Again, the silver lining, another cliche, but a really valuable thing to learn: how to find the silver lining in all situations and people you meet. I find if I cannot find something good or at least funny that I can laugh about in every person or situation that life becomes rather unbearable and joyless. There are so many people out there, it seems especially now when the nation is so uptight and stressed in general, that the Debbie Downers are everywhere...wah, wah, waaaaah.
By the way, I hope all of you have seen the Debbie Downer skits from Saturday Night Live a few years ago. If you have not, Google "Debbie Downer" and watch a couple on YouTube. You will suddenly recognize people you work with, people in your family, and frighteningly, maybe yourself.
Debbie just thinks that everything is awful, despicable and unacceptable. It becomes so funny as you watch a skit because you can't believe that anyone could be so outrageously negative, but I can name at least five people off the top of my head that I know are Debbie Downers. Ugh.
I have found that I can be a Debbie Downer about myself, but not so much about others. I am much more willing to cut myself down than another person, but that's a topic for another post. I have also found that over the years I am getting better at finding positive things in bad or difficult situations rather than resorting to throwing myself a pity party.
An example of a few Debbie Downers I recently experienced:
I am a software trainer for UW-Madison and am currently training PeopleSoft to all of UW System. So, basically, lately, I have been traveling around the state with others on the PeopleSoft Training Team (who I like, fortunately) and dealing with mostly older state employees that are being confronted with ...gasp!...CHANGE!!!
This is certainly on paper a Debbie Downer situation and we have encountered many Debbie Downers as we traveled around the state, but a particular group of people that I trained took the cake. It was a great example of how a few rotten apples can ruin the whole bunch.
I happened to be training this group of people by myself. I usually have a partner with me so, by design, we can save the other one from a horrible question or take over when one of us is ready to pass out or kill a Debbie Downer. Well, I did not have that luxury on this day.
So, I know it's a rough group when they start coming in a half hour early for class and my manager is telling them that he emailed them that the class doesn't start until 9:00. Mr.Debbie Downer, an old man who had long past retirement age, immediately glowers, "I have a job, you know. I could have used that extra half hour." Then he looks around with his little beady eyes waiting for somebody to apologize to him. I wasn't going to do it and neither did my manager, thank God. If he doesn't read his email, that's not our fault.
Then, as the session gets started I realize I have a major classroom disrupter. The adult version of the kid you send to the office 5 minutes into class every day. Except, this is adult education and you can't send them anywhere or tell them to leave. She interrupts me at least every 5 minutes with a screeching, "QUESTION!". She then would proceed to ask something that has nothing to do with what I'm talking about and stare at me like I'm no better than the dirt beneath her shoe. When I would respond that we will get to that or that we're not really getting that deep into things, she would scoff or continue to ask questions until I had completely forgotten what I was originally talking about.
Then, while Screech Owl is hooting away and others are asking legitimate questions, I have to try to ignore Mr. Debbie Downer right in front of me mumbling to himself and grumbling until he eventually falls asleep, his head hanging awkwardly to the side, mouth slightly open...at least I don't have to deal with him anymore.
I get to explaining how to enter a Floating Holiday into the new system (really exciting stuff, huh?) and my mind is blown at the rudeness and childishness of this group. I explain that a Floating Holiday is like Christmas on a Saturday or any other day an employee wouldn't normally be working and I immediately hear from someone that I hadn't thought was a Debbie Downer, "That's not what a Floating Holiday is!"
Again, not only a rude interruption, but what the hell is she talking about??? I'm sorry, but everyone I've talked to since this session has agreed with me that a Floating Holiday is like Christams on a Saturday. I have no idea what to say, so I ask her what a Floating Holiday is. She just says, pointing to my example on the projector that that is not it. So, basically, she can't articulate to me what a Floating Holiday is, just that what I'm telling people is wrong.
I am getting irritated with her rude, disruptive protestations, so I stop, look at her and say, "Okay, I'm moving on. If you need clarification on what a Floating Holiday is, then you can talk to the subject matter expert."
I was not rude, just direct.
She shuts up and glowers and grumbles in her seat for the rest of the day and the whole next day. And I think, "Is it worth it to expend so much energy on being right on something, to insist that something that is right is wrong? If you are feeling so out of control because of a change, is it fair to attack the messenger that is trying to help you?"
I can tell you this, if she calls me for help, she will be at the bottom of my priority list, as will Screech Owl and the sleeping Mr. Debbie Downer.
In an effort to make the next session better, I create a sheet with a little car on it titled, "Parking Lot". I start class the next day asking participants to please write their questions down rather than just asking them the minute they pop into their heads. I explain that we will stop every half hour or so and go over their "Parking Lot" questions. I expect a comment, but nobody protests.
Well, guess what, Screech Owl wasn't in the room when I explained this and 5 minutes in to class I hear the screeching, "QUESTION!". Ugh. I turn with what I know is a nasty look towards her, but my silver lining begins to glimmer as I realize the class is on my side. The woman next to the owl slams her hand down on the Parking Lot sheet and says, "PARKING LOT!".
I don't hear a peep from Screech Owl for the rest of the day.
I so wanted to laugh and high five the lady that saved me. I was starting to feel like I was going crazy and this lady made me realize that most people are rational and normal and that these bad apples were overtaking the class. Between me and my friend next to Screech Owl, we settled them down.
I could have gone home and cried about this and turned into a Debbie Downer myself, but instead I told people about the sleeping old man, asked them what they thought a Floating Holiday was, and did my best impression of the Screech Owl and we laughed. I validated that it was, in fact, the class that was nuts, not me. And I found the silver lining, however warped it was, that crazy people can be mildly entertaining and that I wasn't the only one in the class suffering at the hands of the Mr. and Ms. Debbie Downers in our class.
Also, as a bonus silver lining, I was telling the story to my husband and imitating Screech Owl by going, "QUESTION! QUESTION!" and my daughter, who is at the age where she imitates everything we do, starts walking around the kitchen going, "QUESTION, QUESTION!"
If a two-year-old hopping around the kitchen imitating an adult who was acting like a two-year-old doesn't make you laugh, then you are a Debbie Downer.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Compare and Despair
I did not come up with this nifty little phrase, so do not credit it to me, but isn't it the truth? I don't know about you, but I think comparing yourself to others can be the quickest route to joylessness. But yet, I do it all the time:
They had tabs for "tools" they refer to in their blog. Tools? For what? I thought this was a mommy blog and I would read something funny about someone else that has a child with grotesque, sticky day-care nose. I didn't know I needed to bring my "tools" or find my "tools".
I read further and find out these tools are things like recipes for organic cleaning products, recipes for healthy food, meal plans, specifically branded plastic bins, etc. I thought, "Well, I can't do this. I have nowhere near the knowledge or resources this person has. Plus, I'm not that organized, happy, perfect."
But then I thought, who is? And how can I be like these super-mom bloggers when they probably do this for a living and I work 40 hours or more a week with a 2 and a half hour commute each day? I barely have time to pick up milk let alone make my own toilet bowl scrub.
Then I thought, these blogs are terrible, how dare these super-moms put this stuff out there and make us struggling moms feel inadequate! What terrible people!
But no, they aren't terrible people, they are doing what they love to do: be organized and on the ball and basically the smug "know-it-all" you all remember from high school. Let's face it, if I didn't have the schedule I did I would probably have the same kind of blog or at least be just as organized as them (maybe). And everything and everyone has its/their place. These sites can actually be helpful if you kind-of edit them down.
I have found that when I stumble upon one of such blogs that it is more helpful to find ONE THING to take away from it that is helpful and not to focus on ALL the things they suggest you do. Otherwise, hyperventilating and self-loathing will set it very quickly. Either that or you will end up at Target or online spending a fortune on plastic storage boxes.
Like I mentioned last time, I think one step at a time is the way to go. With lots of things. Finding joy, mommy blogs, whatever, one step at a time. So cliche, but true.
Another example from what I will now refer to as my "joyless period"...
My husband, Nic, works third shift and I work 8am-4:30pm and have a 1 hour and 15 minute commute each way. Abby, our daughter, needs to eat around 5:30 or 6:00. So, unless I have something ready to go in the fridge to warm up or something in the crock pot, I can't cook and have something on the table by 5:30 or 6:00. My husband likes to cook and is very good at it, but alas, he is male and has zero planning skills or foresight. I would get these calls at about 4:00 at work, "What should we have for dinner tonight?" Or, "Can you pick up chicken, shiitake mushrooms and parsley?"
My response to these calls was always, "What?" And then in my head and sometimes out loud, "What part of cooking dinner don't you understand? Cooking dinner includes picking out a recipe and buying groceries."
Men need to be told this I learned.
So, since I hadn't learned that men need to be told this at least 27 and a half times before it actually sinks in I remembered that I had once heard about "Meal Planning". I thought, what a great idea! I will have a schedule of meals set up and we'll make the same shopping list each week and I can make things on the weekend to have ready for Nic to cook up. It will work so well! I'll just do a little research online on how this works best.
Okay, so I end up on aforementioned intimidating "mommy" blog and this woman is telling me to master the intricacies of the Google calendar, read her recipes, go to this site and get this recipe, set up things so I email myself to remember this or that ingredient, don't forget to make sure I have vegetables secretly hidden in things so Abby isn't malnourished and the hyperventilating begins.
Then before completely dissolving I call my friend and say, "Do you do meal plans?"
She says, "What's that? Rushing to the store after work and buying a box of pasta and a can of sauce?"
I immediately felt better.
So, do we eat dinner? Yes, but we don't "meal plan". Nic now has a set arsenal of recipes that he rotates, some nights we eat leftovers, some nights we make a pizza with a vegetable as a side. On weekends I very rarely cook for the week, but sometimes I make dinner on a Saturday night. It has somehow worked itself out. I just had to keep kind of beating it into him. And I didn't need to inflict the "Super-Mom Meal Plan of the Century for Perfect People" upon our already frantic lifestyle. It would have been way too rigid for us to keep up with. And then, that invites thoughts of failure, "Oh, my God, I can't even stick to the meal plan! I'm no good! My child will now get scurvy." Ridiculous.
One positive thing did happen because of my meal plan adventure. I found a very good recipe for tilapia that my daughter loves and I can prepare it the night before in 10 minutes and have Nic bake it for us while I'm driving home.
Again, my point, one recipe. Not a whole meal plan and all the trimmings. One simple recipe. Joy!
- I should find time to exercise like Midge my co-worker.
- I wish my hair was that color.
- I wish I could go on vacations like my friend Barbie.
- I wish I was more organized like the lady that writes this blog.
- Why does Skipper have it so together and I'm such a mess?
They had tabs for "tools" they refer to in their blog. Tools? For what? I thought this was a mommy blog and I would read something funny about someone else that has a child with grotesque, sticky day-care nose. I didn't know I needed to bring my "tools" or find my "tools".
I read further and find out these tools are things like recipes for organic cleaning products, recipes for healthy food, meal plans, specifically branded plastic bins, etc. I thought, "Well, I can't do this. I have nowhere near the knowledge or resources this person has. Plus, I'm not that organized, happy, perfect."
But then I thought, who is? And how can I be like these super-mom bloggers when they probably do this for a living and I work 40 hours or more a week with a 2 and a half hour commute each day? I barely have time to pick up milk let alone make my own toilet bowl scrub.
Then I thought, these blogs are terrible, how dare these super-moms put this stuff out there and make us struggling moms feel inadequate! What terrible people!
But no, they aren't terrible people, they are doing what they love to do: be organized and on the ball and basically the smug "know-it-all" you all remember from high school. Let's face it, if I didn't have the schedule I did I would probably have the same kind of blog or at least be just as organized as them (maybe). And everything and everyone has its/their place. These sites can actually be helpful if you kind-of edit them down.
I have found that when I stumble upon one of such blogs that it is more helpful to find ONE THING to take away from it that is helpful and not to focus on ALL the things they suggest you do. Otherwise, hyperventilating and self-loathing will set it very quickly. Either that or you will end up at Target or online spending a fortune on plastic storage boxes.
Like I mentioned last time, I think one step at a time is the way to go. With lots of things. Finding joy, mommy blogs, whatever, one step at a time. So cliche, but true.
Another example from what I will now refer to as my "joyless period"...
My husband, Nic, works third shift and I work 8am-4:30pm and have a 1 hour and 15 minute commute each way. Abby, our daughter, needs to eat around 5:30 or 6:00. So, unless I have something ready to go in the fridge to warm up or something in the crock pot, I can't cook and have something on the table by 5:30 or 6:00. My husband likes to cook and is very good at it, but alas, he is male and has zero planning skills or foresight. I would get these calls at about 4:00 at work, "What should we have for dinner tonight?" Or, "Can you pick up chicken, shiitake mushrooms and parsley?"
My response to these calls was always, "What?" And then in my head and sometimes out loud, "What part of cooking dinner don't you understand? Cooking dinner includes picking out a recipe and buying groceries."
Men need to be told this I learned.
So, since I hadn't learned that men need to be told this at least 27 and a half times before it actually sinks in I remembered that I had once heard about "Meal Planning". I thought, what a great idea! I will have a schedule of meals set up and we'll make the same shopping list each week and I can make things on the weekend to have ready for Nic to cook up. It will work so well! I'll just do a little research online on how this works best.
Okay, so I end up on aforementioned intimidating "mommy" blog and this woman is telling me to master the intricacies of the Google calendar, read her recipes, go to this site and get this recipe, set up things so I email myself to remember this or that ingredient, don't forget to make sure I have vegetables secretly hidden in things so Abby isn't malnourished and the hyperventilating begins.
Then before completely dissolving I call my friend and say, "Do you do meal plans?"
She says, "What's that? Rushing to the store after work and buying a box of pasta and a can of sauce?"
I immediately felt better.
So, do we eat dinner? Yes, but we don't "meal plan". Nic now has a set arsenal of recipes that he rotates, some nights we eat leftovers, some nights we make a pizza with a vegetable as a side. On weekends I very rarely cook for the week, but sometimes I make dinner on a Saturday night. It has somehow worked itself out. I just had to keep kind of beating it into him. And I didn't need to inflict the "Super-Mom Meal Plan of the Century for Perfect People" upon our already frantic lifestyle. It would have been way too rigid for us to keep up with. And then, that invites thoughts of failure, "Oh, my God, I can't even stick to the meal plan! I'm no good! My child will now get scurvy." Ridiculous.
One positive thing did happen because of my meal plan adventure. I found a very good recipe for tilapia that my daughter loves and I can prepare it the night before in 10 minutes and have Nic bake it for us while I'm driving home.
Again, my point, one recipe. Not a whole meal plan and all the trimmings. One simple recipe. Joy!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Creating Joy
My husband called me "joyless" recently. It is a fairly startling thing to hear coming from the mouth of your beloved, but I really did nothing more than continue to be joyless that my husband found me joyless. I continued on with the frantic, frenetic, freaked out pace of the full-time working mom. My feet hit the floor in the morning and I moved through my days blind to my emotions and needs, these things not even registering on my constantly circling radar. A radar that focused on:
My husband and family continued to express concern here and there in ways that I know they thought were loud and clear. But they were not aware of the narrow-mindedness, the ultra-focused mind of the triple F (frantic, frenetic, freaked out) working mom. Our radars are not built to catch concern for US. Concern for our child: absolutely number one, concern for work: yes, concern for our husbands: sure, but for ourselves? No.
Shortly after the "joyless" comment I was taking our daughter to daycare on less than favorable roads and a semi hit us. I was driving very cautiously as I must keep my daughter safe and the semi tried to pass me as I was going too slow. He lost control and the cab of his semi smashed into the driver side of my car sending my daughter and I spinning out of control on a major highway during morning rush hour. We landed backwards in the ditch with a thud, completely stuck and in need of help. I soon discovered a metaphor for my state of being; completely stuck and in need of help.
My daughter, Abigail, 22 months, was completely fine after being checked out by EMTs and her pediatrician and as I was calling for help she even asked me to, "put on some music?" I on the other hand, I turned out to be not okay. I didn't even bother to have myself checked out by the EMTs and wouldn't allow a check out for myself at the hospital. I felt fine. And I really did. It wasn't until a couple days later that the creeping, horrible pain began to settle into my neck and travel around my back. What was this? My body was forcing me to think about it. Blast. The last thing I can fit into my triple F working mom life.
I tried chiropractic care and didn't have much success. I really liked her and felt she wanted to help me be well, so of course my friend, and I think the friend of a lot of working moms, guilt kept kicking me when I stopped going and tried to carry on with my working mom life through the pain. My body will not let me continue on, though. I have to believe that this accident happened for a reason. I cannot continue in pain and I cannot continue to be joyless.
I have just had an evaluation with a physical therapist who specializes in neck and back problems and I feel very hopeful at this point. He told me that he doesn't know how I get out of bed every morning and live the life I live with the state my body is in. He doesn't even know the state my mind is in most of the time! But I think working moms feel very much the way I responded to his comment on this. I said, "I have to. I don't really have much of a choice."
But we do. We do have a choice. A choice to stop with the crazy pace of the typical working mom life and to find the joy or create the joy that we have lost from our lives or perhaps never had in our lives. I am going to make the choice to commit to getting physically and mentally well. To me that means the crazy pace of the "working mom" life has to end. Sure, I'm still going to be a working mom, I just have to do it a different way. I need to do it in a way that creates joy in my life instead of crushing it to the point where I emit a cloud of joylessness and despair. I never chose to do that, I think it just happens to so many of us that try to do too much and think that there is no alternative. We build our own personal jails with walls of tasks that MUST be done otherwise we have failed, we are bad moms, wives, employees. This must stop, at least in my life. I'm hoping that choosing to knock down those walls of rigid responsibility will open up a whole new world and let sunlight come streaming back into my life.
Starting this blog is one of the first steps on my list of how to create more joy in my life. I love to write, I always have. Since I was a little girl I would have notebooks full of stories and thoughts and then it just stopped. I realize that I've "just stopped" a lot of things that have brought me joy, but I'm taking things one step at a time. Step One: I'm going to bring the joy of writing back into my life through this blog. Please continue to check back and share your thoughts and experiences as well. I know there are others out there who feel the bonds of the triple F (frantic, frenetic and freaked out) working mom life. Let's break them together!
- What needs to be done next?
- Now what needs to be done?
- Is my child happy?
- Does my child have everything she needs?
- Can I give her more?
- Am I keeping my husband happy?
- Am I going to meet that deadline or do I have to work tonight?
- Do we need milk?
My husband and family continued to express concern here and there in ways that I know they thought were loud and clear. But they were not aware of the narrow-mindedness, the ultra-focused mind of the triple F (frantic, frenetic, freaked out) working mom. Our radars are not built to catch concern for US. Concern for our child: absolutely number one, concern for work: yes, concern for our husbands: sure, but for ourselves? No.
Shortly after the "joyless" comment I was taking our daughter to daycare on less than favorable roads and a semi hit us. I was driving very cautiously as I must keep my daughter safe and the semi tried to pass me as I was going too slow. He lost control and the cab of his semi smashed into the driver side of my car sending my daughter and I spinning out of control on a major highway during morning rush hour. We landed backwards in the ditch with a thud, completely stuck and in need of help. I soon discovered a metaphor for my state of being; completely stuck and in need of help.
My daughter, Abigail, 22 months, was completely fine after being checked out by EMTs and her pediatrician and as I was calling for help she even asked me to, "put on some music?" I on the other hand, I turned out to be not okay. I didn't even bother to have myself checked out by the EMTs and wouldn't allow a check out for myself at the hospital. I felt fine. And I really did. It wasn't until a couple days later that the creeping, horrible pain began to settle into my neck and travel around my back. What was this? My body was forcing me to think about it. Blast. The last thing I can fit into my triple F working mom life.
I tried chiropractic care and didn't have much success. I really liked her and felt she wanted to help me be well, so of course my friend, and I think the friend of a lot of working moms, guilt kept kicking me when I stopped going and tried to carry on with my working mom life through the pain. My body will not let me continue on, though. I have to believe that this accident happened for a reason. I cannot continue in pain and I cannot continue to be joyless.
I have just had an evaluation with a physical therapist who specializes in neck and back problems and I feel very hopeful at this point. He told me that he doesn't know how I get out of bed every morning and live the life I live with the state my body is in. He doesn't even know the state my mind is in most of the time! But I think working moms feel very much the way I responded to his comment on this. I said, "I have to. I don't really have much of a choice."
But we do. We do have a choice. A choice to stop with the crazy pace of the typical working mom life and to find the joy or create the joy that we have lost from our lives or perhaps never had in our lives. I am going to make the choice to commit to getting physically and mentally well. To me that means the crazy pace of the "working mom" life has to end. Sure, I'm still going to be a working mom, I just have to do it a different way. I need to do it in a way that creates joy in my life instead of crushing it to the point where I emit a cloud of joylessness and despair. I never chose to do that, I think it just happens to so many of us that try to do too much and think that there is no alternative. We build our own personal jails with walls of tasks that MUST be done otherwise we have failed, we are bad moms, wives, employees. This must stop, at least in my life. I'm hoping that choosing to knock down those walls of rigid responsibility will open up a whole new world and let sunlight come streaming back into my life.
Starting this blog is one of the first steps on my list of how to create more joy in my life. I love to write, I always have. Since I was a little girl I would have notebooks full of stories and thoughts and then it just stopped. I realize that I've "just stopped" a lot of things that have brought me joy, but I'm taking things one step at a time. Step One: I'm going to bring the joy of writing back into my life through this blog. Please continue to check back and share your thoughts and experiences as well. I know there are others out there who feel the bonds of the triple F (frantic, frenetic and freaked out) working mom life. Let's break them together!
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