Apr 112012
 
Farmers Market

Image by tamaradulva via Flickr

Last year was not what I would call “a good garden year.”  I failed to keep up with the cucumber bugs and they did a number on about a quarter of the garden.  The good news?

  • I visited a lot of local farmers’ markets
  • I discovered a new produce market
  • I learned a lot

On a trip to the produce market, I watched an “employee” stand on his tiptoes to dump crushed ice on to one of the displays.  At the same time, his “employer” let him know that when he was finished with that task there was a label gun with his name on it.

Across the aisle, one of the managers said, “It’s hard for him.”

The employer responded, “I know.  That’s OK.  It’s good for him. He’ll figure it out.”

By now you’ve probably guessed that this is a family-run business and that the “employer”  and “manager”  are parents.  The  “employee” in question is their ten-year-old.  Naturally, I couldn’t resist complimenting them on letting their child participate in the family business.  The Mom (who had cautioned about the difficulties of icing displays) was happy to chat.  She was quick to let me know that her son preferred to come work with them than be with a sitter or  play with friends.  She and her husband we excited that their son was learning some of the skills and attitudes that had helped them build a successful business.

We all work hard to give our kids “the best”  and long hours can sometimes leave them wondering why we are gone so much of the time… sometimes even wondering if we like being at work more than we like being with them.  At the other end of the spectrum are parents who work from home but too often use their children as an excuse to not work the business like a business and then complain that others don’t take  them seriously.

What does your relationship with work look like from your child’s point of view?  What do they actually know about what you do?  And, is there a way they can get to know that part of your life?

Jan 242012
 
English: France in 2000 year (XXI century). Fu...

Image via Wikipedia

One of the things I love about my work is the opportunity to collaborate with some wonderful people.  In a phone call last week one of them commented on some significant changes she had noticed in my work.   “The gloves are off” is how she described the change.  “How did you do that?”

The short answer?  I stopped caring.  While parents, kids and families matter more now than ever, I quit bothering myself about  things that other people tell me I should care about.  Instead of obsessing about “traffic” and “reach” and “influence”  and “metrics,” I’m back to being me: sharing good content as often as I can, trusting that it will reach someone who will benefit from it… when they need to connect with it.

It’s not that I don’t need or want feedback.  I like to learn… but it was getting in the way.

So how did I learn to stop caring? The way I learn best:  the hard way.

I worried and fretted. I checked and measured… and drove myself half insane.  Then, as it sometimes does, life added some stresses of its own.  For the privacy of those involved I will say only that some people I care deeply about faced some very difficult circumstances.  To make matters worse, there was nothing I could do to help.

What’s that got to do with parenting?  Or the Four Foundations?  Quite a lot, actually.

Tough times can make us bitter or make us better.   If we pay attention, illness, injury and error can reconnect us to what matters most.  It’s similar to what happens when we realize we can’t smooth all the bumps in the road our kids will travel: we decide to teach them to navigate the bumps.  And with that learning comes a level of fearlessness that frees us to give our best efforts and “let go” of the results.

When we share this attitude with our kids they often become too busy “taking care of business” to hear the warnings from the people who want to tell them they’re doomed to fail!

Dec 292011
 

Many years of work in the recovery community taught me a lot.  The past two weeks have served to remind me of the gajillion and six times I’ve said (and heard) this:  “Plan plans, not results.”

My husband and I had a fairly elaborate holiday schedule lined up:  a few short trips together to be with part of our family, “divide and conquer” to connect with the rest.  We had planned a stretched-out Christmas celebration that would allow one or both of us to be face-to-face with about three fourths of our large extended family.  Parents.  Adult kids. Sibs.  Grandbabies.

Joy!

When we woke up on the day I was to shuttle him to the airport we were handed an unexpected twist: hacking coughs and high fevers all around.  So it was off to Urgent Care rather than “Departures,” the druggist rather than dinner.  We stuffed our TSA-friendly packages into an Express Mail box and dragged to the post office counter with about an hour to spare.  And with that, Christmas was cancelled.  (Or at least what was left of it was postponed for awhile.)

As a result of the plans we had made there were no ingredients for a special dinner.  Since we were the “designated road warriors” there was no Christmas tree.  Apparently each of us intended to finish up our gifts for the other on the two days we were to be apart.

Somewhere along the line we pronounced it officially the weirdest Christmas ever.

A couch.  A love seat.  Pillows, blanket and dogs.  Juice, tissues and cough drops. Soup from the freezer and cinnamon toast for dessert. Short, sweet “I love you’s” by text and a few by phone.  A long distance video Yankee Swap gift exchange.  Laughing at ourselves and each other. Sleeping a lot. Finding the line between “disappointed about plans” and “making the best of the moment.”  OD’ing on movies. And, to top it off, while watching A Christmas Story, realizing neither of us felt well enough even to fetch Chinese takeout.

And wondering about whether or not we managed to teach our kids that sometimes not getting what you want can be a wonderful thing.

English: Maggie tired from watching her doggie...

Sometimes not getting what you want can be a wonderful thing. (Image via Wikipedia)