Hump Day Funnies

That lying groundhog.  We're digging out of a FOOT of snow!

Yes we can!

Having It All Is A Matter of Perspective

A firestorm of controversy has erupted over a recent Atlantic Magazine article,  "Why Women Still Can't Have it All" by Anne-Marie Slaughter.  The controversy is whether or not a working woman who wants or has children can be successful in her professional life.  The impetus for the article stems from Ms. Slaughter's resignation as the "first woman director of policy planning at the State Department" and her subsequent reflections.  Her observations cast a wide net of responsibility:  inflexible work environments, the economic need to be a two-income family, child care/child rearing realities and impossible standards we may set for ourselves.

...many of us are also reinforcing a falsehood: that “having it all” is, more than anything, a function of personal determination...The flip side is the harder truth: having it all was not possible in many types of jobs...

In short, the minute I found myself in a job that is typical for the vast majority of working women (and men), working long hours on someone else’s schedule, I could no longer be both the parent and the professional I wanted to be—at least not with a child experiencing a rocky adolescence. I realized what should have perhaps been obvious: having it all, at least for me, depended almost entirely on what type of job I had. 

Boy, did this resonate.

As Sales Manager of a successful large market radio station,  I felt constantly guilty.  It was a daunting thing to raise two little boys, 14 months apart, have a husband who worked 80 miles from home, living away mid-week and be "there" for my babies.  The pressure was enormous.  I was full of doubt in every area of my life and nothing gave me pleasure.  I kept asking myself, "What's wrong with me?"  I didn't realize, at the time, I was simply overwhelmed, overworked and burning out; and this without  cell phones, laptops or various other

24/7 on-call devices.

About a year after losing that job and returning to the "justa salesperson" category, I turned down a big job, a major advancement with Gannett Broadcasting.  I'd been asked to interview with a competitor as a General Sales Manager, to oversee and re-make their flailing FM, the losing half of a powerful AM/FM combo.  I competed with General Managers for the job in a down-turn economy and I was chosen.  I had to be vetted by the big guy @ Gannett.  But when I was brought in to officially receive the news and discuss my compensation, I balked and said I couldn't take the job; I wasn't up to it, I had two small children at home and I doubted my ability to give my all to the position.  I don't know exactly how I put it but I know how I felt.  I was scared.  I walked out of there and burst into tears.  One of the salespeople, whom I trained at another station, grabbed me and said "You have to take this job!" and convinced me to go back in and recant.  I actually listened to her, went into his office and tried to explain my reaction while telling him I really did want the job.  He practically threw me out saying it was "too late", he'd already called Gannett headquarters and it was on to the next candidate.  Talk about humiliation.

I've thought about that moment for 22 years, beating myself up over my failure to embrace opportunity.  I really was the best candidate.  I knew my stuff.  I'd been trained by the best and my ideas for the turn around were superior to those of my competition.  Why did I turn it down?

Reading the Anne-Marie Slaughter article gave me a perspective I've never before embraced.  It's okay to feel this way.  Somehow, my instincts were to resist doing something I thought I wanted, to advance my upwardly mobile career and create a serious new contender in the market.  Success would propel me into the upper echelon of radio management where I could potentially achieve national success.  It was a dream job.

But was it?  I believe now I had reached a point of no-return, a point where I knew, deep inside, I'd have to give 150%.  What would be left for my family?  I'd already had nannies come and go, none of whom came without their own baggage.  My boys were 3 and 4, in private day school and happy.  But I was always there to pick them up, take them home, make them dinner, bathe them and tuck them in.  I could no longer count on that luxury because I knew if a day required 8 hours, 10 hours or more, I'd be stuck at work.  And it wasn't workable.

Twenty two years later I can finally accept my decision.  I have two grown, wonderful sons and I'm still married to the same guy.  It hasn't been easy but at least I'm no longer filled with self-recrimination.  However, I still feel guilty.

What I realize now is how lucky, how fortunate I've been.  I was not a single mother raising children, I was not paid minimum wage, I did not live in the projects.  I could afford a nanny, a private school; I had it good even when I didn't know it.  Some of us are luckier than others and I don't know why but I know it is so.

It's all a matter of perspective.

Mommies, Have A Wonderful Day!

Happy Birthday to My Youngest

"My Name is Bond, James Bond."

The morning of the birth of my second child, the only thing I felt, as I was wheeled in to the birthing room, was a fear I can only describe as "primal". It had nothing to do with the childbirth process. It was an unreasonable, unsettling dread I couldn't shake: that something, somehow was going to be terribly wrong. My husband felt it as well but we didn't know why. All indications were this would be a healthy baby...and he was. 

Prom Night
Posing With Mom

That was 22 years ago today. My son has grown into a young man of great kindness and consideration with a generous heart. At 6'2" he is a presence. People respond to him positively. He has a winning personality and is eager to please. In some ways he is naive for his age but we raised him in a rural, mountainous region. His exposure to city ways has been limited to a couple of semesters in college and the tourists we get. But that is okay too for he has a charm more winning than his slightly more sophisticated friends.

The apprehension we felt the morning of his birth stayed with us many years. We were fearful, oh so fearful, something would happen to him. We hid that fear but I've always wondered if he picked up on it anyway. He once said, at a fairly young age, "I don't think I'm going to live too long." You can imagine how I responded to that statement! Both boys were hellions during their teenaged years but this one always got caught. Middle of the night phone calls bring a dread every parent knows. I would sit bolt upright with each one or lie in bed awake until he came home. My insomnia was such I finally had to sleep in another bedroom where I couldn't hear the car arrive in the middle of the night.

Turning 21

His twenty first birthday was a turning point for me.  He had gone to college for a few semesters, lived in Utah and was now living in a house he shared with friends.  His behaviour no longer was "in my face" so to speak.  I wasn't confronted with it and, as a consequence, wasn't reacting.  It was what many parents wait for:  a reprieve. Living with us now, he's working two jobs, seven days a week, saving money to move to Tampa. I'm so proud.  I am grateful for his presence and the opportunity to mother him just a little longer. I make his favorite meals when he can have dinner with us and I now hope the day he leaves takes its time because I know how much I will miss him.

Workin' Up A Sweat on the Florida Gulf Coast 2009

I still listen for his car at night. I still react with concern to my phone ringing after 10pm. I no longer have the dread.  It's just a parental hangover.  He's still my baby and I will never, ever stop wondering how he is.

Sunset, Holmes Beach 2009

Happy Birthday Beautiful Boy!

Happy Mother's Day

 Last year on Anna Maria Island.  This was the best vacation we've had as a family.  I treasure the time together as the mother of two wonderful boys and a husband whom I've known since I was 16 years old.

Inner Child

Sunset Northern NH

Today's appointment with the therapist was, ostensibly, to discuss our new living arrangements with MIL.  It began, however, as a rant of frustration with my younger son who'd agreed to attend the therapy session then bailed last minute because he was out late partying.

My therapist is a wise man.  The anger I was feeling towards my younger son came blurting out first and next thing I know, I'm asked to examine the feelings behind the anger:  disappointment in my son, insecurity about my parenting skills.  He then proceeded to have me break down the insecurity as it related to being a child.  What's the earliest incident of insecurity I remember?  I immediately focused on my discomfort in Jr. High, as a nerdy, unattractive girl with few social skills outside my own small circle.  From there I remembered an incident in the 4th or 5th grade where the cliquey group of kids to whom I did not belong, they called themselves "The Royal Family", persuaded me to join them in pelting my best friend with orange peels during a lunch time fracas in the girls bathroom.  My best friend!  It bothered me forty years til we re-connected and I wrote to her about it, apologizing.

I was asked about my home situation at that time, how did my parents get along?  I replied that my father would pick fights with my mother when he was tired or in a bad mood.  He'd browbeat her and she'd protest but take it, rarely fighting back.  There were no obscenities or physical abuse, just anger directed at Mother.  I hated it and wanted her to leave him.  

The therapist asked me to be the nine year old, to get in touch with the feelings I had then.  Hard to do.  Eventually he pointed out how being a young child in an unstable family situation would imprint insecurity and teach me to retreat from standing up for myself, etc because that was my role model. This leads to anger and lashing out, etc.  I protested saying I'd found my voice as an individual when a teenager and probably went too much the other way...standing up for myself to the nth degree, getting in people's faces (including my fathers') when I felt I'd been wronged.  He showed me how I carried this insecurity and anger to the present day, suppressing my fear/anger/insecurities with the real situation and later lashing out at a loved one.  It's a learned pattern.

I am now asked to "be with that little 9 year old girl" whenever these feelings arise.  I am to provide a safe place for her to come and be protected.  I am to learn to help her.  It's a tall, weird order but I think I can do this.  I'm just amazed at how much I still have to learn about myself, others and life.

Incredible series on this subject on PBStv right now.  Check local listings for:

This Emotional Life explores ways to improve social relationships, learn to cope with depression and anxiety and become  more positive, resilient individuals.
Part 1: Family, Friends and Lovers demonstrates that relationships are not only important, they are central to our emotional well-being.  Part 2: Facing Our Fears examines negative emotions such as anger, fear, anxiety and despair and how they play a part in the balance of life. Part 3: Rethinking Happiness offers research supporting the theory  that many people look for happiness in the wrong places.

Always

When I was a little girl and my mother put me to bed at night, she would sometimes sing the song, "Always". I knew it only as her love song to me.

As I grew older, I learned it was a very famous song by Irving Berlin. I think it dates back to 1912 but I haven't fact checked that yet. My mother was born in 1915. Perhaps her mother sang it to her. I'll never know because Mother died in 1997.

I've added this song to my Playlist widget, recently uploaded to this blog. I love it very much (the song, that is) and it connects me to my mother in a way nothing else can. Her favorite songs were "Stardust" and "I'll Be Seeing You"; songs from WWII.

Right now, my Playlist songs are songs of love for everyone...but especially for my mother.