Work It, Mama!

BY Shea Adelson

Summer Surrender (7.26.10)

It's a hot topic over here at my working-mom-run-company, Seven Stones: How do you work with the kids out of school? June was a wash for us in many ways, and for other moms I've spoken with, as well. Add in that vacation you had to prepare for - then recover from - the end-of-school-year events, a whole new level of juggling childcare, and the weeks of summer can slide by with work lists piling high.

What is a working mom to do (remembering that all moms are working moms), with endless things to prioritize and accomplish? I'm going to speak on behalf of us newer moms when I say this summer took me by surprise, and it certainly doesn't help that I struggle to focus when the heat is on and the outdoors look so appealing. So, it's a good idea to be aware that summer poses an opportunity to juggle. Without the structure of school, you are left to creating your child's structure - in the form of activities, childcare and changing expectations.

One piece of advice I was given as the countdown to our childcare provider's four-week closure continues is to declare it like it's going to be. If you are a working mom without flexibility, you've probably already handled what happens when school ends - aligned your vacation time, found a babysitter, asked the grandparents to move in for a few weeks - whatever it is that works for you. Those of us who have flexible schedules and can easily blow off work - at least for some amount of time - should still create a plan for something, even if what we plan for is to get less work done. In this way, we can be with reality - attend to our kids when it's time to play, attend to projects when it's time to work, and release our distraction and worry that we should be doing whatever we aren't. In this way, we surrender to summer.

Question for Facebook:

How have you been handling summer with work and the kids?

Cleansing with Children (7.19.10)

As the water from my left nostril makes a long line towards the sink, it is simply too compelling for my 3-year-old not to swipe her hand through. Of course, I understand this. But I am also grossed out. "Hunny! That water is dirty!" All laughs. For the last 10 days or so, I have shared my new morning practice with my little one. Wake up, prepare the neti pot and the alkaline water, then head upstairs to complete the routine that requires a bathroom.

This past weekend, Maxine learned how to swim. I wanted her to come to the water in her own time, not forcing her into a lesson or those swimmy things. And that approach seemed to work, because she got comfortable enough to have a lesson and wear the swimmy thing — without me.

Our time in the pool had been a bit fraught. I left for a few hours and while I was gone, she saw another kid get a lesson and wear the floatation device, making her decide that she wanted both. By the time I returned, she was able to swim with little adult support. When I got back in the water with her, our time together sounded something like: "Do it like the teacher teached me, Mom!" And those instructions worked: She was off swimming completely on her own, save the floatie, making new friends and telling me, "You can get out of the pool now!"

In that moment, it became clear that I cannot do everything for my daughter. Both because I do not know everything she will want to learn, and because the best messenger is sometimes — maybe even often — not Mom. Even for simple things: I've been trying to put her hair in a ponytail for more than a year. Her Auntie got one in miraculously (and without struggle), and that's how she likes to wear her hair now. So, I am grateful and I am humbled — albeit my ego slightly crushed.

In spite of said ego crushing, as a working parent, I feel hope and even a dent in the edified guilt that comes with parenting. There is a paradigm that says: "Moms know best and should always be around." Without getting too heavy into development and attachment theory, I think it's useful to assert that all dogma is tricky and probably untrue in its absolute form. There is research now that says a phone call with mom away on a business trip or girl's weekend can produce the same soothing hormones for a child that are present when she's right there. Not that we could even leave our children for such extended times that distress is created for all, but that we could lighten up a bit — trusting that our children are resilient, and that we have surrounded ourselves with community members who will do good by them.

It has also left me wondering: What is my purpose as a parent? Of course the specifics change as fast as the transitions of their little bodies and minds. But at the core, there is something very body centric about mothering (and fathering) — we give our bodies for nourishment, containment and soothing. We shuttle them around to activities. Use our voices to advocate for them when they cannot find their way or are not yet aware. And, we get out of their way so they can do their own learning, have their own relationships — then smile from the edge of the pool.

Working It Out, Together (7.5.10)

This past week, I resolved a conflict with my work partners, both of whom are entrepreneurial mothers, much like myself. It was a rough couple of weeks mucking our way through our first quarrel. I felt a lot of resistance to talking about how I was feeling. Feelings at work? Not allowed, right?! The reality is that we are building our professional services inside of sufficiency, a new emerging paradigm. Here, feelings actually have a place, although everything is an experiment.

Still, I didn't know how to be. I know how to buckle down and do my work, to ignore my feelings or save them for my personal sphere. But inside of our experiment of systemic sufficiency within our organization, buckling down at the expense of strong feelings doesn't work. It ends up leaking and oozing — causing secondary issues, tertiary ones, rippling until the team breaks down, trust is lost — the flow is interrupted.

What a relief to have a conversation and clean it up. "Forty-five minutes well spent. Worth every penny," said my partner. We were learning how to engage in conflict together, and somehow, we felt more connected, more trusting, more flow. In fact, we even solved a problem in the project that had snagged us. Yes, worth every penny indeed.

In my reflection of this somewhat upsetting and scary experience, I realized I live in constant fear and avoidance of conflict. Of course, conflict is part of life, and what I've learned from this experience (and being married with a child) is that recovering from conflict has the potential to lead to greater intimacy and connection. Working out interpersonal disagreement is akin to any team-building exercise. Only it's more stimulating in that the conflict is personal and has the likelihood of evoking more emotions. But the process inherently opens up the possibility of that team, or partnership, to flourish — to lean into the reality that life is constantly up and down.

Re-Entry Woes (6.28.10)

Long before I had kids, a friend (and mother of two) offered some foreshadowing to a shadowy part of co-parenting. She told me that it was hard for her when her husband returned from a trip. That it was easier when he was gone. That she felt guilty about it. "He interrupts our flow," she said. "He ends up being in the way, and I kind of wish he'd just leave." I had no context for such feelings at the time, but it stuck with me.

Now firmly embedded in a tribe of moms — who thankfully tell the truth about such things — I've discovered that this strong feeling of intrusion from dad, or the "other" parent, turns out to be quite common. Though my husband rarely leaves, we struggle around transitions of coming and going. There is the expectation that he'll take over once he gets home from wherever he's been and vice versa. And the inspiration for this article comes from a friend who wrote this email to me recently:

"[My husband's] been away a ton the past few weeks but to be honest, I've figured out so well how to do it solo. Strangely the conflict arises when he re-enters, because I expect him to take over ("because he should" my inner nag says) ... and then problems arise. Hhhmmmmm I think/notice — it's somewhat easier when I'm alone, but that's a whole other thing."

Is it easier alone? Or do we all need a lesson in transitions? I teach a course about making transitions inside of sufficiency, and still find them often disastrous. I've been experimenting, and one thing I've learned is to heed the truth about expectations: Expectations are premeditated resentments, so goes the wisdom (from the book "Courage to Change"). The last time Jon was away and returned, I kept on keeping on as if he was still away. Even though I was tired and would have loved a break, I didn't assume he'd take over, and I didn't make any requests or demands.

And it wasn't all altruistic and noble. A couple of things are becoming clear to me about myself: 1) I like the control of the rhythm and flow of the house and child, and 2) That current rhythm and flow takes time to adjust to a new adult. When I have been away and come home to take over right away, things have gone very badly.

You might not be the control freak I am, but if transitions are difficult with the returning of you or your partner after being away (it could even be returning from a day of work, not days out of town), consider what your expectations are. Once those are clear, see if you can put them aside while you identify your needs. A needs-based conversation is more likely to lead to the break you actually need, rather than a breakdown you probably don't.

What Videos Mean to a Working Mom (6.21.10)

Videos are the saving grace for many working moms. Just recently, a dear friend (and conscious mama) put in video after video for her 3 1/2-year-old as she struggled with a project that would not go her way. At the end of the day, she realized it had been five hours. She was stunned — holy moly, five hours — but I totally get it. More than half of the working moms I know are severely short the childcare hours they need to do their work at all — forget to do their work effectively.

What is this phenomenon all about? At the moment, I have been thinking of it as a passive underinvestment in women — working moms in particular. Even though women became the majority of the workforce for the first time in U.S. history, and are gaining college educations at a faster clip then their male counterparts, ideologies of women being the keepers of the home and hearth continue to prevail. It's the continuation of the second shift.

I am a fully participating member of this cultural phenomenon. I want to work, and I want to be home. I want my career, and I also want to be the one raising my child. I want both. My ambivalence puts me in this strange conundrum: I am not fully committed to my career, so I don't invest in the childcare I need to succeed, so I am always scraping by to get the work done I take on — therefore I turn to a video here and there.

This wasn't going to be me. When I was pre-motherhood, fantasizing about the fabulous childhood I would create for my offspring, there were 30 hours in the workweek and childcare cost $5 an hour (what I got paid as a teen). It's three times that now and come to find out, workdays and weeks are as long as they ever were. Many moms I speak to say something like: "Yeah, I do a lot, but none of it very well." The guilt and frustration can be overwhelming.

This short-on-childcare thing is wild. Videos are the tip of the iceberg. I know few women who are fully resourced with the help they need to do the work they are charged to do as both mothers and moneymakers. I sometimes think it might take a revolution, a march, a movement. But who has the time to march?! For now, I am experimenting with re-weaving social fabric, asking for help from other mamas, and offering my help in return. And on occasion, I pop in a video.

I'd love to hear from other mamas about this. What do you think of videos? Do you have the childcare you need?

Shush! Mama Needs Silence (6.14.10)

For about three months, I have been looking to attend a silent retreat. I haven't had luck (yet) in finding the right fit — timing, length, leader, location. It's not a new desire — to sit for a multiple day meditation retreat — but it is new in its quality, in the yearning, in the clarity that silence is what is being called for.

As it turns out, I am not alone. A good friend, working mom of two daughters, recently posted on Facebook: In 2.5 hours, I am going into silence for 5 days. I commented, with some urgency and yes, I admit, envy: Where?! I've been looking for a 5-day. The next comment from a friend of hers an hour or so later is: Guess you're too late. I was; it's true. She was off to the inner world.

My business partners, who are also moms, are right there with me, craving for silence — attending weekend retreats and looking for sessions that last up to 10 days. Another friend spent three precious days at home doing yoga and meditation while her partner took their little one on a trip to visit family.

What is it we are looking for?

What are we getting in the silence once we have it? It's been long understood that meditation causes relaxation hormones to release, lowering the sensations of stress and anxiety, inducing peaceful feelings and allowing us to center and connect with our purpose, our intuition, our deepest inner knowing. For me, being quiet helps me understand all the historical voices and patterns I am prone to submitting to when under stress. Some silence each day gives me a fighting chance to open and expand into possibilities I haven't seen yet, and to be lighter and more loving, especially when things aren't so quiet.

The time of quiet itself is lovely, too. It's a break, in the truest sense, from all the noise of the day, the media, the chatter, the constant negotiation with little ones — and with myself. Quiet nourishes the neuropathways for mental ease and emotional calm, and it just feels good. Though I appreciate the benefits of going into silence — and want them, it's the silence itself that calls me. This is why when my own daughter and husband take a trip for a family event this weekend, and I so luckily get to stay home, I will be following whatever arises out of the silence.

Please Leave a Message! (6.7.10)

With the now seemingly infinite array of forms to stay in touch, voicemail is really a relic in the world of technology. But for me and other moms, voicemail has become a key link into the lives of friends we can no longer visit as often, or spend as much time gabbing with.

My voicemail habit started years ago when one of my closest girlfriends from college was running a start-up nonprofit 3,000 miles away, and had little to no time to keep in touch via regular phone calls. The same was true with another bi-coastal buddy, so when I became a mom and free time dried up with the diapers, I really discovered the power of a voicemail.

The ease and efficiency: In just two to four minutes, I can download a snapshot of my life, my growing family's life, give a big virtual hug and kiss — and hang up. In doing this, I receive the benefit of tracking what is happening in my life in an un-intense or analytic way. My friend gets a call and gets to listen to the highlights of life without having to respond immediately.

The sufficiency: My friend returns the call, responding to what she heard in my message and giving her own check-in. We exchange benefits while receiving the best benefit of all: knowing each other. It turns out, it is enough to hear each other's voices, get some nuggets of the ongoing narrative, and experience the exchange — it's enough to feel connected.

The beauty of voicemail from other forms of communication is that it really is voice — which makes it a living, breathing entity, if not frozen in time. Unlike email, which has left tone up to various keyboard smiley faces, voicemail captures emotion just like a phone call. Unlike a phone call in the life of a busy working mom — or any woman for that matter, a voicemail is not dependent on negotiating time zones, naps and work calls.

I have kept whole friendships alive — and thriving — using the art of the voicemail. On voicemail I have sung, cried, yelled, sighed, been silent (though the system hangs up when you do that now), played songs, role-played, had major breakthroughs and more. And I'll admit that sometimes I leave, and receive, more than one at a time. Sometimes, given all there is to be shared, two to four minutes is only half the time needed — and so, there are two.

What Nourishes You? (5.24.10)

A fellow working mom and friend recently declared that for her to parent, contribute to her workplace, be a good friend — to do just about anything — she needs to first take care of herself. Her foundation of self - body, mind and spirit — must be intact to function, and for that she must nourish herself. 

There is an element of obvious to this, but in practice, my order of priorities look something like this: Feed and dress my child, make sure she is clean enough and doing something interesting, make sure all critical emails and calls are responded to, deadlines are met, recycling is taken out ... and then I wonder why I feel so tired. 

So, I've got nourishment on my brain. Given all of our commitments, our values and our priorities, how do we nourish ourselves? What supports us to thrive in our work and in our families? What do we need to restore ourselves so we can fulfill our promises?

There was a time for me where a long walk in the woods, meandering along the Charles River, reading over tea at a café, having a deep and untimed conversation with a friend, or simply sleeping in and reading the paper in bed was a common activity — and created space to recalibrate from life's demands. But that kind of time is simply just not available for most moms.

What is a mama to do?

First, we consider what we may already have in place that feeds us — body, mind and soul — and appreciate and accept those gifts as nourishment.

Then, we remember what is already in our tool belt that we may have forgotten about, or gotten out of the habit of practicing. Did you used to dance, meditate, or write in your journal? What nourished you in the past that may come in handy right now?

Finally, ask yourself: What would feel good that I can have? Perhaps it's a matter of resetting expectations and getting a smaller dose of what you need to do. For example, instead of three yoga classes a week, would one be sufficient? Rather than an hour of meditation, try five to 15 minutes. As lovely — and integral for sanity — as it is to be away from our children to reset ourselves, are any of your nourishing habits, such as gardening or cooking, something you could share with your children? 

What nourishes us is an ongoing inquiry — a commitment to asking yourself as you, your family, and your work life change over time. Rather than a thing we achieve or handle, maybe nourishment is a practice, an exercise of self-love and self-knowing. A question we ask ourselves each week or each morning: What would nourish me today? Share with me what you do that feeds and restores you to center at: shea@sevenstonesleadership.com

Slumber Party with my Partner (5.17.10)

We working moms have so little time to ourselves that it's easy to forget to nourish our relationships with our partners. After a long day working, parenting and juggling, I am not so inclined to want to work more — on my marriage. My first priority, I'll admit, is myself — getting on my mat, sleeping or reading — alone.

This approach does not bode well for fostering intimacy with my husband. And I don't just mean sex. I mean the whole enchilada. "Ships in the night," Jon will mutter as we tag-team Maxine and collapse on the couch with our computers on our laps. "I don't even know you anymore," he'll say later. I'll mutter back some excuses. We do date night out and date night at home, but really, there is a lot to be said for an overnight slumber party.

In our early days of new parenthood, we were not interested in leaving our daughter very much — and overnight was out of the question. Other mothers with young children like mine were leaving for one, two, even five nights. I thought that was crazy. Then I went away myself. Now I get it.

It's not just the sleeping in (though that's pretty groovy), or the morning sex (more groovy) for me, it's the free psychic space to be with your partner without the obligation of paying attention to your co-creation. The power of an uninterrupted conversation is not to be understated. Getting into a collective flow with your partner, following a shared rhythm, is a form of nourishment that can go a long way in a busy family life.

Though I have been slow to accept the wisdom of going away with my man, I am now clear it is worth what it takes to make happen. And I am thinking that going back to work has only amplified how important this is. If you were like me, you might have spent a lot of time with your child before starting work again, and so to actually leave her feels hard. Guilt and worry were a big part of my story. That is why leaving her with people she loves almost as much as us is key. We are very lucky to have grandparents nearby — willing and able — but now that I get how great this is, I am starting to scope out other families that might be good fits to do some overnight childcare exchanges. A world where couples can nourish their partnerships is a sufficient one indeed.

By the way — last weekend, Jon and I went to Goat School on our own. And whether you want to learn about caring for goats or not, I found it helpful to have a shared interest and structure to be the container while we got reacquainted again. With my newfound commitment to nourishing my marriage, I think we'll be able to work up to a weekend of self-lead activities very soon.

Multitasking Mama Reconsiders (5.10.10)

Mothers are multi-tasking geniuses (or savants, as I wipe sticky honey off my touch pad). I've been trying to do more juggling, to toss one thing up while focusing on something else, rotating through priorities like a graceful circus professional. But mostly I just multitask, trying to do two or more things at once. I lead phone calls while sweeping and folding clothes, catch up with friends while doing errands, and eat while pushing the stroller and taking business calls.

I should not have been surprised when Maxine dragged over her whole snack just to push the blender button to help make our smoothie. It sounds like a small thing, but it was strange the way she repeated, "Hold on, hold on ... I just ... need ... to ... (mumble, mumble)," as she gathered up her leftover breakfast pancakes five feet across the kitchen to press the lever she gets so much joy out of pressing. I didn't understand it right away, but I realized as she engaged both hands in different tasks — one bringing food to her mouth, one pushing the lever: She was mimicking me.

The other day a good friend commented, "Isn't it crazy what they pick up from us? It scares me." I responded saying, "I know. And it's not just the obvious stuff. It's all the subtle things we do and say, and don't do and don't say. That's what freaks me out."

But I changed my mind. I think the obvious stuff does matter. I am almost always doing more than one thing at a time. I am meditating while I wait on hold. I am doing business while cleaning, walking, cooking, doing dishes and laundry. I am working on one thing while I think about something else. I am playing rainforest in the shower with Maxine, while reviewing a conversation I had, making lists, writing emails. I am hardly ever present to just one thing. Even if the experts are saying that we can handle two tasks at once (though not as efficiently as one at a time, and not three or more), I know for myself, neither thing — or person — is getting my full attention.

As a working mom, this realization is posing a serious conundrum, since multitasking is my primary strategy to having friends and a clean house. And, it's also habit-forming. While I think it's pretty harmless to wash dishes and chat with my mom, I am noticing Maxine is agitated with me a lot, and I can trace it to my distracted way of being with her. For me, the more I multitask, the more it becomes a way of life, beyond just a strategy. In a world of limits, I'd like to offer her something beyond doubling up her activities to make the most of life. And since I model these subtle — and not so subtle — patterns, I'm going to have to get the hang of this juggling business.

Getting my Goddess Back (5.2.10)

I finally get it. I get the struggle of being a working mom, and how our sex appeal disappears underneath our roles (and sometimes our rolls, too). How the goddess in us gets squished into a dark corner — next to our art supplies and the dust of memories with wild girlfriends — it settles till the light can't shine through to remind us. I once hosted a goddess party at my house, pre-married-with-a-kid, and it was ... wild. Sexy. Playful. I remember that one of my friends was pregnant. She left early to attend to her other child, to make the 10 p.m. feeding. At the time, I felt so ... bad for her.

Five or so years later, post-marriage, pregnancy, birth and with preschooler, I attended another goddess party for one of my "oldest friends" who "only seems to grow younger" (words from a poem I wrote for her milestone 40th birthday). She defies, with the power and sex appeal of a Hollywood icon, the typical resignation many of us working moms succumb to regarding our femininity. She refuses to play to that game — as she once said — "to organize her life that way." She paints her nails, reinvents her style with new hairdos, drops in to Filene's Basement for a fashion find, and she always looks and feels sexy. These aren't the only ways to express femininity — not at all. In fact, her light is so strong, it matters not if she wears makeup or goes without. More than her clothes, or the fact she does yoga and dances, it's a mindset: This working mama works it.

To celebrate her 40 years on earth, she gathered 20 women friends from all areas and times of her life to play dress-up. We donned wigs and dusted ourselves in glitter. We shared our creativity through dance, art, writing and singing. She invited every single woman who has ever touched her life — and it was clear she had touched all of us, each in a particular way. It was clear she gives all of us hope. Without creating a workshop or writing a book — simply by being our friend — she gives us permission to feel our sexuality, embrace our life force. As a dance teacher, she lovingly — if not firmly — insists that we all sway our hips, shake our boobs (Wait a minute, they aren't just for nursing?) and really find our inner diva, our inner sexy, our inner spark. As a goddess herself, she elicits in us the recognition that we are also goddesses, even if we don't dress as fresh and young, or wear sparkles and feathers in our hair.

So last weekend, I stayed up way too late as a sexy red head in a low-cut top that I reserve only for nights out with the girls, and shook off the dust. I remembered that I am a goddess, diva and queen.

Memoirs of a Mama (4.26.10)

When Maxine was born, I had a tougher time than other moms, it seemed. I was obsessed about the smallest detail — why did no one ever tell you the significance of burping, how a missed air bubble could ruin your morning, or worse, your night's sleep? With all my babysitting, I could not understand why I was having such a hard time with napping, or leaving my child for the shortest of outings, or getting us both ready and out of the house on time.

On top of this psychic stress, I felt embarrassed. Other moms just had it together. They arrived to playgroup with makeup on, were planning their returns to work with poise, save a couple of tears. They laughed easily, cooing and playing with their infants without the slightest hint of dread or angst.

So, I wrote about it. I wrote and wrote — and wrote. In my journal and on my computer, I took down my Laments, Torrents, Frustrations, Grief, Anger and Panic. Then it softened into a conversation, not "Your Girlfriend's Guide," but more serious, about what no one tells you. It was then that I expounded on the dark side of reading too many sleep books, and wisdom of a good moms' group, and why therapy might just save your life — if nothing else, it gets you out of the house and away from your baby for an hour.

When I received an invitation to submit an essay for a book project, Fearless Nest: Our Children as Our Greatest Teachers, I was grateful and eager. Somewhere to put all my feelings, all my writing, not just a place to be heard, but a place to emit the light that was coming towards me through the tunnel. It was my first experience collaborating with an editor, Fearless Nest's muse Shana Parker, co-shaping my thoughts and feelings into her vision of offering a resolution to a parenting challenge.

What I submitted for publication ended up having nothing to do with those early rants of panic and cultural isolation. It was my fourth essay, a year later, and about four rounds of edits with Shana. It reflects where I was in the current moment with my 2-year-old, not my infant. By then, the days of night feedings and tracking bowel movements with gusto were over and practically forgotten. (Yes, I did start to forgive more seasoned mothers for not remembering such details when their kids were 10 and 13.) I wrote instead about how I committed to — and succeeded — ending my habit of yelling at my daughter around our fraught naptimes. I explored my tired vulnerability and attachment to her resting, and the angry Dragon Lady that emerged. I focused on the power of the 12 step slogans, how I became present — not to the right or wrongness of yelling — but to how it felt for her, and for me. I discovered a path that quieted my inner monster without alienating her.

I think it is fair to assert that writing this essay is the reason I actually stopped hurting Maxine with my loud frustration. As a young mom, I have little history with my swift changing little one. My essay was in the moment, not a retrospective: I did not have an experience in the past of solving a parenting problem to reflect upon. In my case, the very act of writing the essay caused me to look at what was happening in my current parenting that needed attention. Observing myself changed me.

The beautiful journey that I endured through writing this essay was necessary for my mothering. To check it out, order the book, or for more information on the project and its amazing contributors, visit www.fearlessnest.com. Moms from all over the country, with all different aged children, reveal their personal inner work in their service of mothering — making it a great Mother's Day gift (of course I would think so!).

Mama, Why Do You Work? (4.19.10)

What do you tell your 2-year-old when he cozies up to you as you slam away at your computer, and asks sweetly (eyes wide and longing): "Mama, why do you work?"

Let's first consider that the question might not come so sweetly, so cozily, or with mom at her computer. It could be mom heading out of town for a night or more, leaving for the office in the morning or an evening meeting, and it could involve said 2-year-old shrieking or crying. The context matters of course, shifting the order and intensity of thoughts that arise from such a question. But in many ways, the conversation is the same and the thoughts just as stirring. Here we stand, facing the question: Why do we work as moms?

So first, we pause and reflect thoughtfully. After all, we are cuddling now, toddler plopped on lap; we offer full presence. We sift through all the reasons, whatever our truths are, before we speak. It will be different for every mom.

Thought A: Because I have to — to support our family, to keep me sane, to prevent my mind from atrophy.

Thought B: Because I like to. I like the recognition, the adult time, my importance.

Thought C: Because I can. Working is a break from parenting. Parenting is hard, hard work, and working is hard too — but easier than all the not knowing what to do with you each and every moment of the day.

Other possibilities: I have this degree I've got to put to use. I am the creative type that must make art. I will not allow my mothering to take over my life. I actually hate working and I'd rather be with you.

If we went down any of these roads — it could start sounding like "I love you, but ..."

So what do we say? First, we acknowledge whatever does arise for us, something different perhaps than what I came up with. We may not even know exactly why we work. Maybe working is a habit we never even considered not having anymore. Who knows. Right now, we are talking to a person who was born two years ago, someone who is all feeling.

And we'll have feelings come up, too. So, we take a breath ...

Mama, why do you work?

Mom: You see me working (or leaving) and you are curious about what I am doing? (Inquiry with observation)

2-year-old: Yes. (Like, what else is there besides me in the world that you could possibly be attending to?)

M: Do you feel sad about it? Or angry? (Inquiry and validation)

2YO: Yes.

M: Do you miss me when I am working?(Inquiry and validation)

2YO: Yes.

M: Well, I miss you too. I like (need) to work, but I really like to be with you, too. (Validation and confirmation)

2YO: Yes.

M: Can we play together now (or in 5 minutes)? (Connection)

At 2, though not quite able to reason or receive explanations, our toddlers are observing our relationship to work. We are always modeling. These conversations are opportunities for validation and connection, to attune to them and really allow their feelings to arise, to validate those feelings and be with them. This emotional teaching will offer them the gift of empathy and self-empathy. Coupled with a strong sense that working can be a powerful way to contribute to the world, we are supporting healthy and well-rounded development in our little darlings. And that's why mama works.

A Day in the Life (4.12.10)

We've all been there. No one is dressed, or brushed or fed. You've entered the yellow zone, the time range before departure where it becomes uncertain whether you'll hit your target. You sigh. Or in my case, you run a little faster. Around and around and around our crowded, cozy house. Maxine and I run. I'm wearing a green boa to ensure my allergies get off to a good start. A fuchsia, sequined bow tie is clipped to my sweater, and a belly-dancing waist necklace clangs away. I am banging on a banjo, strumming till my fingers hurt, and when I start to thump it like a drum, I am reprimanded. This is a special kind of parade, you know.

How did I come to be in this morning parade, after many an explanation about getting ready first and then playing? Mama Guilt. Oh yes, I've been a distracted mama, preparing for a weekend conference, getting over a nasty cold, sneaking peaks at my new handheld, blazing with information. I am running around our house like my life depends on it because I want to play with my little girl, and I feel badly that I am always putting her off.

So, while rushing through the now reddest of the red zone, still unwashed and lunch half made, she says, "Mom!" in her new high volume way of speaking, "Mom! Remember you said I could walk Lily in the stroller to school?!"

"Oh ... Right! Well ... Um ..." Mom guilt takes the reins: "Right. Of course. OK." Now it makes sense, all the rewrapping of Patty onto her back, the perfecting of Lily in her stroller. I did say that. So, I'll be late getting started on my work. Nothing is more urgent than keeping my word.

We hit the road. It's past the time we leave even when she is not starting and stopping along the path to school. Her stroller is loaded with her school gear, while my stuffed computer bag strangles me. She walks along, unable to keep a pace that would get us there before snack time. I successfully coax her into the stroller. She is leaning forward, holding the handlebars to the child stroller, half sitting on her footrest. I get on the phone for a work call. I am rushing forward, leaning away from the heaviness of my workbag. We continue on our parade.

What Do You Miss Most? (4.5.10)

Someone recently asked me what I missed most from my pre-mom life, what I had to give up. After a long pause, I said, "Sleeping in." It's true, I really do miss sleeping in, unabashedly frolicking in bed until I can't bear it anymore. But that sounded so trite, so I added, "And I miss not having the subtle, psychic stress of being a parent." I realized I was trying too hard to answer this question and changed the subject.

But it stuck with me and while I was vacuuming this week — this is the time when I do all of my magical thinking — what I really, really, really miss most emerged out of the mist of my mama-mind. I miss being creative. I miss painting and staying up late to collage. I miss knocking around a few twigs and rocks, and building something useless but beautiful. I miss handcrafting invitations and thank-you cards, and exploring flowers with watercolor. 

I give a lot of attention to self-care practices as a mom. I exercise, drink water, keep my brows trimmed, sit quietly a few times a week on my mat, and have nourishing conversations with friends. What seems to get knocked silently to the edges of my life is playing creatively. Within the context of my current set of priorities, merely getting my work done and being a decent parent and wife are about all I can handle.

Now, to be fair, I have attended to this yearning through cutting up Maxine's art and making birthday cards, finger-painting side by side with her, and taking play dough to the next level. I even recently accepted an invitation from an artist friend to play at her art studio. Now that was fun — using feathers, ink and oil sticks on paper taped to a wall to make a mess with no outcome in mind. While I'm grateful for this, I am reminded of my yearning to make art and of how little time I make to make it.

So this week, I invite you to notice what is at your edges, what do you love to do that you haven't done for awhile, and with love and compassion, ask yourself: What do you miss most now that you're a mom? And, how could you have more of it?

The Rhythm Is Gonna Get You (3.29.10)

Working as a contractor has many benefits, namely flexibility. But the downside of being an independent consultant is that it is not always easy (or possible) to get into a rhythm. And rhythm is important. From Rudolf Steiner's perspective (the inspiration behind the Waldorf School philosophy), rhythm is the core flow to our development, as children and as adults. Like young ones who depend on knowing what is coming next, we too as moms like to know what to expect from our day, at least in part. When, for example, I get a call for a last-minute project and clear the week's plans to make room for the work, I am disrupting the rhythm I set for myself. I gain money and a sense of purpose that comes with working, but I lose the flow that helps me function well as a mom, wife, friend and house manager.

Today, whatever your work situation, consider what your rhythm is. Think of the habits that mark out your day, your week and month. Notice what is essential about those habits, what needs they fulfill, and perhaps even which ones you might be ready to let go. Track what happens when your flow — whatever it is — gets interrupted. This is wonderful information for you as a woman, as well as for your role as a mom in charge of your child's flow.

Take a Break and Sharpen the Saw (3.22.10)

During the last online month-long Yoga Odyssey I participated in with yoga teacher Barrett Lauck, she told us a story that comes from Franklyn Covey's work and is his 7th Habit of Highly Effective People. I love this story because it calls me out on my old tricks. Even now, I am sitting here writing, plowing through work and ignoring the fact that I need to use the bathroom and get a drink of water. I'll go do that while you read below:

A man was struggling in the woods to saw down a tree. An old farmer came by, watched for a while, then quietly said, "What are you doing?"

"Can't you see?" the man impatiently replied, "I'm sawing down this tree."

"You look exhausted," said the farmer. "How long have you been at it?"

"Over five hours, and I'm beat," replied the man. "This is hard work."

"That saw looks pretty dull," said the farmer. "Why don't you take a break for a few minutes and sharpen it? I'm sure it would go a lot faster."

"I don't have time to sharpen the saw," the man says emphatically. "I'm too busy sawing!"

Where does your saw need sharpening? Self-care for mom is usually the first to go in a busy or stressful time. What if you considered taking care of yourself as important as taking care of the house, the kids, your work, your parents, your husband? What happened for you when you even tried on that thought?

For me, I am good at taking care of myself in some ways and not in others, such as making sure I get on my yoga mat each day but won't take a break to stretch or move my body for hours when working. Or I won't be consistent, say with eating well and exercising, the two main ways we can keep ourselves healthy in body and in our minds. For these habits, it's best to do a little each day, rather than enter a binge and neglect cycle.

Today, start with the present. What is something you could do right now that sharpens your saw? It could be taking a deep breath, closing your eyes, or rubbing your shoulders or feet. It could even be as radical as getting up and away from your computer and handling some basic needs.

What nourishes you? After you've attended to yourself in this moment, consider implementing some new habit or way of being that will nurture you and support you taking time to yourself regularly, such as meditation, joining a club, having art dates, drinking 8-10 glasses of water each day, or having a deep conversation with someone you love. Send me your ideas and I will post them next week.

Permission to be Adequate (3.15.10)

This week, my child's daycare closed for a day of training. I therefore lost a third of my childcare and my biggest day for writing. In the spirit of sufficiency, the North of my compass, I will be transparent and admit that this week, I am aiming for adequate.

The etymology of the word 'adequate' is 'enough.' I always thought of adequate as not quite good enough — average. In this culture, average is invisible, not worth doing, bad even.

But what can a working mom do? She has her child all day, and the day is beautiful. It's fit for walking, for having breakfast with her grandfather, for playing in the park and literally 'running' errands on foot. It's a good day to hula-hoop and eat roasted chicken off the bone with our fingers. It's a good day to catch up on housework, vacuum the downstairs adequately (move around the toys, not under them). And all of this, we did.

Today, more than most days, I am present to the tension between working and being a mom. I feel some sadness. Sadness because on this pre-spring, gloriously sunny day, I had the background noise of anxiousness about what I wasn't doing; sad because our delicious day ended sitting next to each other in front of a video, her staring at the TV and me at my laptop.

I know that ultimately it's OK, not a big deal even. I grew up with a whole lot more TV, a whole lot more yelling, a whole lot more mom using the telephone, and a whole lot more errands. And my mom didn't work until I was 12. As I have previously declared (and will continue to stand by), all moms are working moms. Whether the work is paid or unpaid, dealing with the tension of your child's needs, your needs and the needs of countless others is — intense, to say the least. And while I wish I had a more sophisticated insight about these tensions, a deeper or better thing to say, in the spirit of sufficiency, this is enough for today.

This week, I challenge you to give yourself permission to be adequate, to practice letting go of your expectations, standards and assumptions about what is enough.

Would Someone Please Just Call Me Super Mom? (3.8.10)

I had this exact thought while stuffing the comforter into our duvet, after washing our sheets, vacuuming the downstairs, fulfilling my yoga practice and working several billable hours, all in the time frame of having sent my husband to the Museum of Science with our daughter for the morning. Beforehand, I reserved passes from our local library, made sure he had a backpack of snacks and relayed the best spots to hit. And I even put her down for her nap.

Want to hear more data from my Scorecard? OK, my pleasure. I make 95 percent of Maxine’s lunches, arrange 100 percent of her medical needs, 100 percent of her activities, 90 percent of the childcare, 90 percent of school drop-offs and pick-ups and 25 percent of her nighttime rituals. I do 50 percent of the dishes, 95 percent of the grocery shopping, 99 percent of the laundry, 99 percent of the regular cleaning, 100 percent of the thank-you cards, 99 percent of the social planning and 5 percent of the cooking. Plus, I make 10 percent of the income these days (on average).

I am beyond even-steven. I understand life is not fair. I have surrendered, except during my cycle, to domestic life with a child. All I’d like is a little appreciation. I thought this was a man’s thing, needing to feel appreciated. I don’t need it exaggerated. I don’t even really need it. I’d simply like it, to keep the resentment at bay. A once-a-day acknowledgment would do it. Twice a day would soften my skin and three times would get me in the sack.

However, since I cannot legislate what my partner says and does, and does not say or do, I vow to:

• Cease complaining about not getting acknowledged
• Ask for it if I really need it
• Let it go if I don’t
• Acknowledge myself
• Keep doing my best

Notice today what you might need in the way of acknowledgment. One way to search for this is noticing where you may be feeling some resentment or the beginning of it. While our expectations of our partners — or of anything or of anyone — can cause suffering, we can self-empathize, self-care and self-love. In order to do this, we need to shift our complaints to requests, let it go, turn to ourselves (or a friend) for what we need, and keep on being what we are that gives us appreciation for ourselves.

Hey Mama, What's Your Mindfulness Practice? (3.1.10)

We (working moms) need some time to quiet ourselves. Life is hectic in "the jungle of the juggle." We are balancing so many opposing needs all the time, responding in the moment to unpredictable events (ever had a sick child with a full day scheduled?) — all while planning for our family's future. Being quiet — or meditating — amongst the noise of family life is not typically something we think of as necessary to being a good or better mom. However, it really is like exercise, in the way that we should take a stand for our hearts to be healthy and our bodies (and minds) to feel good. Like exercise, meditation is proven to relax the mind, reduce tension and suppress the release of stress hormones that can cause illness. Plus, a cranky, stressed out mom, means a cranky, stressed out family.

What do you do to nurture a relaxed state of mind?

Hopefully your answer is: "All kinds of things!" If it's not, here's a practical guide to creating some necessary down time for a quiet mind, and wellbeing as a mom, wife and working woman.

1. Just sit. True relaxation is not necessarily happy hour or movie night (though those are certainly great ways to unwind!). What I am talking about here is meditation — allowing your mind to soften and rest back away from the inevitable thoughts and feelings that flow through us. Experiencing quiet in the mind is sometimes called the ground of being. From this place of quiet, solutions to a problem you had not recognized before become clear, possibilities open, and sometimes — in time — that wrinkle between your eyebrows becomes slightly less visible.

We allow this state to arise by creating the context for our minds to grow still and calm through stillness of the body, and so, we just sit. While we sit, we use our mind as a witness to simply notice our sensations, internally and externally. Sitting is the easiest, most well-known form of meditation; it keeps us from falling asleep on our backs or managing our routes if we are walking. Sitting is simple, especially if we ...

2. ... Make it easy. When trying to make time to do nothing, we are often confronted by all the things we have to do. Merely mentioning to the mind that it will become quiet activates it to remind us of all the lists, the promises and the obligations we have, and it will resist. If we are new to quieting the mind, we have to invoke a bit of discipline in setting up structure and an environment friendly to quieting. For us to move through the resistance, it is best to make it really, really easy to sit down.

Look around you right now. Where is a good place to sit quietly, eyes open and soft or closed? You want it to be a safe place, comfortable, warm, and supporting to any physical needs you might have.

Next, scan your daily schedule. What is a good time each day to set aside one to 10 minutes? You want it to be a time that comes easily, so you can sustain it over time. I am not a morning person, but if you naturally arise before your children, this could be a great time and is considered auspicious by many meditation teachers. I find quiet during my child's naptime. But because the family routine is ever-changing ...

... Consider this an experiment. That way, you can try different times and places out and gently discover the best time for you in your current situation.

3. Start out slow and short. The first time I attempted a practice of sitting quietly, the advice was to do it for one minute each day for a week, and to slowly build from there. I am embarrassed to admit that that first minute was excruciating. I sat at the end of my bed and folded my hands and, well, just sat. It was uncomfortable. It was new. Though redundant, this is another good time to remind you to be gentle and experimental. Like a new exercise routine or eating habit, starting a meditation practice has its ups and downs, ebbs and flows. Be kind when you skip a day and simply start afresh.

4. Use props. A timer is handy. Set it for the time you wish to sit (remembering less is more, especially at first), close your eyes and when it rings, get up. Simple! Lighting a candle or incense, ringing a bell or floating a flower are ways to create sacred space. These rituals invite the mood for meditation into your fast-paced day and say to the brain, slow down and listen.

5. Work with a teacher. I have found working with a meditation educator vastly helpful. In fact, it wasn't until I linked into the work of Karen Kyaha Abrams that I could really claim to have a strong meditation practice. There are many approaches to quieting the mind and developing a spiritual practice, and having someone to help navigate this terrain is an effective investment in our overall wellbeing as moms. While I had some success in sitting on and off over many years using the suggestions above, working with a teacher is what grounded me in a life practice.

6. Get a buddy. If finding (or I might say, attracting) a teacher is not desirable at this time, consider connecting with a friend and using each other for support. There was a time when my best friend and I would make phone dates. We'd call each other up, say hi, put the phone down, sit for 10 minutes, and then say good-bye and hang up. Having some amount of accountability, in the same way that a walking or gym buddy functions, can create some momentum — especially in the beginning.

The bottom line is to keep it simple and do it. Research shows that meditating regularly for shorter times is better than binge meditating (for long periods at a time) and then not meditating at all. Those short moments of quiet will — like a ringing bell — expand into the rest of your day and offer a sweet internal oasis in the middle of your crazy juggle jungle.

Confession of a Guilty Mom (#1) (2.22.10)

"Guilty Moms are a dime a dozen." My friend said it well, but I really had no idea of all the ways in which I was feeling guilty (one of the top "Weapons of Scarcity" I use on myself regularly), until I started looking at my life. Take the trip we are going on that involves a six-hour drive (one way). I am anxious for my 3-year-old to be in the car for that long. Though I was given lots of advice on how to entertain her, I was loathing the preparation: find a DVD player to borrow, collect some DVDs, go to Target's dollar area for cheap and new-to-her toys, make some puppets and other homemade activities. I had a deadline this week and wasn't willing to spend my downtime crafting. I didn't want to spend the money; didn't want to have TV in the car. I just didn't want to deal.

But two days before we left, with most options no longer viable, my folly began to dawn on me like milk slowly spoiling in the back of the fridge. Was I crazy? Six hours, no preparation? I don't have a lot of evidence for my child being difficult on long rides, but only because we don't take any. I knew that I had to do something and that something I did was Target.

I have a habit of pretending I am an anthropologist visiting a foreign culture when I engage in some pop cultural ritual that I am ambivalent about, such as watching CBS Monday night comedy shows or buying cheap products at big box stores. I realize that Target provides jobs here and abroad (sometimes uplifting women and their families out of abject poverty), but I am vastly ambivalent about the overall value of this business model. I know deep down that when I step in there for something I could buy for a couple of dollars more at a local hardware store or children's boutique, I am not aligned with my core values.

Why did I do it? I felt desperate. I felt afraid. I became worried that we would have a terrible drive without some new stuff to ward off Maxine's boredom. That we would be trapped in the car together, angry and fuming and late for where we needed to be. That my fire-breathing dragon mama would unleash her wrath in frustration and, in turn, ruin the trip. Mild hyperbole, but a LOT of scarcity running the show and a whole cultural conversation backstage.

I will admit that being in Target the night before Valentine's Day was rather festive. I felt I was participating in a modern American past time: the consumption of cheap goods. I understand this activity because it feels good. It's fun to find little treasures I can afford in the stacked bins, fill up my bag and walk out with the (perceived) security of a peaceful drive. It was easy and convenient. I was grateful for that.

A piece of me (where my actions trampled on my values) feels guilty, however. I felt a bit queasy in the store under the slight high of finding what I thought was protecting me. I felt a weird sense of pride combined with repulsion for my Americanism and the way I was expressing it. I've been left wondering, how does one be a mindful working mama? How do we stay aligned to our values, our ideals, when we feel depleted of time and creative energy, when the easier route is not only available but is celebrated by a society hungry to keep the economy humming?

One thing I know is that I have some work to do on trusting myself (I always have a choice not to lose my temper), trusting my child (she always has 10 fingers to count and shoes to take on and off), trusting my community (to ask for help) and going with the flow (so what if we arrive late?). Trust is an action of sufficiency. For now, I will stand in the inquiry of how rigorous I should really be about Target and its peers when it's a priority to flow my resources to local shops. And in the meantime, I will shake off the guilt.

Epilogue:

We are back from our trip. While the dollar clipboard was great for drawing, Maxine was mostly unimpressed with my other purchases. The stamps didn't work, the dry erase board fell apart, and so did the markers. What did I expect for a buck? The miracles came in ways I could never have controlled: her folding up my scarf to make a pillow for a long nap each way, rocking out to her CDs, eating snacks and playing with toys I brought from home. When it comes to scarcity, FDR has it right: "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."

Can We Have It All? (2.15.10)

This week, I discovered that I am in a committed relationship with my work. I had canceled a social date for the third time, and was emailing things like: “I need to pause on making plans until I catch up on my rest (I mean work), yes, my rest…” That’s when it hit me. Then it really became obvious when I realized how behind I am on watching “Project Runway.” It’s been a slow transition (one bathroom necessity at a time), but here I am, all moved into — not my new boyfriend’s house — but my desk.

Felicity Huffman, well-known actress and mother of two, once caused Leslie Stahl’s eyebrows to lift in a “60 Minutes” interview when she was asked if mothering was the best experience of her life. Her response: “No, no, and I resent that question.” Quite the bold statement for a woman to make on primetime television. When I watched this story three years ago (having just miscarried), I nearly leapt off my couch with passionate recognition of the truth: A mother gives a taboo — though honest — answer to a population dominated by images and ideals of motherhood being wholly satisfying, never mind the fairytale story floating around — it’s beautiful, easy, joyful and natural.

In reality, moms — women — also enjoy birthing and raising movements, businesses, projects and art. “Duh,” you say. But heed what Nina Utne, mother of two and editor of the progressive and illuminating Utne Reader, told a friend of mine at a woman’s leadership roundtable event: “We can’t have it all. It’s impossible.”

Are working moms disillusioned? Am I? Can I actually meet all of the expectations in all areas of my life? Can I keep my family well nourished on home-cooked food? Can I raise well-adjusted child(ren) who will be prepared for adulthood when it’s time? Can I have an amazing sex life and connection with my partner? How about a career that forwards my deepest ideals? And the well-tended friendships I cherish? My aging parents well-cared for? The rest, the recreation, the restoration of nothingness, and deep practice that my mind and body need?

I have no idea. I am only just now committing to my work in a significant way, taking it to the next level. Let’s say I am betrothed to my work and also want to grow my family of three to four. Is that too much to ask? I think the answers have something to do with the help we have around us: supportive partners and grandparents, or lots and lots of financial resources. In a very critical way, this is a socioeconomic inquiry, which is not lost of me.

Felicity Huffman wasn’t sure she was a good mother. We all have insecurities, and working and having a career outside of parenting has nothing to do with that. Nina Utne was clear that we can’t have it all, at the same time. We need to make choices and live life in stages. I hear the wisdom in this, but I already know that I will try otherwise.

You Know You Are a Working Mom When … (2.8.10)

Back when I was a new mom — which meant I was exhausted and drained — I would drive by my own street when headed home. My friend, a new mom herself, and I began the running joke: “You know you are a new mom when … you drive by your own street on the way home.” Another day, another voicemail: “You know you are a new mom when … you leave the house without an extra set of clothes and your baby has a poop blow-out up the back — at the beginning of your much-needed, long-awaited hair appointment.”

Because it was so much fun (and relieving) to go back and forth with my friend, I decided to revive this game. Because it takes a village, and every working mom has her own unique experience, schedule, arrangement, and relationship with her family, I went to my awesome community of moms and asked for their help.

The request? Finish this sentence: “You know you are a working mom when …”

I must have struck a nerve, because for two days, more than 40 moms replied. It turns out we are all having very similar experiences (go figure!).

What do we share? Work is more of a vacation than family or school vacation. A medical or waxing appointment is a coveted opportunity for rest and reflection. Embarrassing moments occur when uncovering what lies at the bottom of your purse. No more sick days. Many a standards have been, and will be, broken.

You know you are a working mom when…

You are an inspiration to your kids:

• ... You come downstairs dressed for an important meeting and your kids say: “Oh Mommy, you look so nice! I didn’t know you had THOSE clothes.”
• ... Your 2-year-old throws a bag over her shoulder and declares “Mommy's work bag!” as she heads for the door.
• ... You can master any obstacle course in heels.
• ... You're child refuses to do what she's told and offers as her excuse, "I just have to send one more email." (On the play computer, of course.)

You are an inspiration to your workmates:

• ... You enjoy making your male colleagues squirm when you tell them about “that bag you always carry around but don’t open.” (The pump.)
• ... You reach into your suit pocket at a meeting and pull out a pair of Dora the Explorer underpants.

The line between working and mothering is thin:

• ... You clean your desk and it involves scraping off play dough.
• ... You find yourself humming "The Wheels on the Bus" alone in your car.
• ... In selecting a pediatric dentist, you factor in that one has WiFi and massage chairs while the other has a good toy selection in the waiting area.
• ... A missed nap is half a workday lost.

Work is considered a break:

• ... Going back to work after a vacation is MORE of a vacation.
• ... There's no such thing as a sick day. Ever. No matter how crummy you feel.
• ... Your kids are sleeping, you’re drinking a cup of coffee while working, and it feels like the best vacation ever.

You are resourceful:

• ... You zip your kids into a tent so you can check email.
• ... You finish your makeup in the rearview mirror.
• ... You sneak a cookie with you to the computer, and hope the kid napping on the couch behind you is really asleep.
• ... You hide in the shower to talk to your boss because it’s the only place your 5-year-old won’t find you and ask you to turn on the Wii for the 90th time that afternoon.

You have no choice but to get help:

• ... Peapod (grocery delivery service) is your new best friend.
• ... You’re willing to pay your nanny that extra half hour of time in the morning so you can shower alone.
• ... The happiest moment of the week is coming home after the cleaning professionals have visited.

You take multi-tasking to a new level:

• ... You pump breast milk while driving to work. (Mom Tip: This requires a healthy supply of AAA batteries!)
• ... You are that mom on her cell phone at the bus stop.
• ... You strap on the baby for a nap, hop on the elliptical, and catch up on some work reading.
• ... You simultaneously: listen to an after-hours conference call (speaker phone on mute), bake brownies with your 2-year-old and cook dinner.
• ... Your daughter takes her first steps on your “day off,” in your office, while you’re on a conference call.
• ... You have your older kids do their homework in the car while dropping off the younger ones at daycare.

You get creative about time:

• ... You answer all your emails and do half your day’s work after 10 p.m.
• ... Your best working hours are from 5 a.m. to 7 a.m.
• ... You don't have the time, patience or energy to listen to any voicemail message longer than 30 seconds.
• ... You stay out late just to give your babysitter a minimum amount of hours, even if you’re falling asleep at the bookstore.

You are protective of your “you” time, however you get it:

• ... You ask the receptionist in the doctor's office to skip over you while you read a magazine.
• ... You are glad for your bellybutton hernia operation (a result of pregnancy). So glad you say to the anesthesiologist: "I'm so excited for the nap!”
• ... You feel grateful to attend a funeral because you get to sit quietly in church for two hours.
• ... Sitting in the dentist chair is the most peace you’ve had all day.
• ... Waxing feels like a good time to close your eyes and relax.
• ... Going to the grocery store alone feels like a nourishing “me” date.
• ... Driving to work is nirvana.
• ... You're looking forward to the labor and delivery of your second baby — as a way to get two full nights worth of sleep in the hospital, plus meals delivered.

Sex is elusive:

• ... Your husband sees you wearing sexy underwear and comments that it must be laundry day.
• ... Your “up all night” experience no longer refers to a really crazy, sexy experience, but a long night of keeping a fever down, finding a special blankie in the dark, or cleaning up pee.
• ... Any sex is good sex.
• ... Your perfect “date night” involves snuggling with your partner... for eight hours of uninterrupted sleep!
• ... You spend “date night” waxing your legs in front of a “Sex and the City” rerun.
• ... You get excited to take yourself on an online date to buy new clothes at 11 p.m. while sitting at your desk.
• ... You have boxes of clothes to return in your basement from your late-night online shopping dates.

You let go of standards:

• ... Cheese and crackers seems like a perfectly well-balanced meal for the family.
• ... You take an a.m. conference call in your old maternity sweats (because, shoot, they are so darn comfy!), your shirt is covered in your 2-year-old's snot (because he prefers your shoulder to a tissue), a shower is on the to-do list (you can always wear a ponytail again, right?), and your trusty breast pump is fired up and ready to go as soon as you get off the phone!
• ... You have a deadline to meet and wished your 9-month-old liked to watch TV.
• ... “Dry Clean Only” garments are banned from your house.
• ... You're bribing your 2-year-old with french fries, in order to get her to eat some protein: deep-fried, previously frozen chicken nuggets. Then you offer her an alternative of pizza.

You let go of your life before children:

• ... Crawling into bed at 7:30 on a Saturday night seems perfectly reasonable.
• ... You find your child's half-eaten granola bar in your coat pocket.
• ... You fiddle with your baby’s binky you walked out of the house with while having a serious work conversation.
• ... Poop in the bathtub is the least of your problems. (Mom aside: “Seriously, that was my day today.”)
• ... “School break” no longer means “vacation.”

You are grateful for what you do have:

• ... The priceless artwork in your office consists of handprints and stick figures.
• ... You consider 7:30 to be "sleeping in" on a Sunday.
• ... You reach into your bag for your wallet and pull out a snack-trap filled with cheerios instead.

You are prepared:

• ... You tote a bag with your work computer in the car at all times, in case of spontaneous naps hopeful for some productivity.
• ... You work on this article at Whole Foods between grocery shopping and teaching a yoga class, without even taking your jacket off.

You know you are a working mom when you can laugh at yourself. What a gift to receive all these contributions and to share in the humor (sometimes dark) of juggling the many hats we wear as moms. I deeply appreciate those who contributed their working mom moments and would love to hear from you, too! Tell me about it: shea@sevenstonesleadership.com.

Enough of This! Parenting from Scarcity (2.1.10)

How often do you say (out loud or in your head):

• “I wish the day was four hours longer?"
• "I wish I had more time for myself."
• “I wish my child didn’t ask so many questions, or wasn’t so loud/demanding?”
• “I wish my child wouldn’t do that, be different, or more like that other kid?”

Parenting can be frustrating, especially in the realm of time, and especially when you are juggling a workload.

This week as I practiced yoga, I listened to my mind chattering away about all the work I had to do. I thought, “If only I could replicate myself.” My 'scarcity radar' picked it up, and gently moved my mind forward, but another thought rolled in: “If only I could extend the day a bit.” Radar engaged again, and my attention backed away from the thought, but then, quickly, another one: “This parenting job takes up so much time.”

Enough! I asked myself: “Why is it I feel the need to be so productive? What is that compulsion? What will happen if I don’t complete everything on my list?” From that inquiry, and probably the power of being in a challenging yoga pose, I softened into the opening of what is. The present moment, the crystal clear knowing that I was enough right now, and always was and always will be, no matter what I check off my list. This was a moment of grace — and I was grateful for it — because I have an infinite trough of scarcity stories — about time, money, food, sex, love, sleep, resources, knowledge, time. Time is the big one for me. There’s never enough, it seems.

What is it for you?

Take a moment to evaluate. Notice what occurs in your relationships and through the varying domains in your life. Where do you hear the words “never enough” in your relationship to:

• Your body (health, fitness, food)?
• Your self (realm of being, thinking, feeling, behaviors)?
• Money?
• Time?
• Sex?
• Relationships (parenting, intimacy, friends, family of origin)?
• Contribution/purpose?
• Work/career/job?
• Spirituality (religion, nature, God, higher power, mindfulness practices)?
• Recreation (leisure, creativity, hobbies)?

How you relate to these domains in your life will effect how you parent.

Distracted over work? Feeling deficient in your marriage? Angry that grandma doesn't abide by your requests? Our children can sense what’s happening in our worlds and our feelings. Unless we become deeply aware of them and conscious of their flow, they will indeed influence our behavior. Evaluate which domains you feel are sufficient, which are lacking, where the complaints lie and where there are celebrations. Now, consider the story you have about your kid(s)? And separately, how do you feel about yourself as a parent?

Are you enough as you are? Tell me about it: shea@sevenstonesleadership.com.

All Moms Are Working Moms (1.25.10)

I knew this to be true before I saw the bumper sticker, but I sure liked seeing it in black and white on a moving minivan, being driven by a dad no less. Now, having been on both sides of the “Mommy War,” it is absolutely clear to me that all moms work, whether they get paid in currency or not. It’s too complex to ever know what arrangement (of many possibilities) is more challenging or more rewarding. Which is harder? Finding good childcare and dealing with preparing lunches, dropping off,  picking up on time, making sure an extra set of clothes is available, dealing with sick days, transitioning from office to home, plus the complex emotionality — the grief, guilt and ambivalence — to attend to about not being with your child(ren) all day long and feeling like you can’t do anything well, or being “on” with your child all day, being tugged at, demanded upon, coming up with fun activities to entertain and educate that also appeal to your sensitivities, so you are both stimulated and not terribly bored, plus dealing with all of the complex emotionality — the grief, guilt and ambivalence — to attend to about not building a career and expressing all of that intelligence and passion that you have for ideas outside of mothering?
 
Who’s to say? We each are, for ourselves. Putting down the scorecard, I know that being a mom is laborious, no matter if you have one or three, nanny or no nanny, paid work outside the home or unpaid work inside the home. The emotions are the same. The tensions are all real. We can indeed relate to each other. If that bumper sticker had actually said "Go Cougars!" I might have started to think the same thoughts. Don’t many of us moms feel like we have to be a sexy cougar in bed, a witty cougar at the office, a wise cougar to her friend, a patient cougar with grandma, a creative cougar to get her pups to brush their teeth, get dressed, buckle up, wash up for dinner, or to do just about anything? We need each other, to talk about these things, to share what works and what doesn't.
 
Work It, Mama! will be a place to come for inspiration as a working mama. It will be chock full of tools, techniques, ideas, reflections, interviews and concrete practices to support your personhood — your whole and sufficient self – as you do the seemingly impossible job of being a working mom. We'll do it in community, appreciating each other's choices, and supporting each other's aspirations. Welcome!