Leading Mama

My Year in Review

Another year is coming to an end, and the Washington Post Magazine headline reads "The Year in Review." In the article, Dave Barry laughs at 2008 -- from gas prices (which are only funny because the economy was in better shape when we couldn't afford gas), to OJ Simpson and Joe the Plumber. For me, this means it’s time to take stock of what I did (and didn't do) this year. Perhaps my list of experiences will bring to mind your own fond memories. I hope so!

 

* Took my toddler on 16 airplane flights – and only spilled one airline cup of apple juice

* Witnessed my son’s first steps, first word, first birthday and first haircut

* Reunited with my husband after his 15-month "work-related trip" to Afghanistan – whew!

* Lived (with my husband, toddler, and decrepit collie) like squatters in my mother’s upstairs bedroom for a period of nearly 3 months – and no one came to blows

* Took a two-week no-work-allowed vacation to Zihuatanejo, Mexico – longest vacation of my life and worth every penny

* Endured hideous stomach flu and frequent projectile vomiting in an Orange County hotel room – after 3 days cooped up with a puking toddler, I got the bug myself (ugh)

* Trekked across country with carload of household items, three people and the family dog to our current home in Alexandria, VA

* Lived in a very small hotel room for two weeks while cat pee abatement took place in home-to-be – rented sight unseen through the wonders of Craigslist (Note to self: you can’t smell cat pee through the Internet)

* Became a freelance writer, thanks to the inspiration of Christina Katz’ book The Writer Mama, her blog, an online class, and my own hard work (and tears)

* Launched the LeadingMama Blog, and kept at it even when laundry piled up and the vacuum needed running

* Published articles in 17 regional parenting magazines

* Sold articles for publication in 2009 to 15 additional publications, including two national consumer magazines and four magazines abroad (Malaysia, Singapore, United Kingdom, and Canada)

* Signed contracts for two additional articles with a national trade publication

* Joined a new group of moms for camaraderie and learned (again) that we all want the best for our kids and we could all use a little boost now and then

* Enjoyed countless library sing-alongs, play groups, park days, zoos and aquariums, and Smithsonian museums

* Cleaned the sand out of my son’s diaper after his first fantastic swim in the Pacific

* Cleaned the sand out of his mouth after his first sandbox adventure in the back yard

* Voted for a presidential candidate who WON (damn, it feels like it's been a long time since THAT happened for me!)

* Cooked Afghan food for an Afghan dinner guest (gutsy but successful attempt)

* Learned to make tortillas (both corn and flour) from scratch

* Checked out so many library books I reached the 40-books-at-a-time limit on several occasions!

* Baked Christmas cookies with my son, who suggested we roll the dough into snakes (Hisssssssssss) because that’s what we do with his Playdoh

 

 

It's been a busy year, and 2009 will be busier still. In the last precious days of 2008, I’ll dream and plan the adventures that lie ahead. Oooh, what fun!

The Care and Feeding of Stress Puppies

Last week I put aside what I had planned in order to write an article that was commissioned 6 days before deadline by a magazine I queried in early November. Six days is not enough days, mind you – especially when the article requires interviews with famously busy experts on the topic and it’s find-a-$10-gift-for-the-holiday-office-party week. 

 

Perhaps Santa likes irony. The article whose words and phrases chased my dreams away and left me stressed out and crazy was titled “How to Turn Off Your Brain and Get the Sleep You Need.” I spent the week reading about relaxation, interviewing experts on stress, and obsessing over things I didn’t know and couldn’t control. And those obsessions took root, sprouted, and grew as the week went on. 

 

Stress is the gift that keeps on taking. It steals your concentration, ruins your sleep, poisons your attitude. I found myself mentally writing and re-writing inane sentences at 3 a.m. when all I wanted was some rest. The churning, roiling lump of anxiety inside spun off little stresslets all week long. Stresslet is my pet name for the what-ifs that get you in their grasp and won’t let go no matter how small or how irrational. With a little care and feeding, those little stresslets grow in to big, hairy monsters, you know. 

 

Four days since the deadline, I think I’m finally wrestling free. What brought me back to some semblance of sanity? Christmas letters from good friends, time with my family, and a big dose of gratitude for all the good things in my life. If the stresslets in your life are growing like Saint Bernard puppies, get some perspective. Call a friend and take time to catch up. Order your café mocha in a ceramic mug, and dunk a biscotti. Buy and give a gift through the charity organization you admire (Salvation Army, Toys for Tots, etc.). When you step away, you’ll see that stresslets are kind of cute when they’re small. Really.

I'm More Than My One-Sentence Bio

Each time I write a query or send an article to print, I have to write a bio to accompany my work. Typically brief, they never seem to really capture all the ground I feel I've covered in 39 years.

 

People evolve. As we grow, we collect social identities. Over time they become personal. My becoming unfolded like this.

 

As an infant, my parents called me the cross-eyed wonder. I’ve known this since childhood and it made me believe they loved even my imperfections. Of course, crossed eyes don’t last forever. When I didn’t cut a single tooth by my first birthday, they renamed me the toothless wonder.

 

My first word was cookie. I was (and am) a lover baked goods, and I’m an award-winning baker. In 4^th grade, I won a school cake decorating contest. Last year, my 6-layer chocolate hazelnut cake brought $110 in the Little League dessert auction. I’ve also made birthday cakes for my niece (swimming pool, complete with teddy bear sunbathers) and nephew (skateboard with chocolate donut wheels). Any occasion is a reason for baking.

 

I earned my B.A. and M.A. in Psychology at Fresno State where I was an undergraduate workaholic, completing my B.A. in only 3 years. The only “B” I earned was in Women’s Studies, and I slept through a lot of it. When I went to the University of Illinois to get my doctorate in 1992, I became the deserter.

My family (well, my mother at least) thought I’d earn my degree and come home. What they (and I) hadn’t realized is advanced education makes you a specialist in a niche so tiny only a handful of people understand your work and want to hire you. I’m a personality psychologist. That means I study traits and beliefs that make each person unique (and interesting).

 

Dr. Smith – yep, that’s me – taught college from 1997 to 2007 at several schools from Hobart and William Smith Colleges in Geneva, NY to Weber State University in Ogden, Utah. I met my husband in the midst of the US Air Force Academy’s sexual assault scandal. We were both on the faculty and in the eye of the political storm. I became Dr. Mrs. Luedtke when we married. Hubby has deployed three times in four years and currently works at the 5-sided military headquarters here in DC. 

 

My son was born in March, 2007 and so was I (again). Becoming a mom is intense, sweet and exhausting. Each time I think I have mothering figured out, a new challenge rises up to meet me. I know you know what I mean.

These days, I work mostly as a mom. I'm also a freelance writer (at naptime or whenever else I get the opportunity!) I write about personality and people skills for parents and business managers. I blog about parenting and leadership. I look for opportunities to learn new things and share them with others. I am, and always will be, a teacher at heart. 

 

Somehow these things never make it into my one-sentence bio.

Oh, Say Can't You See?

I was driving home from the commissary yesterday when a radio commercial sponsored by the American Automobile Association came on. In the ad, a spokesperson for AAA informed listeners that the use of hands-free cell phone devices while driving is no safer than using hand-held cell phones. The reason, he said, is people are likely to get so deeply engaged in their phone conversation that they literally do not see what it right in front of their eyes. Perception researchers call this “seeing without seeing” inattention blindness. 

 

I got to thinking that inattention blindness doesn’t just happen behind the wheel, and it doesn’t just happen when we’re gabbing on our cell phones. Much of the imbalance in modern living is the result of inattention blindness on a much bigger scale.

 

Each of us performs a number of roles on a daily basis. I, for example, am a wife, a mother, a pet owner and caretaker, a freelance writer, a business owner, a friend and confidant, a mom’s club member and book group coordinator, an athlete, a thinker, a housekeeper, a sister, a daughter, a military spouse, a chef, a chauffeur, a hostess, Santa’s helper…I’m sure there are more, but you get the idea. Some of our roles are defined by our personal interests, some by our relationships with others, some by our professional work or the tasks we do. 

 

Inattention blindness and a sense of unhealthy imbalance happen because some roles are more absorbing than others. When a cranky toddler with a stinky diaper and a runny nose holds my attention, I miss the gotta-go-outside signals and end up with dog pee on the floor. When a looming deadline or muddled story idea absorbs my energies, I forget to ask my husband about his day and don’t notice or acknowledge the kind things he does to support me. He feels neglected and underappreciated even if he doesn’t pee on the floor to get my attention. (Thank goodness!) 

 

If you’re feeling out of control and off balance, stop and look for the blind spots in your life. Your intense focus on the most pressing issues has likely blinded you to other important joys and concerns. Take it all in. You may be surprised when you see what you’re missing. I was.

Buried Treasure: Great Books for Kids

I am always on the lookout for books my son will like -- and that I won't mind reading OVER and OVER and OVER. Don't get me wrong, I think learning the names of obscure construction equipment is an important little boy right of passage. He should know the difference between a backhoe and a roller and a cherry picker, right?

Call me crazy -- I'd like him to know up and down, big and little, duck and cow and horse, too. I want him to dream about pirates, and shout "Aaarrrrr" as he uncovers buried treasure in his toybox. But shopping for books with a toddler in tow is not particularly productive. As I pull a book from the shelf and scan the pages checking out the language and illustrations, he pulls books from the shelf just to pull them down. He does so with abandon. Books fly from the shelf. In less than a minute there are so many books on the floor we'd need a Caterpillar D-11R Carrydozer Track Type Loader to scoop them all up. Really.

If you, like me, want to find excellent books for your kids but have book shopping challenges, fret not.

Visit Ethan's Bookshelf (www.ethansbookshelf.com) for reviews of wonderful children's books. Editor Jenny Rich (a reading specialist, teacher, and mom) writes thorough, vivid descriptions of each title she includes, and categorizes by age and by theme to make book shopping easy and fun. This isn't Amazon -- Ethan's Bookshelf includes only the best books for kids. You can purchase individual books directly from the site or select a whole set of books by theme and buy them all with a single mouse click.  I'm loving it.

Need to see it to believe it? Try out www.lookybook.com to preview picture books page by page. Once you decide you've found a keeper, you can purchase online or head to the local library to check it out.

The Business of Education

At a time when family budgets are shrinking and unemployment is on the rise, more and more schools are paying students for academic achievement. In Chicago, financial incentives are offered as part of “Green for Grades.” In more than 100 Texas high schools, the nonprofit group Advanced Placement Strategies pays up to $500 to kids earning top scores on AP English, math and science tests. 

Have I lost touch with reality or does this seem like a really bad idea to you, too?

 

Psychological research consistently shows when you pay people to perform tasks, they lose interest in them. It’s as if they think to themselves “If she’s got to pay me to do this, it must be really boring.” Kids paid to color pictures decide they aren’t so fond of coloring anymore. Professional athletes lose touch with the thrill of the sport when they’re overpaid and under pressure. What’s worse, when external incentives disappear, most people stop doing what you paid them to do.

 

Remind me – what makes the cash-for-grades exchange a good idea?

 

Business leaders might compare this practice to incentive systems for employees. There are several similar systems in business practice – profit sharing, working on commission, bonuses for exceptional performance.

 

Since school funding depends on student test scores, the practice of paying students for grades amounts to an educational profit sharing plan. Sort of – but not really. In profit sharing programs, employees typically share in the company’s profits as a group, not as individuals. Profit sharing programs encourage employees to work as a team for the good of the organization. One employee’s success is irrelevant if profits are down across the board. Everyone has to achieve or no one does.

 

WashingtonD.C.’s “Capital Gains” incentive system and other programs nationwide reward individual performance. These programs amount to work on commission for students. The more good grades they post, the greater their individual financial rewards. Other students’ success is irrelevant. And no work means no pay.

 

I know it’s tempting to believe financial incentives will motivate kids to stay in school and get good grades. But if school is work, and education is business, then we know paying people more can’t make them care. And it can’t make them stay where they don’t want to be. 

 

Nearly a quarter of all American’s change jobs each year, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. Though 89% of managers think their employees quit because they could make more money elsewhere, only 12% of employees leave for more money. The #1 reason people quit their jobs is BAD MANAGEMENT. 

 

Bad bosses fail to involve people in decision making. They fail to appreciate employees’ contributions. And they fail to develop employees’ talents and abilities. One study found workers are almost four times more likely to leave because their skills are not being used and their careers are not being developed than because of salary.

 

Before paying another poor student to earn a passing score on the state-mandated math test this year, maybe educators need to re-think what truly motivates students. Just like adults, kids appreciate opportunities to contribute to something bigger than themselves. They like being part of a team. They want to make a difference in the world. Not later – NOW.

 

Kids’ enthusiasm for learning new skills (animation, photography, auto mechanics) and developing talents (art, music, athletics, drama) is automatic. We don’t have to pay them to play baseball. We don’t offer incentives for drawing or singing or photography. Because learning is incentive enough.

 

Unfortunately the intrinsically satisfying nature of learning is undermined by teach-the-test academics. There’s no room left for exploring what is interesting to students. No time for group projects and service learning. Education has been reduced to assembly line production – no room for creativity remains.

 

If assessment-centric decision making, educational inequity, and an inability to see how education matters in life have de-motivated students to the point we must pay them to learn, we’ve got a problem no amount of money can fix. Really.

 

Way to Win!

Woo hoo!!!!!

 

I got the good news late last night. 

 

No, I’m not referring the results of the Presidential race – I’m talking about the race results of the 5^th-6^th grade boys Cross Country district finals.

 

My nephew, Ryan, won 14^th place out of 103 (extremely fast) runners. He earned a ribbon and surpassed his personal goal to place in the top 15. Now that’s something to shout about! Can I hear you say "Woo hoo?!"

 

This is his second season in cross country, and Ryan’s come a long way (literally and not-so-literally). He’s learned to position himself at the starting line so he can get out ahead of the pack. He’s learned not to waste mental or physical energy turning around to see what’s behind him. He stays focused on the terrain ahead. 

 

He now paces himself so he’s got enough gas left at the end to sprint to the finish. Keep in mind that even when he’s pacing himself, he runs a mile in under 6 minutes. And when someone outruns him, he’s learned that what matters most is how he ran in comparison to his personal bests and personal goals. Lots of grown-ups haven’t learned that yet.

 

Ryan won nearly every meet this season. And I’m very proud of him. When I watched him run this fall, I was struck by the way he makes speed look graceful and easy. That’s what great athletes do, right? 

 

He crossed the finish line with a wide smile on his face, not looking at all like who just ran a heart-pounding mile. He took a few minutes to get a drink and hug his mom, catching his breath and savoring the thrill of the win. And then he turned to his teammates and said, “Come on guys, let’s cheer in Logan.” 

 

Ryan led a group of fellow runners back to the course and they yelled and they cheered for the last runner left on the course, a kid who runs with great heart despite coming in last in every race. As he neared the end, Ryan started jogging. He ran next to his friend Logan until he crossed the finish line, too.

 

Now that’s the way to win.

 

Congratulations on an awesome cross country season, Ryan! I couldn’t be prouder of you.

The Myth of Independent-Mindedness

While I was pedaling the recumbent bike at the health club this morning, (yet another) political ad caught my attention. I can’t recall the name of the candidate, as his selling proposition wasn’t particularly unique. Behind his headshot, in large letters, were the words “Independent-Minded.”

 

I guess all candidates want us to believe that they’re independent minded, insofar as none of them boast they’re “in-tight-with-the-Washington-fatcats-who-created-the-mess-we’re-in” or “swayed-by-Wall-Street-bankers-lawyers-and-lobbyists.” Never mind that my slogans won’t fit the TV screen, even in wide screen mode. You get my point.

 

I’ve been thinking of the dependence—independence continuum this week as I’m writing a piece on teenagers, whose headstrong independence in our big, scary world frightens many Moms and Dads. Parents of teenagers emphasize taking care of and thinking for oneself – we don’t want them to be swayed by the half-baked arguments of some other newly independent teenager we hardly know. “If Johnny jumped off a cliff, would you follow him?”

 

Independent-mindedness is prized in our culture – we measure skill and success largely by individual achievements (test scores, promotions, contests won, opponents defeated). But independent-mindedness isn’t enough – and it can be arrogant or dangerous.

 

I truly don’t believe independent-mindedness is possible – 60 years of psychological research shows our judgments and behavior are influenced by social and environmental cues far outside our awareness. But even if it were possible, I’m not sure it’s desirable. 

 

Leadership matters precisely because we’re all connected to each other and to our environment in ways we can scarcely fathom. It requires interdependent-mindedness. 

 

As a parent, I want my son to be both capable and caring. I want him to see how his actions can build up or tear down, and how his words can hurt or inspire. I want him to appreciate the interdependent nature of people, plants, and animals and act accordingly. If his actions do damage, I want him to make amends – and to do better next time. Now that’s leadership for an interdependent world.

 

To Err is Human, To Admit It Is Leadership

I'm reading a book by Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson entitled Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me): Why We Justify Foolish Beliefs, Bad Decisions, and Hurtful Acts. Both giants in the field of social psychology, Tavris and Aronson review 50 years of research on cognitive dissonance and self-justification, explaining how we tend to rationalize, justify, ignore, and evade evidence suggesting we’ve erred. 

 

The fragile ego needs protection, after all.

 

Tavris and Aronson remark, “To err is human, but humans have a choice between covering up and fessing up.” And most often, when confronted with proof we’re wrong, become even more tenacious in our own self-deception and self-defense.

 

It’s easy to find public examples in politics and on Wall Street these days. Just last night as we watched 60 Minutes, I wondered how hedge fund managers who made MILLIONS of dollars on credit default swaps and derivatives could live with themselves as they watch the US economy crumble before their eyes. People are losing their homes, their retirement savings, their jobs. 

 

The answer, of course, is that bankers and hedge fund managers and legislators responsible for the credit crunch live with themselves “exactly the way the rest of us do.” Now I’m not saying you or I have made bad decisions that impacted millions and millions of people (and Tavris and Aronson didn’t say that either). 

 

What I am saying is the psychological process of self-justification that allows them to sleep at night is the same one that allows you or I to live with the knowledge we’ve screwed up and hurt those we love, perhaps deeply.

 

In the last 24 hours, I’ve had two opportunities to admit a mistake. I confess in the more emotional, personally meaningful situation, I responded just like social psychologists would predict (and their predictions are not usually very favorable). In the less emotional, more black-and-white business-related situation, I very quickly (though not without embarrassment) admitted my error, explained how it happened, expressed my sincerest apologies, and asked for a gracious response from the individual I wronged. (And I'm happy to say the situation was resolved positively.)

 

The difficult situation was an argument with my husband, who felt I was critical of his parenting behavior. I fairly quickly dug in my heels (“I did not criticize you”), justified my behavior (“You started it”), and walked away from additional confrontation (literally).  

 

In the minutes that followed, what flashed through my mind was all the evidence to support my position, and a host of unspoken arguments to counteract his. I won’t list them here, and I’m glad that – at least this time – I kept all those not-so-kind words to myself. Keeping my mouth shut certainly isn’t my nature. 

 

Without the prompting of Mistakes Were Made, I’m not sure I would have re-evaluated what happened yesterday. Actually, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have. 

 

While I easily find fault with my hair (it’s flat today), my thighs (not as thin as they should be), my housekeeping (not a high priority), it’s much harder to see mistakes in my own behavior. I think that’s true for most of us. Real life requires a little (well, maybe a lot) of self-deception. We all make bad decisions at times, and sometimes our behavior hurts others. In order to feel like good, honest, caring, capable people, we justify it. Then we remember it selectively, culling out the parts that aren’t so flattering like we cut bad boyfriends out of our college photo albums. 

 

While I still don’t believe I criticized him directly, I certainly see how my husband interpreted it that way. And I am truly sorry I hurt him. That seems like a step in the right direction. I admit I’ve got a ways to go.

 

Now if those hedge fund managers would fess up, we could all sleep better tonight.

Zen and the Art of Grandparenting

I just came home from a trip to California to visit my extended family. My son got to spend time with his grandma, playing with toys, reading books, picking flowers in the yard, and riding the Sugar Pine railroad Jenny car through the forest. He pulled down Halloween decorations, spilled juice on her floor, whined and cried for no apparent reason, and threw food off his highchair – all the things he does at home (same kid, different location).

 

And grandma never lost her cool. She patiently coos “What’s the matter? Are things not going your way today?” She busies him with nature walks, distracts him with books. She never reaches the level of exasperation that I, his mother, reach when he makes yet another mess for me to clean up.

 

We visited my grandparents on this trip as well. My grandpa is 95 years old and sharp as ever. Earlier this month he took the driver’s test (written and behind-the-wheel) to prove he’s still got what it takes to drive from the house to the ranch and back. He passed with flying colors. My grandma is almost 91, and currently painting more than 20 pieces of china for the California state china painter’s convention. Her dishes are simply beautiful.

 

As I look back at my childhood, I have fond memories of time with my grandparents. I recall dinners at their house when my cousins and I played croquet in the yard, and sleepovers when we’d listen to Bozo the Clown records describing Bozo’s trip to Borneo and other exotic destinations.

 

Each year, the grandkids would get to count the change in grandpa’s change drawer and roll all the coins before splitting the booty six ways. We made some serious money and learned a lot of math, too. When we went home, grandma would make up a “care package” of snacks for the ride. She’d often include a golden delicious apple.

 

None of these activities has the pure kiddo appeal of a trip to Disneyland or a Wii system. But time with his grandparents is far more precious than any gift I could give my son. Why? Because

 

• Grandparents have time. And they haven’t read your story book 423 times this week, so they still delight in reading it again and again.
• Grandparents are patient. They don’t expect kids to hurry and wash their hands, hurry and get in the car, or hurry and brush their teeth. Grandparents go with the flow of kid time.
• Grandparents take the long view. They don’t get caught up in the minute-to-minute trials and tribulations of parenthood. They’re eager to see kids grow and change, but they don’t pressure kids to achieve milestone or ace tests at school. Grandparents love who we are right now, not who they think we might become someday.

Next time my son eats blue crayon or makes me drag his limp body across a busy parking lot, I’ll stop and ask myself “What would grandma do?” After all, toddlerhood doesn’t last forever. And someday I’ll miss reading books with my son. Even if it is the same story over and over.