Category: beautiful life (Page 30 of 35)

The empty motherhood feedback form

In my working world I was that girl who demanded the feedback on how to do my job better. I would celebrate my victories but even more, I wanted to learn what it took to take my work to the next level.  I would spend probably more than appropriate time at my colleagues’ desks asking them questions, recalling situations or having them talk me off the ledge. Daily I would do this. At lunch time, we could converse in the cafe or after the kabillion meetings and group calls we were required to attend. I had instant messaging windows open constantly for chatter about this, that or the other. While worked “independently without much direction” I did so in a “team environment.”

Image via CC by Steven Depolo.

Image via CC by Steven Depolo.

SAHMs often have a team – it’s typically a spouse, and all prayers to the heavens for those who fly solo – but the feedback isn’t immediate. I might text an unlucky friend about the day’s woes or even a few highlights, but the lack of sharing physical space changes things. Presence matters. I don’t want to have to schedule a coffee date 3 Tuesdays from now to rant about the crayon on my wall – I want to march 20 feet away and find willing ears and resume my day with weight lifted, feeling validated.

The desolate loneliness of staying home with children isn’t only about missing adult interaction but also the lack of timely and appropriate feedback  on our work. For instance, I once spent the first quarter of nap time in a loud discussion with the 5-year-old about how mommy’s job isn’t just to give him what he wants, but to help everyone get what they need – in this instance, rest. I was shouted at, name called and eye rolled. The feedback was neither helpful nor thoughtful.

When I think about the ways my kids do offer feedback, I live in extremes. I hear “I love you” no less than 63 times a day. Within the same breath, they might scream at me that “I’m being mean” when I ask them to put shoes on as the mercury dips below 60. Often, I go completely ignored. Repeatedly.

For a person whose love language is primarily words of affirmation, these conditions make it especially tough terrain.

Of course, I do have people tell me “you’re doing a good job” but I sometimes resist, and not out of false humility. They see me at my best, with an audience. What about when I loose my shit before breakfast, ranting like a lunatic because of the 400th apple core left on the coffee table? My boss wouldn’t stand for my behavior. Where are the voices in my life with that reminder?

Right now my life’s work is raising these little humans. I’ve invested my working hours and energy into this gig and I want to give it all I’ve got – as much for my own sake as the children’s. What I want to know is not if I should be doing more crafts (because I won’t) or if I yell too much (because I do): I need the side-by-side learning offered in most work environments. I need co-workers who dealt with similar clients who were never satisfied. I need a meeting where someone brings donuts because she knows we’re working hard but still have miles to go.

Currently Changing My Life: Overfield

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It’s so hard to live your values.

I want my kids to become independent and brave, willing to do what the herd may not consider. This means allowing (and even modeling) a tendency to question. Oh, the questions. If someone came up with a tax policy to compensate those who stay home with small children, a per-question rate needs to be involved. But this is how children learn, by asking  how things work, why something would react in such a way and wondering what would happen if...

I even want my children to (respectfully) question authority and systems of power in place. However, this means allowing them to question my own authority and even my intentions when I set parameters for behavior in our home. On more than one occasion, I’ve chatted with my friend Katie about these challenges, lamenting, “it’s so hard to live your values!”

So when I see someone living their values, even when it’s hard, I’m inspired. I believe, again, it’s actually possible to live your ideals. I think to myself, “See! I can do it!”

Enter: The Overfield School. This is not a place where I drop my children off for a few hours and outsource my educational and parenting responsibilities. They won’t send my kids through an assembly line that magically transforms them to match an ideal prototype. That’s not what they do and that’s not what I need. Instead, the people of the Overfield community walk alongside our family in helping to develop our children into thoughtful, strong, brave and kind little humans.

Last year, and many years prior, Overfield had one of the best Fall Festival events around. Hay rides, pumpkins, face painting, games, pony rides and bounce houses. It was an all-out extravaganza which provided a fun afternoon and the lucrative raffle served as a primary source of funds for the school.

Yet the work required to host such an event required parents to burn candles at all ends. We had a few key families that put hours equivalent to a part-time (or full time!) job into the event and this year they simply could not take it on again. So, guess what Overfield leadership decided to do?

They decided to live their values.

How we spend our time and the way we marshall our energies are Reggio concepts central to the philosophy. As an organization, we believe in the power of play, the opportunity for exploration and that simple things make elaborate teachers. Our fall festival, while buckets of fun for many, contained an element of busyness and entertainment which simply isn’t a part of the Overfield DNA.

So they changed it.

This Saturday, Overfield families past and present are inviting the community to join us on the hill for an evening of what we do best: art in the meadow, songs around the campfire and hikes around the woods. It’s simple, it’s scaled-back and it’s Overfield. It’s an act of making space to savor the simple joys of childhood – as a family and as a group of families. Families will come to enjoy the evening together, sharing small shifts of work rather than being pulled into long commitments to make the festival happen. The sense of excitement around the campus for the event is electric, not exhausted. It feeds us rather than draining us.

Yes, Overfiled will have to make up the fundraising portion of the night in another way. From my view, leadership taking these steps of faith gives me courage to do the same. Most families that spend money on preschool have to rearrange the budget to do so, but we do it because we believe it’s worth it. We value it, so we’re trying to live like we do. No one promised it’s easy to live our values, only that it’s good. And when leadership puts its money where its mouth is, I’ll fall in line, wave a flag and become a cheerleader for the cause. These are the places that make me a better mom because they’re the places that teach my kids to be brave and make hard, but good, decisions, based on what we believe and not just what works or is easiest.

Often people wonder why we put our limited funds into something like preschool. But in the past few years, Overfield is much more than where my kids learn their letters. It’s a community of people who value certain things – like critical thinking, cooperative engagement and a lifelong love of learning – and we’re trying to instill them into our children the best we can. The communal aspect can’t be understated: when we do it together, and when we live our values as an organization, our families return home empowered to do the same.

In many ways, these preschool years have probably taught me the most of any of my educational experiences.

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Wheels

When my cousin Tim enjoyed his own roaring 20s, living the DINK* life, he bought a brand new black Camaro. A sensible purchase? Probably not. But at what other time, other than late into retirement, can one enjoy such treats? Somehow Tim knew to grasp onto the momentary lack of full responsibility.

The Camaro. That is not Tim in the background with the surfboard, no matter what he might say. Photo courtesy CC - Wikipedia

The Camaro. That is not Tim in the background with the surfboard, no matter what he might say. Photo courtesy CC – Wikipedia

My 16-year-old self took full advantage of his situation. He made the drive home one Saturday in May to drop off the newly washed and waxed set of wheels. He parked in the barn and showed me how to work the 6-disc changer (which resided in the trunk. Hellloooo again, 1990s!) which I later forgot and listened to Collective Soul on repeat. Then he gave me the mandatory and expected Lecture. The car goes fast, he told me. Be careful. Then he said something unexpected: At the end of the day, it’s just a hunk of metal.

You are more important than a car.

Of course, this goes without saying within the context of being careful and avoiding accidents. Yet hidden underneath, and now that I’m a tad older and wiser myself, I see the beauty in wanting good things for the people we care about.

I can’t imagine the trust he put into my 16-year-old self, let alone my 17-year-old date, whom he never met. His actions told me that believed in the goodness of people and the worthiness of his little cousin, enough to hand over the keys.

This weekend a friend found herself in unfortunate circumstances without a car. We were laying low so we drove JJ’s vehicle down so she could get to an engagement. Even when you fully trust someone, in the back of your mind you always do the “what would happen if” dance, and we were no different. Yet like my cousin, I believed a person to be more valuable. His words echoed in my ears: At the end of the day, it’s just a hunk of metal.

I’m not sure I would’ve had the guts to follow through had the same trust been placed in me. It would be easy to come up with a reason why we couldn’t extend the offer. Family or not, I want to live like I believe that people are always most important. But it’s hard to live your values.

One of the only things that speaks louder than fear is love, and I was fortunate to be loved with a set of keys early in life, which made it possible for me to love in the same way.

 

*Dual Income, No Kids

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