My mom and I had a conversation, the other day, about thankfulness. This stemmed from an article she’d read or something she’d heard a speaker say about being thankful. It actually started because my mom, Grandmother to 6 girls, is constantly getting asked if she’s their mama because she looks pretty young and is in great shape. She loves this, of course. But recently (and inconveniently for me, coming one week prior to birth of #4 when she was supposed to take 1, 2, and 3 away for a week) she had a minor health issue–minor, in that it was in no way life threatening but major for her because it knocked her down for a week or so, into her bed, to do nothing but rest. This pissed her off immensely first, because she wanted to see her grandchildren and secondly, because she does not want to be reminded of her own potential weaknesses.

She’s better now. She came up for a visit and we were talking about another health thing and I reminded her that many, many people are dealing with big-time health issues. So our little ones are nothing. And then came this discussion–when she remembered the speaker talking about going around the room asking folks what they were thankful for…good health. Family. The usual. And then one guy said “My reading lamp”. The speaker (I think it might have been a priest) said What? That’s crazy. Then started thinking about it. This humble fellow was happy just to have the perfect amount of light to read a book each evening, to settle down and relax. And the speaker/priest thought why NOT be thankful for little things?

I remember hearing about how Oprah was encouraging everyone to write down 5 good things each day. I tried this in an effort to improve my own at the time poor attitude (I was in college I think, or grad school, and over it) and within about a month was sick of the process, sick of thankfulness, sick of commenting on little things. BUT. I still think there is merit in once in a while (not every day listing five things, but ONCE in a while) taking stock and of course, being thankful for your healthy (if loud and messy) children. Your house (even if breaking and messy). Your husband (even if he is messy. Which he is).

And then being thankful for little things. Like, red wine. I’m thankful for that like you wouldn’t believe. I love being able to sit at night and drink a glass of wine and chill out. And even though there’s some things I miss about being pregnant (not in a weird hippy-dippy-have-19-children way, more in a “I’m never going to be pregnant again and there were some good things” way) I don’t miss not being able to sit and have a glass of wine. I have some co-believers here, I’m sure.

I’m thankful that it’s fall, and I can wear my sweaters and be cozy. I’m thankful that it’s fall, and I can watch tv in all its new-season, good and stinky, glory. By that I mean I am thankful for shows like the Biggest Loser and Cougar Town that make me tune out and laugh, respectively. I’m thankful that my favorite author who usually writes one book a year is writing two, this year, and his second is coming out soon. And I’ll sit and relax and dive right in and probably finish it in a day.

Of course I’m thankful for the hugs of my children. But I’m equally thankful for their silly drawings (little things) and for going down to the basement and finding nametags for their dolls written in “kid”–”Pinky Pie” was ‘Pk ky p’, carefully written out in kid capitals. I’m thankful that my “big girl” has finally fallen asleep each night and different, thankful, for her as I look at how she’s put washcloths for blankets on each of the new baby’s dolls (when she was supposed to be sleeping).

So I’m trying to work on the little thank yous, to keep hold of my sanity and keep my mood bright. What are some of your little thankfuls?

That is the thought that occurred to me yesterday at 5pm after a day that was truly eye-opening. As in, everyone always tells me I do too much. See “hospital bliss” to know when I actually shut down–answer, when giving birth. But yesterday I realized that not only was my life completely mad, but that I was the CONDUCTOR of the crazy train–in that I’d brought it all on myself.

It begins with the fact that as a consultant I can never say no. I always worry when the next thing will come along. I think that is endemic to consulting, and as such I took on not one but TWO extra assignments this week on top of my ongoing on top of my baby on top of my conference and so the list goes on. So then I’m trying to figure out when I can write about the state of the economy (answer: with the baby in the Baby Bjorn on my chest) and when I can address key topics facing mothers and money, for a presentation (answer: see above) and I’m blabbering on conference calls with the baby chiming in here and there why? Because she’s in the Baby Bjorn.

This is because, contrary to the experts oft-expressed opinions that you can’t spoil a baby, I’ve gone and done it. She’s seven weeks today and WILL NOT sleep anywhere except somehow touching my person. She’s initiated a feud with her daddy after a few late nights of cuddle time in front of Mad Men and Jersey Shore–when she was summarily handed over so I could get a little sleep, since I can’t keep up with Mad Men and Jersey Shore falls below even my very, very, very low standards of acceptable tv. But now not even he is good enough and so he, in turn, is miffed at her and I feel this battle of the wills may linger for some time. Especially because they can’t talk it out.

So, the other night, I figured I could watch the Biggest Loser (see above, low standards of television acceptable-ness) which only requires 10% concentration at most, and work on my presentation. And the baby refused to chill with daddy. So I had her and typed. And then madly, the next morning, worked on the presentation. Until I got a call that another kid was sick at school, not puking, but also not bus-worthy. I resignedly told the school secretary that I’d be there since I didn’t want my sweet girl to be “the kid that puked on the bus” (to which the secretary agreed–I mean, she’s in kindergarten, so that’s a long school career to live down that rep). Pick up, back to work, migraine hits. This is because I do too much, I thought to myself. But where do I say no? And this is all going to calm down soon.

At which point, it was time to make dinner and settle down for my 30 minutes of sweet bliss a day–a glass of wine, flavor-blasted goldfish, and watching the news. Changed the baby’s diaper in preparation only to find for perhaps the BILLIONTH time (at least it seems like it) that she’d covered herself in her own poo, seemingly leaving her diaper untouched. What the heck? I NEVER remember my other babies having these issues! And the baby and I, both covered in baby poo, looked at each other as the others wanted dinner (yelling out 3 separate and distinct requests and attempting to pour their own juice with the expected spillage results), the business phone rang in the background, and my husband walked in but declined to become involved–in part due to nice clothes and in part due to previously mentioned tiff. And I thought to myself “It’s bad, all right, when even I am admitting I’ve gone too far and taken on too much”.

I know I’m only happy when it’s crazy. In fact I got a migraine last week from NOT having enough to do. But I still have to laugh to myself each time someone asks me about balance because mine is balancing dirty diapers in one hand with juice-filled sponges in the other. There’s no lesson in this blog post. Just an admission: I’m Meghan, and I think I’m ready to admit I’m a little crazy. Is that the first step towards getting better?

I’m not talking about Disneyworld. I’m not talking about Willy Wonka. No, after my recent giving-birth experience I am talking about a wonderful place called the hospital. And I know that I’m not alone.

My experience didn’t actually start ideally if you considered the “start” dreading the 5 am wake-up that I had to make to get to the hospital for my 7:30 operation. I had a bad day that last day – that is a whole ‘nother blog entry…but resolved to go to bed early to get my last good night of sleep prior to new baby. And, the phone rang at 10:40 pm. Who would be calling me so late? Why, it was the hospital. Calling to say…we wanted to remind you of your C-section tomorrow at 7:30.

THANK YOU! Thank you for reminding me. Gosh darn it, I was sitting out here at 10:40 at night on my front porch, drinking a 40 of malt liquor, contemplating my giant belly and wondering about next steps – THANK GOODNESS you reminded me I had to be at the hospital tomorrow am as it totally slipped my mind. Since you’ve called me at 10:40, assuming I’d forgotten, I now have plenty of time to arrange childcare for my kids.

So after that auspicious start, I headed in, in the AM – having gotten no sleep (but of course I had childcare, though that had been a bit dicey for the week prior – our back up plan for if the baby came early was “Hopefully the baby won’t come early”). The operation was what it was, gorgeous baby born healthy, came out with her fist in the air in true Jersey-girl style…but then the nice part of the hospital began.

Here, in no particular order, is what is awesome about the hospital.

1. I couldn’t do ANYTHING. I mean, for the first day, I literally couldn’t do anything due to horrid, horrid nausea…but after that, I wasn’t allowed to do anything for 5 days but lie in my bed, read, watch tv, hold my baby, and get scolded not to do anything. I checked my I-phone for email but knew that doing work would only open a dark door of having clients expect me to work ON the operating table so I just tuned it all out in a way that I normally cannot, even if I tell myself to, even if I’m on vacation. One day, when the kids were out and about, my husband came and we watched a dumb movie in the afternoon, holding the baby, and it was quiet and no one was yelling at us to do this or that and I didn’t feel that I needed to multi-task as I do at home. Just sat around and watched George Clooney.

2. My children were in good hands. They came to visit, they hugged me, they asked for cookies. I gave them cookies because hey, I was in the hospital, why fight about cookies? So it was all EASY. I didn’t have to make up rules or enforce rules or find things for them to do. I gave them hugs and cookies. And they were watched by their grandparents while I lay around, holding the baby, doing nothing.

3. I could hold my baby, hug my baby, and then if I wanted to sleep a, the baby was usually asleep or b, I could call a WELL TRAINED nurse and say take my baby to the nursery. And then I could lie around and do nothing.

4. Everyone cared about ME. They asked how I was doing and cared about the answer – unlike at home where nominally, people care about me in that if I wasn’t there they’d arguably have to cook, clean, etc for themselves (the “etc” is EVERY SINGLE THING) but at the hospital it was about me.

5. Food was given to me. It wasn’t awesome, but I didn’t have to think about it or plan 4 additional meals for everyone else in my family. The last night, our hospital even did this awesome dinner for us – again, not delicious, but super thoughtful.

So I was in pretty bad pain, wearing a horrid gown, getting checked every few hours for blood pressure, temperature, etc – and I still, no joke, think it was better than my vacation to the beach. There’s the happy glow of anticipation of this new baby; there’s the drugs, of course. But I still can’t precisely put my finger on how I can replicate this experience other than having another baby which my husband has assured me is NOT happening.

Why can’t I just turn it all off at home for a day to replicate this? Guilt. Why can’t I relax on vacation and just enjoy that? Responsibilities to clients and kids chasing me around. All I’m saying is that I’m glad I had 5 sweet days at Overlook, and my next business venture may be to launch a hospital-type day spa for moms…responsible caregivers, a place to escape where you are NOT ALLOWED TO WORK…operations not necessary.

My recent crazy life has prompted me to consider what shortcuts are acceptable and what will drive me to turning into the crazy looking lady on the street who will definitely own 100 cats one day.

Case in point: Do I have to wash all my clothes every time I wear them has turned into how dirty do the kids clothes need to be before THEY get washed? And that degenerated into if it’s her favorite nightie, and she fights when it goes in the wash, and she doesn’t actually play in the mud or sweat in it, why must a 5 year old’s fancy nancy sweetness get washed any more than once a week (or month). No, seriously, I do wash it more than once a month. But not her sheets. They’re on a top bunk, impossible to make–and really, she doesn’t sweat at night.

Ok, next shortcut–which I have to be honest is NOT just me–showers. I remember reading, prior to having kids, notes from folks with a new baby saying they didn’t even have time to shower. PREPOSTEROUS. Right, but now I’m in the position of thinking that possibly a shower isn’t necessary EVERY single day. Right? I don’t sweat that much. I saw an interview with Bianca Jaegger (or someone) who said she washed her hair once a month. GROSS. I am far, far better than that.

But really it’s the hair washing, and the drying, etc etc that are the shower issue. Shower is 5 minutes and could, really, be 2. But then the subsequent hair drying, and makeup-putting-onning…well, when the baby’s yelling and the snacks need packaging and the bus needs catching…all seems a bit overwhelming. And then the shortcuts lead down a dangerous path. The path of sweatpants, no makeup, looking like a hag and feeling even worse.

I’m not saying I have to be pageant worthy every day. But I feel like the day I don’t put on mascara, will lead quickly to the day I’m one step away from Jerry Springer’s audience. My aunt once told me never to lead the house without lipstick – I feel like I’m at least giving it the old college try by slapping on some Burt’s Bees balm with color in it. A little care goes a long way.

So, shortcuts. It’s tough to draw the line. Sometimes it’s best to see the problems illustrated by someone else. As in my husband. Who didn’t shower one day and compensated by an extra spray of cologne. For GOD’s sake…he claims one spray, I’m unconvinced – because the facts are these. He was holding the baby. He left the house, handing over the baby – whose sweet little hormone-free self sucks in all smells. The baby smelled like a cross between The Situation (Jersey Shore) and a bar (also at the Jersey Shore) and I quickly determined that should our shortcuts lead us to a place where our sweet baby became one with the scourge of the planet…it was time to pull it all together.

Shortcuts. Watch out. They can lead to your ruin.

Infrequent blog readers may have been confused by the long absence and time between posts–loyal blog readers (my mom) know that I’ve been a bit extra-busy these days because we have a new baby at our house. So our normal level of insanity has been heightened – I am balancing now the three “big girls” with an infant who turns 4 weeks old tomorrow.

I’ve been coasting along the surface of trying to get everything done WHILE getting kids happily to school not dressed like ragamuffins and/or weirdos (only partially successful today as one kid was wearing some dress-up hat and another had toothpaste in her hair that I licked my fingers and tried to rub out as she ran towards the bus). I’m also balancing everyone telling me to take it easy AND feeding the baby at night – her preferred time for eating, nonstop – and, meanwhile, my husband’s at work and also claiming exhaustion. Because he’s up helping with the baby. No WAIT. That’s not why, it’s because he’s actively and efficiently drafting and monitoring at all times 4, count them, fantasy teams.

Aside: I got an article the other day about how folks can be hooked on electronics. Husband, on computer all day with Droid by side, typically comes home from work (driving his car with satellite radio and every conceivable sound upgrade) and gets right on my laptop WHILE tv watching AND Droid-ing. I said, that article is about you. He said, I am not addicted to electronics. I grabbed the baby and said, LIGHTENING IS GOING TO STRIKE YOU. His denial was based on the fact that he had gone outside. Once. That day.

Anyway, let’s talk fantasy teams. I need someone to figure out what to make for dinner at my house. I am flat out of ideas, my kids are happy to eat dino-shaped nuggets every day, I don’t think it’s good for them but more importantly fear that is what I’ll be serving at their weddings (by the way, new baby? Girl. We’ll be paying for FOUR weddings. Dino chicken might be the way to go). Totally sick of coming up with compelling meals; consider it a giant victory when a fruit OR veggie is ingested by any of the eaters. So, need a chef of some sort – but they have to creatively cater to picky appetites and 5 people who eat entirely different menus with no common ground. Fantasy player one.

I need someone who can clean my house. I got a cleaning lady at my mother and husband’s behest when I was pregnant and could no longer bend down to pick up the myriad of crap thrown all over, with wanton abandon, and which no one, NO ONE, but me saw. I got someone, who’s marginally ok. I mean, I think my bathrooms are a little cleaner. But she doesn’t do a deep clean and by that I mean, wipe the floor of juice and stuff. So she leaves and I look around and there’s cobwebs, sticky fingers, stained chairs etc. The other day, I paid one of the 5 year old twins (only fifty cents) to just wipe stuff while I sat on the couch and bossed her on what to wipe. This was a good solution EXCEPT now they all say “Will you pay me?” upon being asked to do anything more than simply breathe. It’s like they’ve unionized and are completely blind to the fine surroundings (juice stained as they may be) and meals (chicken dino) the management is providing. So put that on the fantasy team.

I need someone to pick up and drop off, obviously. I want to “be there” for my kids, but I am sick of the driving around. Maybe if I had a chauffeur, I could multi-task and work while being there. Add that one.

Need someone to do half my work (but not take half my pay–negligible, at best). There’s a lot of things I like in my work: examples…I’m running a meeting in California and went on a site visit which included visiting a number of wineries. I’m fine with that. I actually don’t mind some of the “boring parts” like updating spreadsheets. Copy, paste, spreadsheet done, task checked off, feeling of accomplishment. I dislike all the ongoing pieces, the constant open-ended, and the researching clients. Would like, therefore, on my fantasy team someone who can do the cr*p. My friend told me today that when her babysitter was over (who happens to be her cousin) and the baby was asleep, she had the babysitter photocopy. She felt bad, but someone had to do it. Again, I’m venturing to guess the babysitter/cousin still had that satisfying feeling of accomplishment!

Actually, what I could use is someone to type. I could get a lot more done if I wasn’t forced to do it all with one hand, while the other holds the baby who loves to cuddle and finds her chair, swing, exercise mat and all other such items “hate-able” in the words of her older sister. I have been sending all e-mails without regard for capitalization since I can’t shift and type with one hand so if I had a typer, on call, I could run around merrily dictating all my work, to-do’s, blogs, etc. Add Typist who works for FREE to the fantasy team.

Need a grocery store shopper. I know, there’s Peapod and other delivery services. First of all I never have my act together early enough to think of needing groceries one day ahead. And it’s too hard to surf through the internet. No, far far more efficient is daily, sometimes TWICE daily, trips to the store to get orange juice (do your kids drink an orchard a day? HOW can that much orange juice go into a 35 pound person??) And when I get the juice home guess what, someone finished the milk (how? They barely drink it when I’m around). We seem to be constantly out of flavor blasted goldfish (confession: my fault. I am currently obsessed with flavor blasted goldfish). There’s nowhere to put the food but no food in the house to eat. Except Dino chicken. Bought in bulk.

Hoping for a gardner. Wouldn’t mind someone pitching in to maintain some of the relationships I don’t have time for, but would like to come back to. The list goes on and on. Every mother has a fantasy team they are longing for, no doubt.

As it is, I’m continuing to keep balls in the air only by writing down each and everything I have to do inclusive of “Wake Up” so I can proudly check off something each day that is accomplished. I’m multi-tasking away (conference calling and nursing – think twice before you dial me up!) And I keep thinking “If I can only complete this to do list today tomorrow will be easier”. I try not to look at the list for the next day! Why is it that I’m only happy in the crazy?

I pride myself on being fairly successful in many of my endeavors – doing some consulting, running Detours&OnRamps, even staying in shape, keeping my house together, etc. And of late I have been brought down by one very skinny, often cute, almost always squirrelly just-about-5-year-old.

For the purposes of this blog I will call her by her nickname, Roo, given to her at age 1 week because she wanted to be in my pocket all the time, even so young. The Roo is a super-thoughtful child, a “deep thinker”. She plays really, really well by herself. She makes up cute little games; she loves things smaller than herself…babies, animals, and the like, and shows a huge degree of caring for them. When given the “appropriate” amount of attention (meaning, 100% all the time) she is a perfect child.

OH! Also, she has to be fed constantly. She basically has negative body fat and a metabolism that is the envy of any dieter, so like a gremlin,  she needs to be fed every hour or so or else dire consequences result. So I walk around with Special K bars in my purse and random snacks leaking out of pockets.

Anyway, this child, when properly fed, would be just perfect if she was an only child. However, she’s not. She’s one of three, soon to be four, and is a TWIN no less. Thus, the chaos ensues. And it’s been getting worse, and worse!

How, I think, can one four year old bring down an entire working house? It is possible. The meltdowns are insane and began occurring with greater and greater frequency. One sister (the twin) would bend over backwards to do whatever she needed, to the point of ridiculousness. The other (the big sister) went out of her way to push buttons. My husband, with a zero tolerance policy, would put her in time out for 30 minutes, 45 minutes at a time. We all waited for not IF the next meltdown would occur, but just when would it – what would set her off? Someone looking at her funny? Someone mentioning her name when teasing someone else? Her twin waking up in the morning and not waking HER up – or, the very next day, her twin waking up in the morning and waking her up. She was unpredictable in cause but always predictably able to blow up at any given moment.

I found myself exhausted and bordering on full depression. It was literally like walking around on eggshells, constantly bending over backwards to try to make her smooth out or not scream. And everything started to spiral. I was so exhausted I could barely keep up with my work and even worse, could barely keep up with my summer reading (trash books) and summer shows (equally trashy).

So I started working on my own plan, that wasn’t extended timeouts (that didn’t work) or star charts. I was encouraged that in moments of lucidity – ie, not in the midst of a breakdown – the Roo would spout out things that I’d said…”Mommy, that isn’t worth crying about, it’s not the end of the world”. “Mommy, [big sister] should know that when we tease her it’s because we love her”. I knew she was listening, at least. I started trying to just calm her down before full-blown freak happened. And, I got her two coloring books that were hers alone, and her own markers, for quiet time. (IE, the “magical place” where she could be an only child). The second she started getting into it with her sisters or anyone, I pulled her aside without her being in trouble and got her coloring. That time on her own really started to help.

Ok, so two weeks of this, still fairly exhausted. Still walking on eggshells. But we’re at her birthday party bbq with lots of people and she came up to me, on her own, and said “I think next time I should bring my coloring book for quiet time”. She recognized she needed it – before a breakdown. So I just held her hand and she stayed with me for a bit and got away from all the people. And was much better.

I felt like it was such a giant step forward. Go through another week, and I realized there were entire days that she didn’t have any freakouts. That one day when she did, and I scolded her, she actually CARED that I scolded her and pulled it together instead of just screaming for an hour till I gave in.

So here I am, having been moderately successful at professional things – feeling cautiously optimistic about this little Roo finally not being the straw that brings this family down. My uncle, a child psychologist, gave me a book about stopping meltdowns, and I started reading it, and I am finding that many of the things I am doing are what the “pro” says to do – that makes me feel good about my instincts. It is crazy to me the impact one small child can have on everyone. And how I can say, and mean, that I am the mother and I am in charge…and yet, so quickly, one small but mighty little kid can take over everything.

Anyway it is eye-opening. Frightening, to think what our house will be with 3 (maybe 4) teenage girls on the loose, some day. And also gratifying to watch her not have her freakouts, and sing her songs, and let the sweeter side of her personality out.

And right now I’m off to stem a meltdown in the making.

Hello D&O friends again, it is Lisa with a funny story from the world of building a business and being humbled.  As I told you previously I decided to hop out of corporate last summer and be home with the boys.  Although I wanted to be home, I knew I wanted to work.  That has never been a question.  Although there are times when I would have appreciated months away from any responsibilities except home and family, I do like to work and had always wanted to work from home again but only doing what I felt would be important to me-not just something to kill time and make a little bit of money.  If that was the case I would rather organize and redecorate my home.

I was ready to begin doing what I loved and what I am passionate about.  So 2009 was my chance to begin this path.  A path I did not have time to start while working practically full time, 32 hours a week, balancing a family, friends, volunteer work, and having a husband in school full time, who also worked part-time.  So last summer, I began career coaching and working with Meghan on the Detours events.

As time freed up from D&O this winter I began determining my business name and logo and hired a designer to help me with my website, which is still under construction.  The name has been picked and the logo designed.  I love them both.  But then I kept hearing about “personal branding”.  I kept saying, hum, “I wonder if I need this for my coaching business?”  I decided to hear more about it and attended a workshop given by Randi Bussin, who will be a keynote speaker at the May Detours event.  As part of this workshop I was entitled to go through an assessment process.  This process includes requesting feedback about how I am perceived, strengths, weaknesses, attributes, and skills by people close to me, who know me well, and from various places in my past and present life.

The assessment kicked off about a week ago and it has been a humbling experience in various ways.  The goal of the assessment is to come away with what my perceived brand is from others as compared to how I view myself.  If it matches great.  If it doesn’t then I probably need to fix some things.  The assessment is anonymous so I do not know who responded or what their specific responses are but I can review the data as a whole through out the gathering process.  Although not all the data is in yet and I am not yet ready to have my 25 page branding report produced, I have been reviewing the results.

At times I think wow, that is so great that someone looks at me so positively.  At other times, I view the data and say “oh my gosh am I that bad of a person.”  The weaknesses always seem to get our most attention, don’t they?  I need to remind myself that when really compared to the positive comments and feedback, the weaknesses are not many and aren’t anything I don’t already know about myself and are already, or constantly, working on.  But I want to know them and contain them.

I see this enlightenment as an amazing opportunity and am thankful for my friends, family, and colleagues for participating in this exercise.  I am looking forward to obtaining my customized 25 page personal branding report to see what “my brand” is.  I look forward to defining my brand, rollling out my website, business cards and such this spring.

If you ever wondered what “personal branding” was go check out our keynote speaker’s site or come on May 4th and hear from her yourself.  Randi is one of many special and talented women who will share a piece of themselves and their knowledge with you.  I look forward to meeting you there.

-  Lisa
“A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.”