catch in their voice when you ask how they are. Or their eyes aren’t as bright and shiny as they should be.

Could you be a hero?

Is there someone in your world that might be drowning without anyone noticing? Someone who’s gotten awfully quiet lately? Someone who looks like they’re keeping their head above, water, but just barely? Someone whose eyes are looking a little glassy?

Look closely and you might be surprised.

You might also be surprised at how easy it is to give someone who is struggling a hand. You don’t have to be a superhero or even a trained lifeguard to save the day. A simple phone call or invitation to coffee might be all it takes to lift someone back up on the step so they can breathe a little easier.

Your turn:  Got any thoughts on drowning (literally or figuratively)?  When was the last time you did something heroic (even if it didn’t seem that way)?

Please share in the comments!

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I’ve often said that parenting is like having a pop quiz every day, and I’m always behind on the reading!

One of the more memorable ones happened the day my son, who was between three and four at the time, and I were in the car driving home from the grocery store.  A propos of nothing, he pipes up, “Mommy, when you die, does all of you die?”

In addition to giving him props for asking one of the biggest questions human beings ever ask, I tried to give an age-appropriate version of my personal beliefs on the subject.  And then had to laugh, because no one ever told me prior to becoming a parent that I’d need advanced coursework in Theology (see above); Astrophysics (Mommy, how far away is the sun?); Sociology (Why is that man standing on the corner with a sign?) and much, much more…

Every day a new pop quiz… and every day I read the wrong chapter the night before!

In a way it only makes sense- our children are constantly growing and changing.  And there’s always that lag time in our learning curve as parents.  The bummer of it is that so many of our hard won skills and knowledge become obsolete so soon.  Remember that brilliant trick you came up with for potty training?  No, I didn’t think so.  But I’m certain that you did something right there- after all- your kid is not going off to college in diapers, much as you might have worried about that!

For me the latest pop quiz was occasioned by the need to get AJ glasses for the first time.  Turns out his eyes are great- 20/20 vision- but they are not working properly together, making it hard for his brain to make sense of the incoming signals.  I won’t bore you with the medical mumbo-jumbo (partly because I’m just deciphering it myself), but the upshot is that he’ll be wearing glasses for close up tasks and doing some vision therapy for a while.

So the glasses came in over the weekend.  After we got them home, he decided he was not going to look at himself in the mirror because he was going to look “weird.”  Never mind that I’ve worn glasses (or contacts) since I was ten, and his dad wears glasses for reading and driving.  Never mind that at least two kids in his class wear glasses.  None of that was relevant at this moment.

He asked me over and over- “Mommy, do these glasses make me look weird?”

Now this question reminded me of the infamous, “Do these jeans make my butt look fat?”

Neither question really calls for a yes/no answer.  And while there is an acceptable answer to the latter (hint it starts with: “Honey your butt is adorable.” And it ends with “Honey, your butt is adorable.”), it was clear that I could tell him how cute/handsome/brilliant/normal/not-weird-at-all  he looked until I was blue in the face and it wouldn’t matter.

He needed something else.

Without even mentioning the glasses, I said, “You know what would be really weird?  If radishes started growing out of your ears.”  That got a little smile out of him, so I figured I was onto something.  So I went on.  ”Or if you developed pink and purple and yellow and green spots.  Now that would be weird.”  He started getting into it at that point, and recalling Imogene’s Antlers said, “What if I woke up with antlers.”  We agreed that THAT would definitely be weird.   Now it was a game.  We spent the next ten minutes or so thinking of all kinds of things that would be TRULY weird.  The goofier we got, the more he laughed.

And then we left it.

He spent the rest of the day experimenting with his glasses on his own.  Putting them on, taking them off, putting them on again.  And I haven’t heard any more about glasses being weird.

I’m not saying we’re out of the woods on this one yet.  None of his friends have seen him with the glasses, or even know that he has them.  So, it’s entirely possible that we’ll have to revisit this once school starts.  But I feel like even if someone does give him a little bit of flak about it, he’ll remember that it could be worse.  At least he doesn’t have radishes growing out his ears!

I write about this for a couple of reasons.  First, because I think it is so important for us moms to notice when we do things right.  We beat ourselves up regularly for the things we think we should have done or not done, that we hardly ever notice the moments we get things right.

I was so pleased because I felt like I finally passed one of these endless pop quizzes!  It doesn’t happen nearly often enough.  And this moment of triumph will be eclipsed soon enough by my next mommy tantrum or missed opportunity.  I record this so that I might have a fighting chance to remember that I’m not always a bad mommy!

The second reason I write about this is that I’m always thrilled and grateful to learn from other moms.  While every kid is different and there is no single right way to handle any particular situation, I’ve learned more about being a mom from other moms than any library full of parenting books could ever teach me.  With our collective mommy wisdom, we can be living crib sheets for each other.

So what about you?  What pop quizzes have come  your way lately?

A life absent of boldness is a sure path to regret

–Julio Olalla

Wow… That title  probably sounds really obnoxious doesn’t it?

What kind of egotistical attention-seeking blogger would title a post that way?  And worse- implicate you, the modest reader at the same time?  Before you click that little red X and kick me off your screen, let me assure you that I’m no Paris Hilton or Brittney Spears wanna-be.  I’ve never stormed the stage at a concert or flashed anyone on Bourbon street.  You’ll find no video of me on YouTube.  In fact, much as I love to sing and dance, I’ve never done karaoke and can never bring myself to be the first one out on the dance floor.

But wanting an audience doesn’t necessarily mean engaging in embarrassing or self-destructive activities, nor does it mean exposing oneself in inappropriate ways- though given the celebrity culture that surrounds us, it’s no surprise if that is what we imagine.

“Look, Mommy, LOOK!”

How many times have you heard this?  Our kids certainly aren’t shy about demanding an audience.  They insist on having our full attention as they build a tower of blocks, or go off the diving board, or show off their latest creation.  And if they had their way, we would have to watch again, again and again.

Egotistical little brats?  I don’t think so.

I think that they’re looking for a few simple things: acknowledgement, appreciation and encouragement.  My son is just on the cusp of being too old and ‘cool’ to yell for me to watch him, but I see him looking for me as he approaches the end of the diving board to try out his front flip.  I know he’s watching, and give him a little ‘thumbs up’ as he climbs out to do it again.  Once it becomes old hat, he won’t need that acknowledgement, just like he doesn’t need me to watch him tie his shoelaces anymore.

But when we’re stretching ourselves, when we’ve devoted some amount of skill and effort to something, it’s sure nice to have someone notice our achievement.

Seems to me that this is behind our impulse to show off our latest creations, whether it’s a sweater we’ve knitted, a book or proposal we’ve written, even that meal we just prepared and served.  And we usually choose the people we show our handiwork to.  My mom and mother in law are both knitters, so I can be fairly sure of an enthusiastic response when I show them the first sweater I finished.  I’m not the world’s most accomplished knitter- which is why it’s all the more impressive that I finished a sweater!  And I’ll only bring it out to a crowd that I’m pretty sure will appreciate the effort, and not criticize my errors.

For most of us moms, our daily lives don’t have very many ‘grand accomplishments’ that seem worthy of recognition.  We do our mom thing in the privacy of our own houses, with only the dog or maybe a kid or two to witness it.  And often they are not the most enthusiastic audiences!  I don’t know about you, but about once a week as I’m serving dinner I hear, “What’s this?” or ” Do I have to eat it?”  I’m not saying we need a round of applause as we put the salad on the table, but every now and then a word of appreciation is always welcomed!

We work hard at the more obvious tasks of maintaining a home and family and sometimes (if we’ve trained them well!) our efforts are recognized by our families.  But so much of our work is invisible.  It’s the thinking, problem-solving, conflict-resolution, strategic planning, etc. we do that makes such a big difference in the lives of those around us.  And this happens behind the scenes- often in our own heads.  Who else would know how you delicately handled the situation so that potentially conflicting birthday parties happened on different days?  And how you smoothed some ruffled feathers, preventing a small situation from getting out of control?

Having these small, yet important things acknowledged is not insignificant.  Which means you need an audience.

What an Audience Can Do

Before you run screaming for the exit- hear me out.  I’m not talking about the kind of ‘command performance’ most of us were subjected to as children.  Forced to stand and spell words you could barely pronounce, or do math problems on the board where all your mistakes were visible– ughh!  I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have some story about being so nervous they flubbed their lines, or missed their big solo at some point or other.   Having an audience in this kind of situation can be excruciating.

But that’s not really what I’m talking about.

I’ve been both a runner and a spectator in a number of road races over the years and have seen and felt what an audience can do.  At the Bolder Boulder, the last stretch is up a decent hill into the stadium at CU.  By the end of 6 miles, many runners are breathing heavy, their form is sloppy and their pace is dragging.  But once they hit the stadium a remarkable shift occurs.  Even if they can’t pick up the pace, (which nearly everyone does) everything else about them changes.  They pick up their feet.  They pick up their heads.  They even smile and wave to the crowds and cameras that greet them at the finish.

Maybe you’ve been at a concert and seen something similar.  The band or performer is hot.  The audience is digging it, and it shows.  When things are really cooking, you can feel the love going both ways.  The audience can’t believe what they’re seeing, and the performers are doing things they didn’t even know they were capable of.  There’s a connection between the performer and the audience that is reciprocal.  The better the performer plays, the better the audience likes it.  The louder and more appreciative the audience gets, the better the performer plays.  That’s the MAGIC an audience can produce.

It’s All About Connection

Having an audience reminds us that we’re not alone in the world.  It lets us know that we are connected and that our actions have an impact on others.

For this reason, wanting an audience is not really about ego.  In fact, when I put the question out to my Facebook crowd (which is fairly stacked with artists and performers of all sorts) the first respose I got was from an artist friend who said that having an audience gives her a sense of purpose so she’s not just being self-indulgent.

In the best of circumstances, there’s a reciprocal flow of energy that happens between audience and performer that elevates them both.  Which leads to:

The Real Power of An Audience

The real power of an audience is that an audience (or the prospect of one) calls on us to show up.  Having an audience encourages us to dig deep and bring the best of who we are and what we have to offer to the table.

I sing with an a capella group.  We meet weekly and sing together.  I’ve learned a lot (never having been a singer) and it’s a lot of fun.  But in contrast to many of my other musical experiences, we don’t perform.  We’ve thought about it, and tried to get a couple of things going, but so far, nothing has panned out.  And because of this, I know that we have not even touched our potential as individual singers or as a group.  I don’t practice much in between rehearsals.  Our director lets the little mistakes slide.  If we had a performance coming up, I guarantee these things would change and FAST!  Right now, we’re just humming along at ‘good enough.’  We work on a song until it sounds pretty good and we’re not too sick of singing it.  Then we move on.

Now if you’ve read any of the posts on ‘slacker perfectionism’ you’ll know that I’m really a fan of ‘good enough.’  At least in some contexts.  But if  ’good enough’ is as good as it ever gets, that sounds like a recipe for a mediocre and unfulfilled life to me.

Some of my favorite experiences were of times when I was pushed beyond what I thought were my limits and did the thing I was sure I could never do.  How was I pushed?  By having an audience.  Whether it was a professor (thanks Dr. Powers!) trainer (Thanks Dan!) or group of people who were counting on me, the times I showed up in a way that surprised myself were made possible by an audience of one sort or another.

So if you want to step up your game- the fastest way I know is to find yourself an audience.

The Risks Of Audience

If you’re thinking that I’m insane, or at least have no idea what terrible things might happen if you ever were to even consider such a crazy idea… you may be right.  I realize that there are some risks to what I’m suggesting.  The major concerns seem to fall into one of the following three categories:

1. What if I mess up?
2. What if someone hates me?
3. What if nobody pays attention?

Well, I’m not going to lie to you.  In my experience, they will all happen.  You will mess up.  Sooner or later, you will make a mistake.  In public.  And you will feel embarrassed.  However I’m fairly certain no one has actually died of embarrassment, otherwise none of us would have ever survived our teen years.  So there’s that.

As for number two, guaranteed if you put anything out into the world there will be someone who doesn’t like it.  I bet if you put up a facebook group for “People Opposed to Peace, Love and Chocolate” you’d get a bunch of takers.  So, yeah.  Somewhere there will be people who don’t like what you’re up to.  But you’re a mom!  You put out ideas, requirements and sack lunches all the time that people don’t like!  If you’re lucky you’ll find enough who do that it won’t matter much.

Which leads to number three.  What if I throw this party and no one comes?  Here’s where the virtue of persistence gets a workout.  Apparently Stephen King got 30 rejection letters before Carrie finally found an audience.  Google your favorite band to find out how long they played before getting their major label contract.

All this is to say, the risks of seeking an audience are real.  And there are bigger risks.

The Biggest Risk

The biggest risk is to play it too safe.  To go too small.  To settle for too little.  Back to the quote from the beginning.  ”A life absent of boldness is a sure path to regret.”  And not just for you.  If you do that thing you do in a small way, how many people are you depriving of your gifts?  What good will fail to be done in the world if you act as if you are too insignificant to do it?

And this is why YOU need an audience too.  Because you have so many gifts to share.  Your thoughts, your words, your ideas, your creative expressions, your superpowers!

My Secret Mission

Well I guess it’s not a secret any more, but here goes…

My mission is to create a sort of “Justice League” of Mommies.  Some of you may remember this Saturday morning cartoon.  My memory is hazy, but I remember SuperMan, Wonder Woman, AquaMan, PlasticMan and various others.  Every week they would come up against some situation that none of them could resolve alone.  Each character had some awesome powers, but the situation always required all of them to work together.

I think that mothers are a powerful force for good in the world.  Sometime soon I’ll post my thoughts on exactly why I think that mothers make such potent world-changers, but that will have to wait.  For now, let me just say that we each have amazing skills, talents and passions.  I’m convinced that working together, each of us using our own unique superpowers, we can make an enormous difference in the world.

I’m a big fan of Chris Guillebeau.  He talks about building a small army of people to help you change the world.  So if you think you might be up for becoming part of a band of kick ass supermoms, here’s what you can do.

My Request

First, just be my audience.  No standing ovations are necessary!  Just subscribe to the blog.  Sign up for my mailing list.

Let me share my thoughts, fears, worries and insights about the wild ride of motherhood.  Call me to show up as honestly, and clearly as I can.

Second, let me know you’re there!  Did something make you smile?  Did something make you think?  Do you agree, disagree, have a question?  Let me know.

I’ve got ‘comment love’ installed so if you have a blog or website, you can let us know what you’re up to.

Third, Help me create a community of moms who know we don’t have all the answers , but who are trying to do a little better each day.  Let us celebrate our successes together and learn from our mistakes.  If you like what you see here, tell all your cool friends.

Let me/us be an audience for you as you move through the phases of motherhood and do your THING in the world.

My commitment

I will show up here twice a week- most likely Tuesday with an article and Friday with “Do-Overs and High-Fives”

I will read the coments thoughtfully and respond as appropriate.

I will strive to create and maintain a safe and nurturing space for moms of all kinds.

I recently read that when you try to build a community online, you have to let it go live before you know what it will be… so here we go! Mailing list is up top– Subscribe buttons are right below!  Know a friend who would dig this?  Forward it on!

Mom  SuperPowers— ACTIVATE!