believe.

"I totally believe in magic.  Magical things have come true for me time after time after time." - Stevie Nicks

(and if my girl Stevie says it, you know it's true.)

I have some news to share this month.  I am pleased (and surprised) to announce that this month marks three full years of The Little Things!  That's right - my little blog about nothing in particular is entering it's fourth year!  I can't believe the blog is going to be four.  It's growing up so fast...where does the time go? 

(I don't mean to brag, but I recently had a parent/teacher conference at the blog's preschool and was told the blog has excellent fine motor skills and is able to follow complicated sets of instructions.  They also said the blog is also able to get itself dressed for outdoor winter play without any help from a teacher...that includes snow boots and mittens!  (Between you and me I am also pretty confident the blog is reading way above grade level.))

Obviously, I'm more than a little looped.  

It's the holidays people.

The 2014 holiday challenge in our house has been the "big question".  The how-exactly-do-the-toys-get-under-the-tree-and-who-puts-them-there question.  My eight year-old son has been asking very pointed questions about the jolly old purveyor of Christmas loot, and I, like any good parent, have been aggressively dodging them.  (*My new book Parenting Made Easy by Pretending You Can't Hear 'Cause You're in the Shower is due for release in April of 2015*).

I'm finding that rather than focusing on the details of the actual toy distribution it is much easier to simply focus on the magic.  The idea that the impossible can sometimes be possible - no matter how much our logical minds tell us it can't be.  Just because something is improbable, I tell my son, doesn't mean it is impossible.

After all, David conquered Goliath didn't he?  How could a small shepherd boy with nothing more than a rock and a sling take down a trained warrior three times his size?  (*For a great interview with Malcolm Gladwell on the story of David and Goliath click here.)   Or more recently, Malala Yousafzai was shot by a Taliban fighter for defending her right (and the rights of all children) to an education and became the youngest Nobel Peace Prize laureate in history at just 17 years old.  (I can't stop reading about this girl...obsessed.)

I'm not suggesting these amazing stories were the result of magic...just that sometimes the improbable is, in fact, possible.  

I'm also not saying that magic always has to be so monumental.  My cousin, for example, is donating her time at a school teaching children about gardening and nutrition.  Magic.  My neighbor (and friend) takes in foster dogs until they can find loving families in permanent homes.  Magic.  Toys For Tots, The United Way and The Salvation Army - all making magic happen for families in need this time of year.  Want to make some magic happen yourself?  Click here.

I want to believe in magic.  Not just for my kids, but for me.  

I have to believe the holidays are more than a sanity test to see how much the average American mom can take before she cracks in half and eats an entire box of Christmas cookies she bought at the PTA fundraiser (not that I did that).  There is more to this season than twice weekly Target runs and unopened Amazon boxes piling up in the garage...I just know there is.  Because I've seen it.

So while I can't bring myself to look my son in the eye and tell him something I believe to be untrue, I have no problem explaining to him all the ways I believe magic really has and really is happening around us all the time.  Then I try to end the conversation by saying that if it wasn't for magic I could never have ended up with a kid like him. 

...and who could argue with that kind of logic?  (wink)

Happy holidays friends.

xoxo - juli

a fresh set of eyes.

You may have noticed the blog has moved back to Facebook.  My husband (who has me beat when it comes to the Internet) told me it was "pain in the ass" to find the blog through Instagram.  I should've run this little field study on a test subject before announcing the big move, but I didn't.  So here we are.  

November was weird.  It's funny, sometimes you don't realize what a routine your life is until you break away from it for a while. This is what this past month has been for me.  We have a family schedule, we have work schedules, I (try to) keep a social schedule, etc...the wheels just keep on turning.

I recently learned that the term for this is "unconscious competence".  When you get so good at or used to doing something that you don't realize you're doing it anymore.  Like driving from your house to your office in the morning...sometimes you arrive and you don't know how you got there (let's assume you haven't been drinking).  In some ways, a whole life can become this way; a series of similar and repetitive events.  Until one day, something changes.

November 10th was when things changed for me.  It was the first day of a week-long conference centered around Diversity and Inclusion in a charming little Arizona town called Tubac (just north of the Mexican border).  I'm both interested and passionate about diversity in the workplace and how it can strengthen a company while empowering employees.  I was also interested and passionate about getting out of New Hampshire for a week now that the winter chill has settled over New England.  

I spent four days with twenty five other professionals from various companies in this chapel:

It was amazing.

I'm not going to go through the four days in this post for a couple of reasons.  First, it would be impossible to summarize the workshop and second, it would come out all wrong.  For a week I was completely outside my comfort zone both physically and mentally.  I met new people, had difficult conversations and witnessed the way others perceive the world.  It was gritty, it was uncomfortable, and at times the conversations were a bit messy.  Obviously, I loved it.  If you're interested in learning more here's the link to the consulting group that puts these "experiential labs" on:  http://wmfdp.com/ 

The lab was facilitated by two women and this guy, Bill Proudman:

https://www.womenetics.com/Article/ArtMID/2681/ArticleID/2563/bill-proudman-diversity-partners

The best way to explain my time in Tubac is that when I left, my heart - and my eyes felt a little different.

Friday morning when the workshop ended I packed up my things and headed to the airport in my rental car.  It was about 5:30 in the morning and still pretty dark when I was stopped by border patrol at a checkpoint on the highway.  

Needless to say, this is a relatively atypical situation for a girl from New Hampshire to find herself in.  I'm accustomed to handing an officer my license and registration when I get stopped, so I didn't understand the man at first when he asked me "Are you a US citizen?"  He kinda said it fast and mumbly so I didn't 100% understand him.  My response was "What?"  To which he replied "I SAID ARE YOU A U.S. CITIZEN?"

He yelled it.  Pretty much in my face.  I nervously responded "yes" and then answered a number of questions about where I'd been, where I was heading, and if I had any people that were not easily visible in my vehicle.  After a quick sniff (literally, by dogs) of my rental car I was on my way.  Just to be clear, I was not at the border of Mexico and the United States... I was already in the country - this was just a random checkpoint. 

As I drove off in my rented mini-van, the sun was rising.  The morning Arizona sun was lighting the mountains up bright pink and the horizon was orange.  I blinked my eyes a few times and reminded myself how there are all these worlds happening every day, all day, outside of the one I know.  

I squinted my eyes hard against the early morning glow as I drove...they felt different.

I arrived to the airport on time, returned the car and got through security in enough time to grab a coffee and a bunch of celebrity rags.  Why do I only read US Weekly and People when I'm on an airplane?  It's like ordering tomato juice.  You don't know why you do it, you just do.

When I boarded my flight home I noticed the front row of the airplane was filled with members of the military, all in full dress.  There was a woman sitting next to them crying quietly to herself.  After all the passengers were on board the pilot informed us that our flight was transporting a fallen soldier back home to New Hampshire and to please stay seated upon landing to allow his widow and escorts to de-board the plane first.  The whole flight felt surreal.  

When we landed in Manchester the runway was lined with military personnel, police officers and firemen - all standing at attention, waiting for our plane.  When the plane finally stopped moving the widow and her escorts stood up, and as instructed, everyone remained in their seats.  Then altogether, as though on queue, all the passengers started clapping.  

Eventually, everyone was standing at their seats and clapping for the woman as she walked out the door and up the ramp.  She turned to nod her head at us and I could see that both of our eyes were full with tears.  I've never been that close to bravery or so touched by sacrifice as I was in that moment.  I wiped my watery eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, and when I opened them - everything looked different. 

I had a fresh set of eyes.

I had spent an entire week trying to understand how people different from myself see the world.  But it was my travels home that changed the way the world looked to me.  As I sat alone at the baggage claim in a trance-like state reflecting back on the trip I thought to myself - 'So what now?  What do I do with these new eyes?'

I'll use them to remind myself that though I may be the star of my own show, there are countless other plays happening every second of every day that bear no resemblance to mine.  I'll use them to see that everyone takes the world in differently.  I'll use them to recognize the privileges I consider normal and the safety I take for granted.  I'll do the only thing a person can do once their eyes have been opened wider...I'll use them to see.

Scardey Cat.

Happy Halloween faithful readers!  Welcome to the new and improved absolutely no different version of TLT!  I'm so happy you decided to keep following along via Insta.  I love Instagram...I really do.  Reasons why Instagram is better than Facebook (all opinion, no fact):

1. INSTAGRAM FILTERS.  Having a meh day?  Feeling bad about yourself?  Take a selfie and apply an Instagram filter.  Nothing but blue skies ahead.
2. There are no politics or other depressing crap in your Instagram feed.

I was going to make the list longer, but really those two reasons are good enough for me.

So now that we are all in agreement that this is the best place for The Little Things to live let's get on to the topic du jour - or the topic du month as it were (I took Spanish in high school, not French).  This month I thought (much like I do every month) that I had absolutely nothing to say.  And wouldn't you know it...on the last day of the month, at the eleventh hour, just as there was not going to be an October post it came to me.

Fear.  Fear is the hot topic around this house these days.

First, today is Halloween, and Halloween is inherently scary right?  Second, my little girl is entering the 'I'm-scared-of-absolutely-everything' stage in life.  She is afraid of monsters, she is afraid of the dark, she is afraid to be in a room by herself, she is afraid of bears, wolves...name it.  Third, there is Ebola.  I don't feel like I really need to elaborate on that as we have all had quite enough of the "e" word for one month.

I have spent many hours in the past month assuring my daughter that there is no need to be afraid of ghosts and assuring my son there is no need to be afraid of Ebola (yes, unfortunately, my eight year old knows about Ebola...don't judge).  Frankly, both of those things scare the hell out of me - but then again, I have always been a bit of a scardey cat.  I realize this is nuts, but ever since watching the movie 'The Sixth Sense' I still take a running start to get into bed at night.  I will not stand beside a bed in a dark room for fear that some poor little girl with dark circles under her eyes is going to grab me by the ankles.  Truth.

*scary as hell*

So how are we, as parents supposed to assure our kids there is no need to be scared when we have fears of our own?  I'm sure your fears look different than mine, but we all have them...don't we?  As I was writing this post and thinking about all the things that one could possibly fear a crazily serendipitous (I spelled that word right on the first try) thing happened.  A Jehovah Witness knocked on my front door.  This is happening real time friends - this literally JUST HAPPENED as I was typing this post.

I opened the front door (seemed rude not to) for the woman who was holding a Bible and some pamphlets.  Her first words to me were "Hello, I am here today to talk about what a scary place the world has become and to ask you if you think the world is getting better, getting worse, or staying the same."  I see...multiple choice.

 My response was "are you asking me?" to which she responded "yes".  I didn't even have to pause before I said "I think it is getting better."  She looked surprised and wanted to know why of course.  Right about now I am thinking this was a pretty heavy conversation to have with a total stranger at my front door.  But then, my response came so quickly and so easily that I was sure I couldn't be bullshitting.  I said this:

"I believe in human enlightenment.  I believe we are getting better with every passing generation.  I believe that with every war, every senseless death and every wrong we witness we are learning that the only way we are all going to live together on this planet for generations to come is by treating other people with the grace and kindness we all deserve - by taking care of one another."

To which she replied "Oh."  Then she asked me my name, thanked me for my time and asked me if I would keep a pamphlet.  Sure I will I said - I held up two fingers in a peace sign and thanked her for stopping by.  She was nice and was also sporting a super fancy suit which tells me she takes her work seriously.  Well done Pauline (that was her name).

I am always amazed at what an interesting series of events life often is.  I shut the door and said to myself - 'well, now I know how this blog post ends'.  Despite the fact that I may still hold onto some childish fears I am not a child anymore.  I am able to rationalize the things that scare me and frame them in a healthy way.  So I guess that is my responsibility to my kids (who are not yet able to do this).  Not to tell them that the world is a perfect place, or that there is never any need to be afraid, but rather to help ease the fears they do have with the reasoned mind of an adult.

Tonight I am going to enjoy a glass or two of spiked cider, put on my traditional witch's costume, hit a friend's haunted house and make this most of all this spooky fun.  Then I am going to go upstairs alone and force myself to stand next to the bed in a dark room - because sure, we're all afraid of something...but I'm no scardey cat.

quiet time

There is something about Autumn in New England that just makes you super-duper-can't-ignore-it aware of the fact that the seasons are a'changing.  There are very obvious behaviors and queues in my house that let me know I am officially diving into the season of oranges and reds.  Objects that will offend me by February feel like long lost friends I haven't seen for six months in September. 

Things like:

~ wool socks
~ the crock pot
~ granny nighties (don't judge)
~ extra blankets
~ storm doors


It is hard to resist the urge to "Fall-ify" the house for the changing season.  I don't usually give tips on the blog but I am going to make an exception to introduce one of my fav Fall decos.  The apple votive holder.  Carve out the top of an apple and stick a tea light in it.  The end.  The beauty of this is that even if you're not crafty it will make you feel like you are.  You can do this with baby pumpkins too - so cute.  

(If that image doesn't put you in the mood to mull some cider on the stove I don't know what will.)

The colors on the leaves aren't the only things I notice changing this time of year - my mood changes too.  It took me a while to catch on to it, but I know this about myself now.  I'm pretty sure there's a name for it...something that rhymes with Measonal Lapsective Misporter.  Otherwise known as seasonal depression.  I used to try to fight the way my mood changed with the seasons, but I've stopped.  

The last few years I have been recognizing it, surrendering to it, and accepting it more.  Not surprisingly, it affects me less as a result.  In Spring I tend to feel energetic, in Winter I tend to feel (overly) heady, in Summer I tend to feel carefree and in the Fall I feel, well...quiet.

The word 'quiet' keeps coming up in conversation these days.  After nearly ten years of small children and full-time work the word 'quiet' is perhaps now my favorite word in the English language.  When you think about it, almost everything has a quiet period at some point in time.  

A family can have a quiet period, a marriage can have a quiet period, a friendship can have a quiet period and a life can have one too.  A time when there is nothing major happening.  No babies are being born, no houses are being sold, no jobs are being changed and no illness is being tended to.  Just quiet.

The quiet Autumn brings has come to be one of my favorite things about this time of year.  There's finally time to pick up the book that has been staring you down all summer.  There's time to go for a solo walk in the woods, or paint that piece of furniture or remove the contents of an overgrown closet just to make some sense of it.

There's time to lay on the couch and watch Beaches just because you can.  

Fall is palpable.  You can almost feel yourself soaking it in through your skin and breathing it back out into the chilly air.  Give yourself permission to "go dark" a little and just be still on the inside.  Then take a well-deserved minute to enjoy the quiet.

"Sometimes I have so much to say, and sometimes my soul falls silent." ~ Michelle Gardella

you win.

My company (like most large companies) ranks its employees based on their strengths, skills, and areas in need of development once a year.  Senior leaders get together to discuss the individuals on their team and categorize them into groups based on their achievements and future potential.  This ranking systems also correlates to the annual salary increases each employee will see at the start of the new year (high rank = more money).  This process is accepted as standard practice and most everyone, including myself, agrees it is both necessary and fair.

I was having a hallway conversation with a colleague about employee ranking as it relates to salary.  You know, just typical office banter, things like:  What do you think raises will look like this year?  Do you think we will meet our sales targets for fourth quarter?  Do you feel like Indian for lunch?

We started talking about some of the benefits associated with a high ranking.  My colleague offhandedly (and half jokingly) said something like "We all know the best part about being ranked high isn't really the money, it's just knowing that you are better than everyone else."    

Hum.  I had never really thought about my work as a win/lose situation before.  In my nearly sixteen years with he same company I have never compared my performance to that of my peers or wanted a high rank for any reason other than the satisfaction of being appreciated (it also typically means job security which is always nice).  Every time I have received praise or recognition for my work I have always been honored and grateful for being recognized - but I never saw it as winning.  Should I?

I have always been content with being a good student, a good team member, a good employee and a good earner - but I have never had the urge to be the best at anything.  That's not to say I am lazy, complacent or confidence lacking.  I am a typical only child - overachieving Type-A personality and I literally never stop moving.  I'm productive, just not competitive...but why?  Am I missing a "winners gene"?

My son is getting to the age where he is into competitive sports.  He is playing football this Fall and I am totally blown away with the level of seriousness surrounding a football team that is called the "Tiny Mites".  It's like the NFL for first graders.  There are weigh-ins, serious practices and scrimmages.  Right now he is eating, sleeping and breathing football.  These boys are being worked hard to understand teamwork, commitment, sportsmanship...and eventually, to be winners. 

All this competitive energy got me reflecting about times I have won in my own life.  Aside from a couple of small scholarships, some workplace recognition and a few softball trophies from elementary school I came up pretty much empty.  I don't usually win things, and there is a very good reason for that...it's because I don't compete.  

Winning or being better than someone else at something literally never even crosses my mind.  Even in high school when I played sports the truth is I really didn't care if my team won - I just loved the excitement, hanging out with girlfriends, and goofing off on the bus on the way home from games.  So I had to ask myself:  "If someone doesn't have the desire to win, does that make them a loser?" and "What is the difference between winning and success - are they one in the same?"  

Let's see what the handy dandy internet has to say, shall we?

1. win

   win/

   verb

   1. 1.

      be successful or victorious in (a contest or conflict).

      "the Mets have won four games in a row"

      synonyms:

      take, be the victor in, be the winner of, come first in, take first prize in,triumph in, be successful in

   
   
2. suc·cess

   səkˈses/

   noun

   1. the accomplishment of an aim or purpose.

      "the president had some success in restoring confidence"

      synonyms:

      favorable outcome, successfulness, successful result, triumph;

What I thought was interesting is that 'success' is actually used in the definition of 'win' while 'win' is not used in the definition of 'success'.  So in order to win you need to be successful, but in order to be successful you do not necessarily need to win.  Makes sense to me.  I already had the feeling this was the case but if the internet says it's true it must be.  Everything on the internet is true right?

John Wooden (aka "Coach"), coached the UCLA basketball team from the late 1940's until 1975 (and is generally regarded as the best college basketball coach in history).  He literally wrote his own definition of success based on his upbringing, years of teaching English and coaching "youngsters".  He said this:

"Success is peace of mind, which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you made the effort to become the best of which you are capable."

He also said this...

...along with a number of other brilliant things.  There is still debate over whether it was John Wooden or Maya Angelou who originally spoke one of my favorite quotes which is "Nothing will work unless you do."  If you have the time check out this Ted Talk he did on the difference between winning and success at the age of ninety one - it's kinda amazing:

https://www.ted.com/talks/john_wooden_on_the_difference_between_winning_and_success

If someone is inherently competitive and has a strong internal desire to be the best at something, then challenging themselves and dominating in that area - whether it be academically, professionally or athletically - is just what they should do.  They should try to win.  The world needs people like this.  Without them there would be no professional sports, elected officials or game shows - and who wants to live in a world without Jeopardy?

Sometimes however, winning might not look the way you expect it to.  Winning might mean starting your own company or planting a garden that feeds your family.  It could be learning a new language or delivering your baby at home.  It might mean losing weight or quitting smoking or going one hundred straight days without a drink.  It could be successfully home schooling three kids or having a happy marriage that lasted sixty seven years.  

These things all count as victories in my book.  No one will congratulate you and there won't be a sticker to put in the rear window of your SUV, but you've won just the same.  You were successful - you reached a personal goal.  (*side note:  imagining bumper stickers that represent all the achievements I listed above makes me giggle - especially the home birth one.  Those ladies deserve a sticker to put on the rear window of their car, like for real.)

This Fall, as I watch my son on the football field looking way too grown-up in all his "full pads" glory I hope he will be able to experience some small, personal victories.  And if he wants to win on the football field or anywhere else in life I hope he tries like hell - but I also hope that winning alone doesn't determine his happiness.  One day he will see that it is only the goals you set and successfully reach on your own - for yourself, your life, and your family that matter.

So I'm pretty sure I confirmed my suspicion that yes, I am missing the winning gene...and that's okay. Because every morning that I wake up healthy, in a house full of happy people I have the quiet peace of mind that comes from knowing that albeit humble, I have already reached my goal.  

the head stand.

I used to question women who said "My child is my greatest teacher".  The grad student in me thought: 'Get a life lady.  If your three-year old is your greatest teacher then maybe you need to switch schools.'  It humbles me to say I am becoming one of "those" women.  Honestly, if it weren't for my seven-year old son, I may never have grown up at all.

That very same thinks-he's-wicked-cool-going-into-second-grade son was showing off like seven-year olds do.  He was trying to do a head stand (yes, a head stand) on a basketball court and wasn't exactly able to pull it off.  The result of this failed attempt was minor road rash from his chin to his forehead and every facial part in between.  It was a totally sad/cute/endearing/non-life threatening kid injury.  While I felt sorry for him I was mostly grateful for the safety lesson he had learned...I was also happy he didn't knock out his two front teeth.  

Once the dust settled and the antibiotic ointment was applied we all re-grouped and tucked ourselves in for another night of summer slumber.  The following morning my scab-covered  boy was up for absolutely nothing.  He was tired, sore and (I speculate) embarrassed about his physical appearance.  I took one look at him and gave him permission to take it easy for the day and generally avoid contact with the outside world.  

While cancelling his commitments for that day it was suggested to me that I was more concerned with the cosmetic effects of the accident rather than the medical aspect of his scrape.  My initial reaction was to become defensive.  I was NOT worried about his looks.  I was ONLY concerned about his well being and health...you know, the same way a doctor would be.  How dare someone suggest I was concerned with his "beauty", as it was put.

After I had a chance to cool off and put my bruised ego aside I was able to be honest with myself.  I absolutely do think his little face is beautiful - the same way every mom in the world feels when she looks at her child.  And I am, after all, the same girl who has an Instagram profile that reads like this: 

"Amateur blogger.  Lover of all things beautiful (including but not limited to) New Hampshire, gardens, junk art, books, lipstick, barns and people."

I also belong to a committee in my town that is actually called the "Beautification Committee" (we plant flowers around town and decorate for holidays and whatnot).  So you see, the irony of this situation was not lost on me.

Here I am a self-proclaimed lover of all things beautiful, but I couldn't admit to feeling that my own son was one of them.  Why did the accusation of being concerned with beauty make me feel so superficial and character lacking?  Why do I go out of  my way to create as much beauty as possible in my home and in my life anyway? 

I've spent the last week kicking those questions around in my mind and I think I may have an answer.  My truth is that this world and this life are not always beautiful.  Things like war, neglect, hunger, abuse and loneliness are very real evidence of that.  Whether we like it or not there are daily reminders of ugly human behavior all around us (even if you don't watch FOX News).  If we don't let the beauty of life and people fill up most of the space inside of us other things will find a way to creep in and fill that space.

So I have slowly and maybe subconsciously elected to focus on the beauty.  That's not to say I don't acknowledge, respect and sometimes experience the things that happen in this world that are often out of our control.  It just means that when I have the opportunity to create or enjoy the beauty of life I jump at it.  

I try to fill my space up with the way my moms eyes look when she laughs, or the way my daughters hair is a rat nest when she wakes up in the morning.  When someone holds the door open for someone else when they are walking into the pharmacy, when the sky is pink at dusk, when we share a meal with friends, when the birds are chirping out my window before I open my eyes, when the very first signs of Spring appear or the very first snow of Winter falls.

Beautiful.  All of it (including my sons scratched up, banged up face).  

Summer really lends itself to beauty in nature.  You would actually have to try pretty hard to avoid the beauty this time of year brings.  Take as much of it in as you possibly can.  And if you have the opportunity to create something beautiful for someone else, take it - because the world really is so beautiful and life really is so short.

the pause button.

When you are measuring time against the growth of small children it moves fast - sometimes too fast.  I am starting to see why parents of older kids are always telling new parents  'Enjoy it!  It goes by so fast!'  I try to slow life down a bit (which is of course impossible) by doing creative "shuffling".  I move appointments, cancel plans, run three errands at a time or do two things at once.  I love folding five loads of laundry while I am on a conference call.  In my mind, I just won that hour back.  

Still, no matter how efficiently I schedule my days or productively I use my time, there are still moments I just really want to hit the pause button on the giant flat-screen of life and have time stand still for a minute.  Times I wish the whole world would stop moving around me so I could catch my breath, take it all in, and enjoy.

Time is a strange thing.  We're constantly spending it, yet there is no way to really go back and be sure we got our money's worth.  Speaking of money, let's take online banking as an example.  I can hop online whenever I please and see where every penny I spent in the last day, week or month went.  Heck, my bank even generates a handy-dandy little pie chart off to the right of my purchases to show me what percentage of my spending went toward utilities/entertainment/mortgage, etc.  My itemized purchases might look something like this (or since these are actual charges, exactly like this):

06/10/2014
PURCHASE / 06-09-14 RITE AID STORE #10 MILFORD NH
  $50.00
06/10/2014
PURCHASE / 06-07-14 WHITE DUCK CAR WAS MILFORD NH
  $10.00
06/10/2014
PURCHASE / 06-09-14 BRUSTER'S ICE CREA NASHUA NH
  $4.49
06/09/2014
PURCHASE / 06-08-14 MOULTON[S MARKET AMHERST NH
  $23.57
06/09/2014
PURCHASE / 06-06-14 LOWES #01907* BEDFORD NH
  $161.99
06/06/2014
PURCHASE / 06-06-14 Amazon Video On Demand WA
  $1.99

I have no idea who charged that $4.49 at Bruster's Ice Cream on 6/9 on her way home from work.  I mean on their way home from work.  I mean I don't know who would ever get an ice cream on their way home from work.  Must have been for the kids (cough).

Wouldn't it be interesting to see your day and the way you spent your time itemized that clearly for your review?  An average day might look like:

06/10/2014

6:03-6:35  WATCHED CURIOUS GEORGE AND CUDDLED
6:36-7:15  SHOWERED AND MADE COFFEE
7:15-7:31  DRANK SAID COFFEE AND GOT KIDS READY FOR SCHOOL
7:32-8:24  COMMUTE  (LISTENED TO NPR AND CHATTED WITH MOM)
8:25-8:39  GOT MORE COFFEE, ATE BREAKFAST AND POWERED UP COMPUTER
8:40-9:22  READ EMAILS FROM NIGHT BEFORE AND CHECKED BANK ACCOUNTS
9:23-9:37  DISCUSSED SLEEPING HABITS OF THREE YEAR OLD WITH A COWORKER

Holy crap is my life boring, but you get the point.  I think even the most productive among us would probably be surprised to see a break-down of how wisely we are spending our time.  I wonder what changes, if any, we would make if we all had the online banking view of time spent?  

This is a great clip on work/life balance and how to make the most of your time that I recently caught during a lunch workshop.  It's so funny to hear the speaker describe how he thought he would be spending his time as compared to how he actually ended up spending it - take a listen:

http://www.ted.com/talks/nigel_marsh_how_to_make_work_life_balance_work


We have all heard the expressions 'time is money' or 'time is our most valuable resource'.  I'll take it a step further and say I think it's fair to say that asking for someone's time is the same as asking for a little piece of their life.  Rather than saying "Hey, do you have some time today to review the reports you sent me last week?" we should just say "Hey, can I have a little bit of your life today to review the reports you sent me last week?"  After all, that's what we're really asking for right?  A little crumb of time - and we have no idea how big the cookie is.

My husband has many wonderful qualities, but punctuality is not one of them.  I have this sideways theory on his chronic tardiness that he has a hard time swallowing.  I say that if someone is waiting for you, being late is the same as saying that your time is more important than theirs.  It sends a quiet message that you feel it is okay for them to waste their time waiting for you, because whatever activity caused your tardiness is more important than the activity they had to forego to be on time.  It's a passive insult.  When I say things like this I can almost see the little cartoon bubble floating above his head that reads:

The positive side of that coin is acknowledging the gift of someone else's time when they choose to spend it with you.  In New Hampshire we get about twenty beautiful, sunny Saturdays per year...on a good year.  Only about half of those twenty Saturdays fall during the summer months.  Those summer Saturdays are precious.  When a friend or family member chooses to spend their sunny Saturday afternoon with us I take it as a compliment, that they value our time together enough to spend it at our home visiting, eating, whatever.  Because after all, it's their summer Saturday afternoon too, and there's only so many of them.

We can multi-task all we want.  We can organize our busy lives into perfect fifteen minute increments to maximize our time - but it's all for nothing if we're not enjoying the time we spend.  

Summer has arrived (insert excited squeal here).  

It is your season and it is your time.  You get to decide how to spend it best and who best to spend it with.  And when that perfect summer moment arrives, that rare sunny day when the air smells like cut grass, the drink in your hand is cold and the people you love are smiling - close your eyes.  And hit the pause button.

*Thank you for the time you took to read this.  I thoroughly enjoyed the time it took me to write it (wink).*

the confidence gap.

My three year old daughter was up to no good, which is absolutely nothing new for her.  She was doing something I had asked her repeatedly and nicely not to do and (of course) she kept right on doing it anyway.  When I had finally had enough and told her that was the end of making the huge mess she was making she looked at me and said 'Sorry Mom, I'm just a little girl.' (which sounded like 'ghoul' in her toddler accent).  Her inflection made it sound so small, insignificant and stupid to be a girl that I immediately dropped to my knees, looked her very seriously in the eye and said "don't ever say just a little girl honey, one little girl can do anything, a little girl can change the whole world."

I didn't plan that speech at all.  I never would have guessed that hearing her belittle her gender would affect me the way it did.  I never gave much thought to the things I would say to my daughter or how they would vary (if they would vary) from the things I said to my son when he was the same age - after all, kids are kids right?  

Turns out no.  I find myself giving her very different "talks" in those quiet moments before bed or when it is just the two of us in the car and I have her attention.  I notice I am building her self confidence from a different angle than the one I took with my son.  Frankly, it's surprised me.  The older she gets the more I'm noticing the way I choose my words as they relate to gender equality.

I think it is safe to say I am a feminist.  I embrace my gender and all things female with arms wide open.  I make a point not to get religious or political with the blog, so don't get nervous.  It's just the topic of women and our general awesomeness is one that has been on my mind a lot lately.  As I age I only become more amazed by how resilient and unstoppable we women are.  

I spend a disproportionate amount of time thinking and reading about the female role over the course of history and how the work of women has shaped families and civilizations.  I want to believe that by now gender equality is just a given (all equality for that matter), but since we're still talking about it...it's not.

A colleague of mine sent me this article called "The Confidence Gap" written by Katty Kay and Claire Shipman.  It's long but worth the read:

http://www.theatlantic.com/features/archive/2014/04/the-confidence-gap/359815/

The article talks about how women hold themselves back from positions of power by convincing ourselves we aren't qualified.  Our humility keeps us feeling like we somehow arrived to this place in life through a series of fortunate events, and not by virtue of working hard and being rightfully rewarded for our efforts.  It talks about how the same test was given to two groups consisting of female and male subjects.  The women interviewed after leaving the test reported feeling that they "did okay" while their male counterparts thought they killed it.  In the end, their scores were the same.

For some reason I can remember third grade like it was yesterday.  My super sweet, super southern, super awesome teacher Miss Finnegan was going over some complicated third grade math concept on the chalk board.  She had lost me and I had no idea what the hell she was talking about.  She turned around and asked "Is everyone following me?  Do you see what I just did?  Raise your hand if you didn't understand."  Nobody raised their hand.  I started to have anxiety and thought to myself 'I am the only person who doesn't understand this.  I will never be good at Math.  Everyone in this class is smarter than me.'

Looking back I can almost guarantee there were other kids in the class who didn't get that tricky third grade Math.  Like me, they were probably too embarrassed to raise their hand and admit they needed a little more time with the concept.  Or maybe I just really do suck at Math.  Either way, the point here is I started with negative self talk about my abilities and qualifications at the tender age of eight.  It took me until my late 20's to turn that shit around and I'll be damned if my daughter sits in class thinking she doesn't belong there.  Why is it sometimes so hard to believe that we really are as smart/funny/strong/cultured/inspiring as we truly are?

Speaking of schools - I caught this in my news feed today, the idea of teaching Feminism in schools for five very good reasons.

http://www.chicagonow.com/nails-on-a-chalkboard/2014/05/5-reasons-to-teach-feminism-in-high-school/

In case you don't feel like clicking on the link I'll give you the lazy man's lobster.  Here are the five reasons why:

1)  A woman’s words are more important than her appearance.
2)  A woman’s body does not require a man—or a woman’s—evaluation.
3)  A woman should not have to *"act like a man" in order to receive respect.
4)  Women are not weak.
5)  Nobody should be seen as conquerable and disposable.

Yes.  A Feminism course that's standard in high schools.  Yes.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to get out of town with eight other women.  Throughout the course of our "mini-break" I couldn't help notice how supportive, caring and encouraging we were with one another.  No negative self-talk was tolerated.  No disrespecting of one's own body in a bathing suit would be heard.  Husbands and children were rarely discussed.  We propped each other up, made one another feel bright and beautiful and generally embraced our feminine selves for three days straight.  I can only speak for myself but I think we all ended our time together with our heads held a little higher and feeling a little stronger.

That is my hope for my daughter.  I hope she sees other women as allies, not threats.  I hope her girlfriends are mirrors that let her see all the best parts of herself - and that she can do the same for them.  I hope she never listens to that little voice that says she doesn't deserve "it" - whatever "it" is.  I hope she sees her future partner as her complete equal, but not the person she needs to be complete herself.  I hope she loves every little thing about her body and her mind.  

I hope that if I say it over and over enough times she will eventually believe me -  that one little girl really can change everything.

let's be clear.

After writing this post I realized (gasp!) I had neglected to include the monthly we're-about-to-kiss photo!  Since I couldn't figure out a clever way to sneak a steamy shot into this post I thought why not include one of my all time favs anyway?  So what if it's totally irrelevant and has nothing to do with the topic?  And let's be real - do we even need a reason to admire the extreme hotness that is Tristan and Susannah from Legends of the Fall?  That's what I thought.

For the love of god and all things holy.   

I realize this is a tough transition, but let's get back to business shall we?

I was stalling when it came time to write the April installment of TLT because frankly, it's been a rough month (or two).  I wanted to wait until I was feeling sunshiny and had something sunshiny to say before I started writing.  Then I realized how silly and disingenuous that thinking is - we're in this together right?  For good or bad, richer or poorer...you get my point.

So the last few months of my life have been consumed with something that I will (for the the purposes of this post) refer to as "The Transaction".  The Transaction is a very complicated, very taxing life circumstance that my husband and I have been navigating and trying to resolve for a long time now, and has just recently reached critical mass.  I'm not going to bore you with the details of The Transaction for two reasons:

1)  It's a downer and I promised I would write for no reason other than to make both of us feel better.
2)  My husband would kill me.

The Transaction has produced a series of obstacles that we have addressed and overcome one at a time throughout the last few years.  Each new challenge has been a learning experience, a growth opportunity and a good excuse to pour a stiff drink.  Needless to say there have been sleepless nights, raised voices and a growing level of anxiousness to bring The (evil) Transaction to a close once and for all.

Finally, we were at the finish line.  Victory was so close we could taste it.  It was finally done.  And then suddenly, it wasn't.

How could this be?!?!  I felt mentally defeated and out of energy.  I wasn't sure what to do or how I was ever going to muster up the "umph" to pick myself up and start all over again.  As I sat in my office wondering how months of work could possibly have been for NOTHING I got a phone call from my Dad.  I rarely get phone calls from my Dad.  He said something like this:

"You can't let this thing win Jules.  You can't jump ship now, you have to keep trying.  Try to keep a clear head about you.  You need to develop a new plan." 

He said a bunch of other "Dad stuff" that even as a thirty six year old woman made me feel safe and like everything was going to be okay.  My Dad is one hell of a guy, he really is. 

I listened to everything he said but the only part I really heard was his instruction to keep a clear head.  His choice of words couldn't have been more perfect.  I had just finished reading The Art of Thinking Clearly by Rolf Dobelli.

(*Fun Little Side note:  Upon researching Mr. Dobelli, a Swiss author and entrepreneur, I learned that he is a co-founder of getAbstract, the "compressed reading" site that I've used in the past when I was too lazy to read the whole book.  Weird right?  Small world.*)  

Mr. Dobelli is not a dreamer, he is a thinker.  He is the opposite of a self-helpie type, he's more of a rain on your parade with facts, stats and practicality type which makes for a depressing read but a good sanity check.

...plus he's kinda cute, no?

He makes many (harsh and depressing) good points in the book.  He talks about how we (humans) make poor decisions and our lives harder than they need to be by not thinking straight.  He breaks our bunk logic apart into categories and provides examples - just for fun here are a couple:

• "My uncle smoked three packs a day his whole life and he lived to be 93!"  Taking one example that is statistically unlikely and using it to justify our actions.

• "I can't leave my wife now (even though I am totally miserable and we are like strangers), I have 17 years invested in this relationship!"  Using the "sunk cost" of time or energy invested in a project or relationship as a basis for making a decision about the future.

• Making a decision based on "known truths" (which may not be true) without questioning them.  Many companies have closed their doors because of this.

...and countless others.  This book is a quick read and worth your time if you find yourself in a decision-making-heavy time in your life. 

Sometimes things just don't seem fair.  I believe it's true that sometimes you do give more than you get.  Sometimes the effort you put in is not equal to the reward you get out.  Sometimes the love you give someone is not equal to the love they give in return.  And in the lyrics from that catchy little tune by Passenger:

sometimes you gain less than you lose
we've got holes in our hearts
we've got holes in our lives
we've got holes, we've got holes
but we carry on

So I decided I would find the energy keep trying.  I refuse to let the history of The Transaction prevent a positive outcome.  I'm not going to let my emotions cloud my ability to make sound decisions and see this thing through to the end.  After all, The Transaction is going to be there whether I pull the covers over my head and take it personally or keep a clear mind and a light heart.   

Sometimes it's hard to see the reason why everything is supposed to happen for a reason.  And you know what?  It's okay.  Forget about the scale that measures who tried harder or who gave more and just be happy you were there to give at all.  Know that every day we have an opportunity to be stronger and more resilient than we were yesterday.  To pick ourselves up, to keep a clear head about us, and to carry on.