Leading Mama

Because I Can

Sometimes a word, phrase or idea gets planted in my brain and takes root. It grows, tendrils reaching into other parts of my consciousness, roots thrusting down into my unconscious and permeating ideas yet to surface.

 

Right now, the phrase "Because I Can," has a hold of my mind like kudzu takes over Southern highway roadsides. I can't let it go. It begs me to notice, to think about it, to chop through and see what's underneath.

 

The phrase burrowed into my brain several weeks ago. Leading Man was watching a television program about posh parties for kids. He joked with me about the cost of Little Man's upcoming party, and said the mom on screen had spent $15,000 on her child's birthday party. When the interviewer asked her "Why?" she responded:

 

BECAUSE I CAN.

 

(Please excuse me while I get my soapbox. I'll need it right about now.)

 

Ahem.

 

BECAUSE I CAN?!

 

What an arrogant, obnoxious thing to say. "Because I Can" says "I have more money than sense."  It says "Because I am not responsible to others." It says "I care more about making my kids feel good than teaching them financial responsibility, value and compassion."

 

It says "I dare you to judge me."

 

In my upper-middle-class mentality, I cannot fathom spending this kind of cash on a party. Any party. No matter how much I have -- and we're comfortable, I admit that -- I don't want my kids to think this kind of spending is wise. Money can do immense good. It can also do harm.

 

"Because I Can" is a safer, softer way of saying "Because you can't."

 

It is a claim to power.  Power over other people. Power wielded with no regard for the consequences. Power that divides.

 

In my world, "Because I Can" doesn't excuse wreckless behavior.

 

Applied with compassion, Because I Can is not "power over," it is "power to." The power to improve people's lives. The power to heal wounded hearts. The power to lift sagging spririts. The power to change what ails us locally, nationally, and globally.

 

Use your power to send donations to tsunami relief agencies. Why? Because you can.

 

Send words of comfort to the parents of a rural Pennsylvania farm family who lost 7 of their 8 children to a house fire last week while they, the parents, worked through the night in the dairy barn. Why? Because you can.

 

Find a military family near you and pay a lawn service to mow their grass all summer so that military mom doesn't have to do her it all herself. She'll never ask for it. But you'll make a difference. 

 

Volunteer your time. It is just as powerful as money, maybe moreso. 

 

Do these things BECAUSE YOU CAN.

 

Bottom line: "Because I Can" is no excuse. "Because I Can" is a privilege. Honor it.

 

This post prepared for Pour Your Heart Out Wednesday at Things I Can't Say. Thanks to reality TV for the inspiration. I am stepping down from the soapbox now.

 

Balance is Relative

Time management gurus would freak out if they saw how I operate. I don't collect empty pizza boxes or tchochkes, but I'm surrounded by so many to-dos and wanna-learns I could star in a special episode of Hoarding: Buried Alive. I'd call it "the overachiever edition." Maybe I should pitch this idea to Oprah.

 

Here's my dirty little secret to getting it all done.

 

I let creative impulses, have-to's, want-to's  and deadlines determine what I do and when I do it.

 

Leading Man calls it "just-in-time excellence."

 

If the ideas are swimming in my head, I capture them on paper. I save files and add details as they come to me. When article is due, I write it. If Little Man is out of socks (again!), I do laundry. If the baby has a hacking cough -- right now she sounds like a 2-pack-a-day smoker -- I take her to the clinic. If I feel like Thai Chicken with Basil for dinner, I get busy in the kitchen. If I don't want to cook, I defrost and reheat.

 

When someone offers snuggle time, I drop everything and I "nuggle." I *do* have priorities, you know.

 

The old schedule that housewives perfected over a hundred years and embroidered on millions of flour-sack dish towels just wouldn't fly around here.  

  

Monday: Wash Day
Tuesday: Ironing Day
Wednesday: Sewing Day
Thursday: Market Day
Friday: Cleaning Day
Saturday: Baking Day
Sunday: Day of Rest

 

Spreading tasks over time would certainly make my life more manageable. But it doesn't fit with my personality. I love the pressure of a deadline. The thrill of keeping too many balls in the air is something I miss if my to-do list grows shorter than my arm. I get itchy to take on new tasks.

 

But -- even if it looks like I am in way over my head most days -- I manage to maintain a sense of balance in the longer term.

 

Right now I am working hard. I am overcommitted. I am struggling to stop myself from taking on more. And I am loving every minute of it.

 

I'm also anticipating a delicious change of pace when we go on a two-week vacation this spring. (Where? Turks and Caicos, thank you very much for asking. Super scuba, gorgeous lush tropical happiness, sandcastle making and shell-collecting. Mmmm. I can almost feel the sun on my face.)

 

For Leading Mama, balance is relative.

I know I can have it all, just not all at the same time.

 

This post inspired by a prompt from

 

 

 

 

 

Undercover Mom: Getting Eye-to-Eye with Your Kids

All moms are CEOs. Chief Everything Officers, that is. From the moment our kids enter the world, we feel responsible for everything. We worry about whether they eat or sleep enough or too much. We obsess over when they will crawl, walk, and talk. We work to put food on the table, pay for health care, and save for college. We cook, clean, shop and chauffeur.

 

And we keep track of who pooped and when. And what color it was. According to my friend Jen, when you become a mom, you become CEO: Chief Excrement Officer. Let me say that before I had my first child, I thought Jen was being kind of crass. Two kids later, I get it. Totally.

 

Last night’s rebroadcast episode of Undercover Boss featured “Mama Wolf” Kim Schaefer, CEO of Great Wolf Resorts, North America's largest family of indoor waterpark resorts. Schaefer, the first woman to be featured on Undercover Boss, posed as a stay-at-home-mom returning to work. She helped kids make pizzas in the Cub Club, shadowed the safety supervisor in the waterpark, and waited tables in the restaurant.

 

And she cleaned up an AFR (“accidental fecal release”) in one of the pools. Now that’s the kind of dirty work any mom can relate to. It’s gooey. It stinks. You didn’t make the mess. And you have to clean it up.

 

Even my military knowledge did not prepare me to understand THAT acronym. Leading Man and I were laughing out loud when the staff explained what it meant. And Schaefer earned my respect when she cleaned it up without cringing or shuddering in disgust.

 

I’m sure Schaefer learned a great deal from her undercover experience. She seemed to be profoundly affected by the stories of the women and men who work at Great Wolf. If nothing else, she came to more deeply understand the reasons people work, the challenges they face, and the dreams they cherish. She got in touch with her people as people. She internalized their struggles and let them touch her heart.  

 

As a mom, I wish I could go undercover to see what it feels like to be one of my kids. I know I would confront glaring inconsistencies. Why is it okay to eat pancakes but not okay to eat cupcakes for breakfast, anyway?  

 

Obviously, there’s no magic machine that can make me a kid again. I’ll have to get down on my hands and knees and play with my kids instead. When I play with my kids eye-to-eye, I stop thinking about what’s for dinner and whether we’re saving enough for college. I tune in to them as people. And that’s the kind of insight every CEO – and mom – needs.  

 

Bearing Bad News

One of the not-so-fun parts of parenting is giving kids bad news. Here's some of my week:

Your fish died because daddy overfed it while we were on vacation. (thanks, hon)

Your Wild Kratts and Dinosaur Train shows were deleted from the DVR when we recorded Tremors, an 1990 cult classic about huge underground snake-like monsters.

You won’t be seeing your cousins anytime soon, since they live in California and we live in New Jersey.

It’s enough to break a mom’s heart. 
I'd rather be eaten by a subterranean snake monster. Really.

 

Fortunately, management experts have lots of tips for how to deliver bad news. I’m not sure how well they’ll work when Carson wants to eat a cupcake for breakfast (again) or a play Medal of Honor (“The bad guys are pretend, mom. They aren’t real guns.”), but these tips are worth trying.

1.       Make eye contact. It shows you are engaged in the conversation and attentive to your child’s expressions. It also means you can’t hide from the truth you are telling.

2.       Don’t let emotions interfere with your message. Share your feelings if you think they will help, but don’t get wrapped up in them. You’re the leader here. Kids shouldn’t have to soothe you. Use a grown-up support system to vent and do it out of earshot of the kids.

3.       Be direct but not snarky. Tone is extremely important. It can communicate compassion, concern, or schadenfreude. Kids should know you are care about their feelings even when you set limits they don’t like. When I get snippy, Carson puts me in time out. Ouch!

4.       Tell it like it is.  Resist the urge to soften bad news by making up stories or using euphemisms. Dead dogs don’t go to live on farms in the country. You wouldn’t want your boss to tell you the company is “expanding its overseas operations” when he really means they outsourced your job to India, would you?

Delivering bad news is one of the most difficult tasks in leadership and parenting. Fortunately, I get a lot of practice.