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It’s Time to Get Out of Your Head

The hardest part about learning something new is the self-critique. The way that we judge ourselves is often far harsher than any feedback we receive.

Last week, I had the opportunity to teach yoga classes to my fellow trainees. As I prepared to teach my first self-choreographed yoga class, I reflected on how I kept putting pressure on myself to memorize my sequence correctly. But why?

The experience of a yoga class is far more than the postures themselves. By the third day of teaching, it became clear that a yoga teacher’s role is much more challenging than I ever gave it credit. It’s more than a playlist and some sequences. It’s how you engage your class.

And that, my friends, is why you need to get out of your head. If you’re stuck in your head, it’s about you. The role of a teacher, or any leader, is to make it about your people.

“Let’s Do This One For Us” @erikanicoleCLE Align Yoga Teacher Training

A few weeks ago, one of my yoga trainers (a goddess in her own right) said this to us before we prepped for practice. “Let’s do this one for us.” The significance of that phrase is so much more than meets the eye.

On any given day in training, we might log 5+ hours of yoga. My Apple Watch was undoubtedly busy trying to keep up. But think about any activity we perform repetitively.

At first, we love it.
But after a while, we check out.
Or we overanalyze.
Or we go on autopilot.

We were practicing so much—emphasizing learning—but we didn’t want to lose our passion for the experience. By setting those simple expectations, “let’s do it for us,” the prompt was to get out of our heads.

And then, when you do that, something magical happens. When you stop overthinking, you experience the moment.

Read the Room

The significance of this lesson, Get Out of Your Head, has become invaluable to me on my journey. The reality is, overthinking can easily be attributed to:

fear,
self-doubt,
insecurity,
analysis paralysis,
perfectionism

By thinking less and doing more, I’ve trusted my instincts and tapped into my intuition.

But there is a warning label I must add to this advice. You have to be able to “read the room.” Reading the room allows you to gauge others’ reactions to your actions.

Earlier I mentioned the passion I have for teaching (and leading in my day job) is it’s about the people—not about me. When you align with that purpose, you need to process feedback in real-time, even without words. Watching my fellow trainees in their practice, I can see visual cues that serve as feedback.

I need to get better at that.

I intended to give the trainees a physically challenging practice and coach them through it. The reality is, it had been a long nine days, and we were in the last hour, and our bodies were exhausted. If I had read the room, I would have seen that the trainees needed something different than what I scripted for them.

And that’s the reality of life. We can prepare all we want, but sometimes you need to call the audible.

How often do we present in a meeting and notice the audience is checking out? Do we trust ourselves to go “off-book” and bring them back? Or do we trudge along with our PowerPoint slides because that’s what we prepared? It can be hard to make a last-minute change after investing so much in your talking points’ memorization.

Think of that as a sunk cost. You can’t change how you prepped, but you can change how you execute. Read the damn room.

The Lesson

I have so much more empathy for how hard it can be to learn new things now that I got out of my comfort zone. We’ve all started new jobs before, but we forget how hard those early days are once we get grounded.

The early days of learning are full of uncertainty and self-doubt. You may or may not have a coach or leader that reassures you along the way.

The best way I have found to get out of my head while learning a new skill is to stop benchmarking myself against an expert. It’s easy to make comparisons. But where I am today is where I’m supposed to be today—because I’m new. I also don’t care to quantify how long it will take me to become an expert (BTW, there’s conflicting research about whether you need to log 10,000 hours doing something to be an expert).

So there it is. Go out there, learn something new, and don’t think too hard about it. I am sending you all my peace, love, and intuition.

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5 Lessons From Leading During a Pandemic

Happy quarantineversary! I’ve been wondering all week if Facebook would make a video to celebrate?! I have my answer; it’s a hard no.

March 12, 2020, was my last day in the office, which means I’ve basically spent the last 525,600 minutes with my family (but who’s counting?).

Over the last year, I have grown and changed as a person so much. 2020 began with the awakening that set into motion self-reflection on my relationship with myself and others. I’ve used my weekly blog to share my life lessons. Today, to honor my quarantineversary, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on the changes I’ve experienced as a leader during a global pandemic.

Here are the top five lessons I’ve learned over the last year.

No1: Pivot to Heart-to-Hearts

Three months into my first role as a leader at my current employer, we entered a global pandemic. For a while, I was trying to represent a pillar of strength for my team. I claimed to be a “five-out-of-five” in terms of happiness when sometimes I felt like a negative five.

How could I be a leader to the team during this crisis when we barely knew each other? And now we were all working from home?

So, I did what I knew best. I talked. And, I listened.
The team may have noticed that, at times, our one-on-ones felt more like heart-to-hearts.

That’s the best way I know how to lead. By empathizing with their struggles. By sending them compassion. We still “talk shop” but we always make time to check-in, vent, share our joys and our frustrations. As our work-from-home duration extends, I now look forward to this individual time with each of my team members.

Leadership Lesson: It’s never too late to pivot and make the best use of the time you have with your people. Whether it’s a teammate, an employee, or even a family member—let’s create the human connection we so crave during this time of isolation.

No2: Be Creative with Collaboration

Some of the funniest memes and skits I’ve seen during the pandemic are poking fun at the dreaded teleconference and video conference.

Mute buttons, background noise, background visuals (yikes!), and interrupted connections are all part of the day-to-day experience of working from home. What started as a major frustration has turned into a running joke.

However, there are times when our team has actually needed to collaborate. Can collaboration even exist without a conference room and a whiteboard? How can you keep people engaged when there are endless distractions for people working from their home office (or maybe it’s just my kids that think it’s okay to interrupt meetings I’m facilitating to ask for a snack!)?

Don’t ask me how we’ve done it—but we’ve managed to collaborate like a boss over the last year. Okay, you don’t need to ask me, I’ll tell you. It’s been more of a scientific experiment—tinkering with the ratio of people:technology to optimize output.

What does that mean? It means more small group dialogues. It means facilitating more meetings on my part but allowing everyone a comfortable space to collaborate without worrying about talking over one another because of the lack of body language.

Leadership Lesson: Digital collaboration has been the brunt of many jokes, but it’s a necessity in business. Play around until you find the right group size and the right amount of fancy technology to get a productive meeting.

No3: Take Intentional Rest Days

I’m prone to avoiding rest days in my workout programs ’til the point of injury. The saying I’ve heard is, “if you don’t pick a rest day, your body will choose it for you.”

It’s not that I don’t recognize that I need rest. It’s that exercise is one of my coping tools for quarantine stress, so I hesitate to take time off.

However, the fatigue I’m talking about here is the pandemic fatigue combined with the “always-on” culture of working from home. I don’t recall the last time I shut-down my laptop?

I realized that the equivalent to an injury from over-usage of the muscles is the mental and emotional drainage from not having time off. Nobody wants to waste paid-time-off on a staycation, but that’s exactly what we all need.

I have made it a point to schedule a weekend getaway every other month or so with my family. This time away from emails and IMs is the mental reboot I need to allow my body the time it needs to repair and reset.

Leadership Lesson: Sometimes, even though we know we need to take care of ourselves, we still don’t do it. I wouldn’t say I like taking rest days, but I find ways to make time off—whether from work or working out—enjoyable in other ways. I really don’t want to see how my body would force a mental rest day if I don’t take one!

No4: Reward Risky Behavior

As a parent, my conditioning is to be ultra-conservative to look out for my kids’ welfare. My neighbor recently reminded me how I used to panic when my son was a toddler driving in a 5mph Lightening McQueen Hot Wheels. I never thought I’d be a helicopter parent, but here I am.

As a leader, I take the opposite stance. I most enjoy it when I see the team taking risks, driving and embracing change. When they foster innovation or recommend eliminating processes to focus on continuous improvement, I couldn’t be a prouder mama bear.

To reinforce these behaviors, I try to offer positive recognition through our team collaboration tools. I find ways to share their stories outside of our team to evangelize their excellent work.

Leadership Lesson: While I still might be overly protective of my children, I support a fail-fast and learn mentality for my team. Consider how to reward risks and minimize growing pains.

Kids = Crawl-Crawl-Walk

Team = Crawl-Sprint-Fall-Walk-Run

No5: Recognize Transformation

Even with all these positive lessons learned, we are still plagued with uncertainty when our work lives will go back to “normal.” To truly let go of those uncertainties, we’ve had to unlearn our belief system about what a “workday” is.

There’s no more commute—the time of day when many of us would psych ourselves up for the day on the way in; or decompress before walking back through the door to be with our family.

I didn’t know on that last commute home one year ago today that I would be spending the next half-million minutes with my family. As I look back at the transformation over the previous year, I can see that leading a team has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life during these unprecedented times.

We’ve embraced digital transformation and collaboration tools together. We’ve laughed, we’ve cried (yes, I cried at work over the last year), and we’ve grown.

As I embark on the next 525,600 minutes, I have made space for the new me. I’ve made space for my team.

Leadership Lesson: Being part of a team during a global pandemic is so much more than sharing a reporting hierarchy. It’s being part of a community. I have so much gratitude for the opportunity to share our values and struggles over the last year. And I can’t believe how far we’ve come.

Happy quarantineversary everyone. What lessons have you learned over the last year?

I am sending you all my peace, love, and leadership.

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Our Perfectly Imperfect Family Trip

Happy Daduary! The new Festivus for the rest of us. What’s Daduary, you ask? It’s a made-up holiday my family invented because we always struggle with the long-stretch after Christmas until we reach Memorial Day.

This year, we each decided to create a holiday (why not, Hallmark does it?) of our preference where everyone has to do all the things we like. Daduary, as you might have guessed, is all about Dad.

Daduary (noun, /dad-you-airy/) – Occurring the first weekend in February. Traditions including spending time as a family in nature, grilling out, and enjoying a bonfire. Oh, and of course, watching the Super Bowl!

Road Trippin

We decided to spend Daduary at a quaint little cabin in the woods of Ohio.

You may have noticed the title of this blog—our Perfectly Imperfect family trip. I was talking with a dear friend recently, and she and I agreed that so many of us tend to use social media to show the world the 10% of our family adventures where everyone is smiling, and the kids are cooperating by posing for the pic. When in reality, the stress of everyday life follows you where ever you go.

Since that conversation, I’ve thought a lot about the dangers of not showing the wizard behind the curtain. My life isn’t perfect, so my weekend recap won’t portray the Land of Oz— it will give you a sneak peek into life with two kids, a dog, and a couple who has been quarantined together for almost an entire year.

Now that I set your expectations for a transparent travel blog, it may come as a surprise that I’m starting with how Samson, our four-and-a-half-month-old miniature Australian shepherd, was amazingly well-behaved on the three-hour drive. We made him a little doggy lair in the middle of the mid-row captain’s chairs, and he just chilled.

We arrived at our pet-friendly Air BNB (I highly recommend this cabin!) near Hocking Hills, OH, on a Friday evening. The cabin looks like it’s constructed from Lincoln Logs, is located on a horse farm, but the best part was the giant hot tub with a woods view. Samson was right at home in the woods, we hopped in the hot tub, and hubby kicked off Daduary celebrations by firing up the grill. I’d have to say day one was pretty perfect.

Okay, so when does sh*t get real?

Ice, Ice Baby: Meltdowns with a Side of Sass

The Day 2 plan consisted of the activities this area is known for, hiking in the breathtaking parks.

Maybe it’s our fault that our kids haven’t spent enough time in the frigid outdoors in Northeast Ohio, but the concept of dressing in layers was appalling to them. When my kids start to resist reasonable requests–for their health and safety might I add—I usually take one of two approaches.

1) Play the Authority Card – this is the I’m the grown-up here tactic. The sub-text of which is “listen up, because I know what’s best for you!”

Right or wrong, I usually start with this approach, even though my kids are pretty damn stubborn. I don’t know if I should be mad or proud that they don’t just blindly do what someone tells them to do. They used every argument in the books, but in the end, they had their snow pants on, but and I quote I was told, “mommy is a meanie.”

Authority Card for the win, right? Nope. Next came, “Hey, did you guys use the bathroom before you geared up?” The answer is nope. I’m shaking my head on that one. My daughter is the only one that needed to de-robe and used the potty. But she refused to put the snow pants back on.

Thoroughly exhausted from arguing, I’m now on my second tactic.

2) Learn the Hard Way – this is the “you, do you” approach and see if they figure it out themselves. Maybe I’ll be wrong. Perhaps the cold won’t be as unbearable as I remember growing up in snow country. Will I admit I’m wrong in that case? I likely would. But, in this case, I didn’t have to worry about that.

Dead Man’s Cave

If you’ve been to Hocking Hills, you know the cave’s actual name is Old Man’s Cave, but I mistakenly referred to it as the Dead Man’s Cave, and the kids wouldn’t let me live it down. It turns out I may not have been that wrong after all.

We lucked out with a rare but beautiful blue sky and sunshine on a chilly winter day. After the morning meltdowns, we were all ready for some fresh air. Nothing was indicating a life or death experience was about to unfold.

Our first red flag should have been the ice-covered sidewalk leading from the parking lot to the hiking trail. But, we trekked on. We passed other families, and some had also brought their dogs. Indeed this indicated safety. If dogs and babies can hike the hills on the ice, so can we, right?!

Okay, maybe I am exaggerating when I say life and death, but my daughter would beg to differ. Her tie-dye leggings were no match for the ice-covered stairwell into the Devil’s Bathtub that required a full-on butt slide to reach the bottom.

In her snowpantsless stubbornness, she quickly learned the hard way that: more gear > fashion.

The scenery was stunning, and no matter what, I still say it was worth it for the pics, but it just got scarier from there. We were ~~walking~~ scooting across sheets of ice with dagger-shaped icicles on our right and a cliff plunging into a ravine on our left. At one point, Gianna and I wiggled our way into a semi-dry spot, sat down, and let all the other tourists go by us.

At this point, we had to make a judgment call—keep going to the cave or turn back. We opted to turn around. Our kids’ fear, lack of proper outdoor gear, and the elements were no match for us.

Leaning into Imperfection

We never did make it to Old Man’s Cave—which was kind of the purpose of the location for our Daduary weekend getaway.

Instead, we went back to the cabin, started a bonfire, and created makeshift snowboards out of an old cardboard box. The kids took turns wiping out down the hill (this time, Gianna wore her snow pants).

Boxboarding, our family’s made up extreme sport, was just the right amount of fear and adventure for them.

Watching them create this magical experience reminded me that fun doesn’t need an itinerary. It reinforced that no amount of planning can factor in all of the unknowns. All and all, I’d say the first annual Daduary was a success!

Spoiler alert! Future blogs will outline the rest of the family’s holidays: Yay Day!, Springivmas, and Famstastic 5th. We look forward to those, Focker.

Until then, I am sending you all my peace, love, and snow pants.

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I Finally Figured Out How to Make My Husband Feel Good

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

It took me three decades, but I finally learned how to make myself feel good. I’m living my best life from a physical fitness, nutrition, and mindset standpoint. Apparently, all it took was the opposite of every damn thing I had been doing up until a few months ago.

I’m happy to share how I started living my best life. In fact, all I want to do is share what I’ve learned.

But I’ve learned something else along the way…

Everyone’s needs are different. There might be aspects of my approach to wellbeing that speak to you, but for the most part, your ability to find what works for you and then commit to it is what matters most.

Your Needs > My Advice

It may sound counterintuitive to tell you I have the secret to feeling good, only to follow it up with “what I say really doesn’t matter.” But, that’s the truth.

“Do as you need, not as I say.”

That’s how I finally figured out how to make my husband feel good. For months, maybe years, I have seen him suffer from back pain. As a former collegiate athlete, I have nursed a fair amount of muscle ailments. I have tried to ~~boss him around~~ provide helpful tips to encourage him to resolve the source of the issue versus just treating the symptoms.

I will say, he’s not completely stubborn. Doctors, pain management specialists, and massage therapists (oh, my!) have provided relief for him over the years.

But like most people working from home, sitting in a desk chair for hours on end isn’t helping anything. No amount of Aleve is going to stave off muscle stiffness forever.

Watching this cycle of pain –> relief –> rinse–>repeat has left me feeling helpless. I just wanted him to see what I finally see. To learn from my mistakes. That being a cardio junkie, with 30 mins of intense heart-rate boosting exercise followed by a whole day of sitting isn’t self-care. If anything, it’s a recipe for long-term repetitive stress injuries.

But that’s not how it works.

The way it finally clicked for me was to shut up and let his body do the talking. More to come on that.

I Like to Move It, Move It!

According to The NY Times Article, Born to Move, we might be fighting our DNA when we clock into our day jobs. An excerpt from this article talks about how our bodies were designed versus how we’re using them.

“…we no longer live in a hunting and gathering world. Mostly we live in offices and in front of screens, where we sit and have food brought to us, creating a fundamental mismatch between the conditions that molded our bodies and those that we inhabit.”
Gretchen Reynolds, Born To Move, The New York Times

The secret to living my best life is actually not a secret at all. In fact, it’s a practice that is thousands of years old—the practice of yoga.

How has this ancient practice changed my life? And why am I so sure it would change my husband’s life…and yours?

Because it’s so much more than an exercise class.

Sure, the variety of athleisure and dope playlists help make it fun to grab a yoga class. But it’s the essence of the practice that has been a game-changer for me—the connection of mind, body, and spirit.

The transformation that happens when you walk into a room with your bullsh*t and baggage from the week, and all of a sudden, the lights dim and you start the breath and move, and suddenly that mind-stuff doesn’t matter anymore.

Like Ron Burgandy, I just wanted to shout it from the top of a mountain — I love yoga, and yoga loves me! But, I didn’t have a mountain; I had a blog and a social media account.

I started documenting my journey to inner peace—a quest for a calm mind and a strong body—and somewhere along the way, I finally pressed play on a metaphorical voicemail message I received from the Universe. It was my intuition telling me I should help other people find the beauty in this practice, as well.

If I tell people how yoga helped me, others will surely jump in “downward dog” first. If I build it, they will come…right? Wrong.

The truth is, there a lot of people out there like my husband. People suffering from the way they have moved (or not moved) their bodies for decades. But they have a stigma associated with the practice of yoga. They think:

Yoga is only for hippie chicks (false)
Yoga doesn’t burn enough calories (subjective)
Yoga is just for stretching, and they already stretch (untrue, it’s far more than body movement only)
Yoga is too slow (depends on the class)
Yoga is too hard (depends on the class)
Yoga is only for flexible people (people gain flexibility because of their practice, not everyone starts that way)

The point is, there are plenty of excuses out there, so simply telling someone what’s good for them doesn’t change anything.

So, what does? Ah, back to how I helped my husband feel good.

Phanatomy

I’ve spent the last two weekends in intense all-day yoga teacher training workshops. The bulk of what I’ve been learning is the two-thousand-year-old philosophy and modern anatomy basics. In our slap-happy state, a slurred word Philosophy + Anatomy became Phanatomy.

And that’s what helped.

We learned how to identify poses to move our bodies specifically for different types of muscle release. This was a total geek-out moment for me. This morning as I chatted hubby up about yesterday’s lesson, I decided to try a little experiment.

Me: “Hey, we learned about the spine yesterday. I can’t believe how many ways there are to move, rotate, and stretch your back. What part of your back is hurting?”

Hubby: “Mid-back.”

Me: “Ah! That’s a challenging part of the back to stretch with just standard movements. Let’s try some lateral bends, followed by some rotations…Make sure you concentrate on that mid-back area as you move through these stretches…Breathe in and out a few times in each stretch.

Congratulations, you just did yoga. You moved your body with intention and connected your breath to your movement.”

And there it is.
That’s how I finally learned how to make my husband feel good: I stopped telling him what to do.
Instead, I helped him help himself feel better.

Teaching yoga isn’t about telling everyone they need to do yoga. It’s making it accessible for everyone so they can feel the benefits. In a few months, when I am ready to student-teach with friends and family, I would be honored if you would let me work with you to help you feel better.

Until then, I am sending you my peace, love, and yoga poses.

Why Did We Fall in Love with Amanda Gorman’s Poem?

The Hill We Collectively Climbed in 2020

Photo by Quang Nguyen Vinh on Pexels.com

This past week, working from home allowed me to tune in to the inauguration in real-time. Sitting on my couch during my lunch break, I wasn’t expecting to be so moved by the inaugural poem.

Amanda Gorman’s words were profound. Her presence, rhythmic rendition, and diction were so on point. I immediately, girl crush cyber stalked her and found out that she was a 22-year-old highly acclaimed poet. I also found out that our nation instantly fell in love with her, as well.

I know why I fell in love with her words. Besides the fact that I have recently re-taken up writing and sharing poetry (Awakening, My Brain on Pain, and My Second Grade Love Poems to My Mom), I could empathize with the story.

And that’s why I think we all fell in love with Amanda’s words. Haven’t we all been climbing a hill?

And with that realization, I was inspired by Amanda Gorman to write another poem about our shared struggles in 2020.

My poem: Our Collective Climb.

Our hills may be different, and they may vary in steepness. 
But one thing I know is that we are connected through this experience. 

We've all been living through the same global pandemic. 
Many of us awakened to social injustices that are systemic.

We judged each other and witnessed political unrest. 
And so many of us laid loved ones to rest.

Many suffered in isolation.
But really, we suffer together as a nation.
 
A lot of us lost jobs or reduced our income.
Is there anything from 2020 that we can learn from?

The thing about a hill, there's always a summit.
This past year was challenging, but we can grow from it. 
 
We can look down while we're climbing-which I don't recommend.
Or we can come together to mend.
 
Climbing our hill has illuminated that we have been weak. 
Now, there's an opportunity to rise, to speak. 

We have a choice.
To stay quiet or use our voice. 
 
That’s why we all loved Amanda's poem...
She used her voice to show us the way back home.

If you do nothing else, heed her advice.
Be brave enough to be a light.

Thanks for indulging me by reading another of my poems. My learning from climbing our hill this past year was to unlearn my limiting beliefs.

What have you learned from climbing our hill?

I am sending you all my peace, love, and hiking boots.

If you’re interested in reading “The Hill We Climb” by Amanda Gorman here is a transcript of the poem as shared on CNN.com:

When day comes, we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry. A sea we must wade.
We braved the belly of the beast.
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace, and the norms and notions of what “just” is isn’t always justice.
And yet the dawn is ours before we knew it.
Somehow we do it.
Somehow we weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished.
We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny Black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president, only to find herself reciting for one.
And, yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.
We are striving to forge our union with purpose.
To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man.
And so we lift our gaze, not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.
We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside.
We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another.
We seek harm to none and harmony for all.
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true.
That even as we grieved, we grew.
That even as we hurt, we hoped.
That even as we tired, we tried.
That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.
Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.
Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid.
If we’re to live up to our own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made.
That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb, if only we dare.
It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit.
It’s the past we step into and how we repair it.
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation, rather than share it.
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.
And this effort very nearly succeeded.
But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated.
In this truth, in this faith we trust, for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us.
This is the era of just redemption.
We feared at its inception.
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour.
But within it we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves.
So, while once we asked, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe, now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be: a country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free.
We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation, become the future.
Our blunders become their burdens.
But one thing is certain.
If we merge mercy with might, and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright.
So let us leave behind a country better than the one we were left.
Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest, we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.
We will rise from the golden hills of the West.
We will rise from the windswept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution.
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the Midwestern states.
We will rise from the sun-baked South.
We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover.
And every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful.
When day comes, we step out of the shade of flame and unafraid.
The new dawn balloons as we free it.
For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.

My Second Grade Love Poems to My Mom

A 2020 love story.

I rang in 2020 in a hospital room, and I concluded it on a living room couch.
Everything in between was a journey through pain and love.

2020 was a dual love story for me.

After almost losing my mom to a heart attack in December of 2019, I had resolved that I would take 2020 to focus on love. And as I reflected on New Year’s Eve 2020, I can, with certainty, say that I stuck with my resolution all year.

Before that, I was asleep at the wheel.

I never realized a parent-child relationship deserves as much nurturing as your relationship with your spouse.

Also, it appears I have always been a romantic. I recognized a love I had been neglecting for far too long. My voice.

This was the love triangle I spent most of 2020 focused on.

Love Story Preface: The Land Before Digital Time

My passion for bringing words to life dates back to when I was a kid. I know this because my Mom hoarded my childhood journals for over 30 years.

Somehow she knew. That someday I would rekindle this fire and find inspiration by reconnecting with my inner child. The child that didn’t have access to social media and electronics. The child that had paper, pen, and dreams.

She kept great care of my diaries and journals and waited patiently for me to find my way back to my first love…writing.

She mailed my childhood journals to me a few months ago. As I paged through the material from the late 80s and early 90s, my first insights were:

There is proof that John Stamos was my first childhood crush,
The Bills losing the Super Bowl didn’t phase me (well, the first time didn’t…there is no evidence that the subsequent three didn’t sting a little),
It snowed a lot in Buffalo, and
I loved my Mom…like a whole lot.

If only I had collaborated with Drake back then, my poetry would sound more like rap lyrics:

“I only love Uncle Jesse and my mommy. I’m sorry.”

Love Story Part 1: Blame it on the Hormones.

Growing up with two older brothers, I should have made it more of a point to align with the estrogen in our home. Instead, I instigated any possible attention I could get from the boys and missed all the life lessons on crafting and bedazzling from my Mom.

Thank God, Pinterest wasn’t a thing back then.

I just wasn’t interested in girly stuff. I was a tomboy through and through, so my recollection (and my diary) fail to reveal a lot of traditional mother-daughter bonding.

That’s why, when I found the poems I wrote in second grade, that seemingly would have looked like starry-eyed teenager puppy love, I was so happy to know that I did give her a memory to think fondly upon.

There were five poems in total. As embarrassing as it is to publish my second-grade love poetry (you’ll have to wait to the end to read them!), I am in a little bit of disbelief at their relevancy today.

Several of the poems reference what would appear to be long-distance love. In second grade, I could not have known that I would move from Buffalo to Cleveland (obviously because I have great taste in football teams) and be separated from her for nearly a year in a global pandemic.

Yet somehow, I needed her to know that no matter what, no matter the distance between us, I would always leave space for her in my heart.

I hope she remembered that all these years later.

Love Story Part 2: Dream Big, Love Hard.

The other surprising element of my prose was the absence of self-limiting beliefs in my words. The poem entitled “A Dream” reminds me so much of the blog I wrote about my son’s uncrafty birthday party.

In 2020, the other part of my love story was finding my way back to writing. Sharing my voice and my stories offers the connection I need during this time of isolation.

But, I almost didn’t do it.

I was scared to put my words out there for everyone to see.
I was scared to let people see the unfiltered version of me.
The 8-year-old me wrote about dreaming big.
The 38-year-old me was scared to lose big.

Why?

Because I didn’t believe in myself.
Because I have imposter syndrome.
Because I didn’t think anyone cared.

The eight-year-old me didn’t give AF about all that. She thought I’d grow up to be 100% that b*tch.

Looking at my old journals is like looking into a window of my childhood soul. It’s also like looking at my own kids right now. They dream big and love hard.

Luckily, I am blessed with supportive people in my life that pushed me to follow my dreams.

My awakening to the importance of the parent-child intimate relationship isn’t just about reconnecting with my Mom. It’s about building an indestructible bond with my own kids.

It’s hard to imagine that before they were in remote schooling, I would only see them a couple of hours out of the day. Between my job and their activity calendars, there just wasn’t any time for Us.

The quarantine has brought us so much closer. Weekends are spent watching movies together, working on puzzles, and playing board games.

I want to think if they were to write a poem to me, their words would spill out with authenticity.

But maybe writing isn’t their thing? I’m finding out there is a lot I didn’t know about my kids. My son loves the guitar, and my daughter loves to draw. Michael wants to start coding videos games (taking after his software developer Daddy) and Gianna wants to learn piano and violin.

I love that I know this about them. I love that they know this about themselves. That they have been given the space to explore themselves a bit more.

Who knows, maybe 2020 was a love story for them, too?

Without further delay, here are my second-grade love poems to my Mom (P.S. – I love you, Mom):

I Miss You

Love & Kisses
Hugs & Misses
From all the times we've been apart
No matter what you do
You'll always hold a place in my heart.

Caring

Caring & Sharing
Kindness & Love 
All come together
In one big hug

A Dream

A dream is a wish
A wish is a hope
A hope is something you want to happen
If you believe in yourself
Your dream will come true
Believe in yourself
Do, Do, Do!

Hugs

Hugs are beautiful and nice and bright
Under the trees, or under the light
Give me a hug from the heaven above
So when I'm without you I'll remember your love

Love

Love is beautiful love is bright
Over the heavens over the light
Valentine's caring and Valentine's love
Exchanging cards, exchanging hugs

In what ways have you reflected on your childhood beliefs compared to your current beliefs?

I am sending you all my peace, love, and poetry.

My Homeschool Report Card is a “C”

I won’t be getting a merit pay increase for my job as a homeschool teacher. My self-evaluation is a “C” at best. But to be fair, I didn’t have any formal training — not a crash course, not an eBook, not even a job aid.

Maybe that sounds defensive, or perhaps it’s just reality. Sometimes we need to jump in and learn on the job.

Here’s what I’ve learned on the job as a homeschool teacher in 2020:

Lesson #1 — You’re not smarter than a fourth-grader

The next time my kids ask me whether they will ever use the math they are learning again, I am going to say — “Yes! When you need to homeschool your damn kids.”

I seriously hope I never live to see another global pandemic, but this has put A LOT in perspective. For instance, my kids are smarter than me.

Many parents I know are concerned about how far behind our kids might be after all of this, but maybe, just maybe, we need to unlearn everything we know about traditional education.

Observing both of my kids navigate their schoolwork online has been pretty impressive. They have embraced the digital classroom with far more ease than most adults transitioning to working from home.

Takeaway: Just think of how far ahead our kids will be when they enter the workforce with their technology agility. Maybe adults are the ones with an entitlement mentality about what an education is and should be.

Lesson #2: Life Smarts > Books Smarts

Why can my fourth-grader do algebra, but he can’t tie his shoes?

Why TF are homeschooling parents not leveraging this opportunity to teach more life skills? That’s one thing I can nail!

Here’s the thing, we have an opportunity to help them unlearn what we’ve projected on to them with their crazy and unrealistic activity schedules and constant movement.

Maybe our kids will embrace this as an opportunity to learn how to go with the flow. To be more present. Would that be so bad?

Instead of counting down the days between each non-denominational school holiday, they can focus on appreciating the days they are allowed to go into school at all.

The days they are allowed to see their friends. The days when they get to learn new swear words on the school bus.

Takeaway: Let’s celebrate these lessons in resiliency and coping skills more than the frustration over another Zoom scavenger hunt.

Lesson #3: The Teachers Weren’t Lying

We all think our kids are perfect, but that first parent-teacher conference usually hits you between the eyes.

“What do you mean my kid doesn’t stay on task?!”

It turns out teachers were telling the damn truth.

I have never wanted to be a micromanager, but my new daily responsibilities have shifted to:

Make sure my children change out of pajamas.
Remember to have them login (I can’t even recall how many times the kids have been tardy to their Zoom).
Watch their designated “union breaks.” Anyone else’s kids hopping on a quick game of Among Us on their 10-minute break and then forgetting to log back in?
Monitor sibling interaction during the school day. A fellow parent told me that my first-grader likes to make cameo appearances on her fourth-grade brother’s Zoom. I’m shaking my head on that one.
Confirm my conference calls are on mute at all times. I mean, seriously, why are they always asking for more snacks while you are in the middle of a meeting?!

Takeaway: I don’t envy the job of teachers. Let’s make sure we give them more credit for dealing with our little a-holes all day, and let’s give them the benefit of the doubt when they try to (nicely) tell us that our kids are little a-holes.

Report Card Recap

Kidding aside, I know fellow parents are worried about much more significant side effects from the pandemic, like:

Will our kids fall behind?
Will they suffer from a lack of socialization?
Will this impact their emotional wellbeing?

There are so many unknowns causing so much angst.

I’m giving myself a “C” grade on my year-end performance evaluation as a homeschool teacher because I know I can do better. I have a lot of room to grow.

I’m hopeful that the remainder of this school year will trigger us to evaluate ourselves and our kids’ learning experience with more grace.
To reconnect to what matters and embrace learning and unlearning in ways we never have before.

Let’s give the rest of this school year a chance to be the transformation we need. Who’s with me?

I am sending you all my peace, love, and good grades.

Todd and Margo, Where Are They Now?

An open letter to Hollywood begging for the next reboot

Photo Cred: Barry Wolf. Pitured author and her hubby.

Dear Hollywood,

It seems like reboots are all the rage right now. I don’t blame you. Why mess with success?

I often wondered what happened to Uncle Jesse, Zach Morris, and the Fresh Prince. After all, these were my crushes in my formative years. Why I didn’t end up moving to the West Coast to find these male archetypes is beyond me. I guess I prefer losing football teams to eternal sunshine.

Anyway, something’s been on my mind for a long time. I’m dying to know what happened to Todd and Margo.

Margo, with her long curly dark and her and sharp tongue, was my childhood hero. She seemed like the quintessential boss babe.

Hollywood, I need to know more about Margo’s story arc. Being a strong female in the late ’80s must have been lonely. I can empathize with her.

I forgave her for being rude and unkind to her neighbors. I’m sure her prickliness was just a mask for her imposter syndrome.

And her neighbors were a hot mess. What was she supposed to do? She showed us how it’s essential to set boundaries.

She was quite profound.

I believe deep down in my heart, her burning question, “why is the carpet all wet?” is a metaphor. The subtext “Why is life such a sh*t show?”

The carpet was all wet in 2020.

Hollywood, I need to know what happened to Todd and Margo?!

Here are my Top 10 burning questions:

How did Todd and Margo cope with quarantine? Did they constantly bicker? I know how easy it is to lose sight of the real issue and get in a fight about something as dumb as a wet carpet or a damn cucumber.
What’s their workout routine? Do Todd and Margo still go running together? Or do they do Cross Fit? Do they wear matching athleisure? I’d like to know if they recommend one or two rest days per week.
What kind of home decor do they have now? Did they keep their art deco or embrace a more Joanna Gaines farmhouse vibe? Personally, I see Margo as a trendsetter, and I bet her house is full of one of a kind pieces.
Did they stay in suburban Chicago? How awkward was it for her to run into Clark & fam after their Christmas shenanigans? Surely she didn’t bite her tongue. I’d like to know more about her conflict resolution strategy.
How has Margo changed as a result of the global pandemic? Did she become more introspective? Did she slow down and smell the roses? Is she still a boss babe?
Did Todd ever man up? I feel bad for Todd. Even though he might be the original metrosexual he didn’t seem in tune with his emotions. It appeared he bottled up his frustrations instead of feeling them. Did he seek therapy?
Did they ever have kids? It appeared the double income no kids (DINK) lifestyle was their chosen path. However, their children would be in their late 20s / early 30s right now if they did have kids. That would make them grandparents. What kind of grandparents would Todd and Margo be?
What style trends have they embraced? Even though Todd might be a grandpa, I like to picture him with a millennial beard. You know the one: 5 o’clock shadow meets I’m too cool to shave. And Margo. Her beautiful curls. Does she get a blowout now? Sadly for us curly-haired women, Perma frizz is no longer the vibe.
Do they eat carbs? Judging by their sauna suits and their commitment to portable hydration, they were very health conscious. I’d like to know what camp they are in, Team Paleo? Team WholeFoods? Team Vegan? I’d watch their cooking show.
Are they even still married? I hate to say it, but things weren’t looking very good for Todd and Margo when we last saw them. Domestic violence aside, they had some emotional baggage they needed to resolve. How did they work that out…asking for a friend.

I sure hope that you consider Todd and Margo with all the reboot ideas coming your way.

I am sending you all my peace, love, and carpet cleaner. Merry Christmas!

Sincerely,

This Mama

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How I Learned to Be a Loser

One year ago today, I competed in an innovation competition, lost, and received the world’s most bougie participation trophy. Seriously. This trophy is made of crystal, has my name engraved, and is a translucent blue that probably has a name like Azure Ocean.

Believe it or not, the irony of receiving a participation trophy as an adult did temporarily distract me from the sting of losing. Maybe it served a purpose then? My recent viewing of Home Alone inspired the other usage I can envision. Indeed, this would make a suitable weapon against burglars.

However, I doubt our leadership team envisioned the trophy as a bludgeoning tool. Or a chalice (as depicted in the cover image). This well-intentioned reward sits on the desk in my home office (which has been my permanent work location since March 2020) and occasionally causes me to contemplate the contest.

Today as I remember my “Big L,” I’m reflecting on what it feels like to be a loser.

the contest.

The Contest. OK, if you’re a Seinfeld fan, that headline should make you giggle, if it didn’t Google it.

This contest was not as colorful as Jerry and Co.’s contest, but I was the only female in the competition, just like Elaine.

I won’t go into details on the pitch that landed me a spot as a finalist (because it is now my employer’s intellectual property), but that is not the intent of this post anyway. I intend to share everything I’ve learned about competing and losing.

lessons from the losers circle.

As a former athlete, I’m accustomed to both winning and losing. Ironically, fifteen years of competitive swimming isn’t where I learned the most meaningful lessons on losing. Over the last year, I lost not only that competition, but I also lost some freedoms, a little bit of my sanity, and some of my entitlement mentality. It turns out life is all about how we cope with loss.

Here are four takeaways that may come in handy if you want to be a loser, too:

Find Your Goldilocks Factor: A byproduct of growing up as a tomboy in the 80s is I learned at a young age when I lost to shake that sh*t off. Recently, I started to wonder if that was the best approach? There has to be something in between “I don’t give AF” and “everyone gets a trophy.” What is the Goldilocks of losing? For me, it has been letting myself feel my feelings. It hurts to lose. Or at least it does if you want to win and don’t get what you want. And we don’t always get what we want. I’ve started to mourn my losses instead of ignoring them. The discomfort is temporary, but the resiliency it builds is just right.
Embrace the art of losing. The art of losing is something I wrote about last year when I witnessed my son become a victim of the blame game. In this case, the parents were overly vocal and attributed the loss to lousy ref calls. Then there were the conspiracy theories about the other team’s coach being the son of Mr. Bad Ref. These deflections are just as bad as a participation trophy, IMHO. There has to be grace and acceptance in losing. Sometimes even our best performances are losing ones. There’s always going to be a better athlete, a stronger applicant for a job, a better blog writer. You name it. There’s no such thing as perfection.
Stop looking for a “major award.” The obligatory participation trophy seems like a millennial invention. Hubby and I often joke about the ways we overcompensate because of our own prior experiences. Refer back to lesson number one—let your kids, yourself, whomever—feel those feelings of loss. Recognition of an intense effort is meaningful; however, a token gift for not getting what you want seems like a safety net. It could contribute to an entitlement mentality. This is one thing I am actively trying to lose!
Take inventory of your gains. I’m not a fan of polarization. Life is full of gray, not just black and white. That means there’s not just winning and losing. There’s gainzzzzzz. 2020 has put many things in perspective for me, including gaining an appreciation for simple things. If you’re stuck on the “Big W,” losing is inevitable. If personal growth is the end game, you will always have something to show for your effort.

I have to shout out to Instagram memories for the story inspiration today. The archive pics from one year ago today allowed me to reflect on that particular loss, but also recognize all of my gains for 2020. What have you learned from losing?

Sending you all my peace, love, and recognition. ☮️❤️🏆

Be sure to check out the archived memories that inspired this story and more by following me on my socials: IG and Twitter: @kj_myway and don’t forget to sign up to receive thismama.blog in your inbox.

How I Honored My Holiday Ghosts

Like many of you, I spent Thanksgiving in a very different way than normal. There was no turkey-trot, no out-of-town guests, and come to think of it…no stress. Why was that? We still cooked the same food, we still had a ton of dishes to clean, and we even had puppy potty breaks to factor into our timeline.

But, I found myself being far more intentional this year about shifting from one “G” word to another…from gluttony to gratitude.

The holidays have always represented an over-indulgence for me. Not just all of the drinking and eating, but overconsumption of EVERYTHING:

Kids Activities: Holiday concerts, Feasts, and school plays
Parties: Friendsgiving, Ugly Christmas Sweaters, Breakfast with Santa
Shopping: “Black Friday” and “Cyber Monday” shopping online and in-stores,
Food: Researching new recipes to try to out-do the meal from the prior year
Gift Exchanges: Secret Santa, White Elephant, Kids Stockings

In fact, I just stressed myself out trying to remember all the sh*t I normally do each year. When did this become OK? When did we normalize ’tis the season for anxiety?

As I spent my Thanksgiving quietly at home, I reflected quite a bit on my Ghosts of Holidays Past, Present, and Future.

Ghost of Holidays Past 👧🏻

My earliest memories of the holidays include good ol’ fashioned road trips in the family Dodge Caravan. Thanksgiving was spent in Michigan and Christmas in Central New York. My brothers and I had the luxury of just “showing up” — no responsibilities of cooking or cleaning. We just watched football, ran around, and plopped down for a ridiculously delicious meal. Whether the adults around us were melting down, we really didn’t pay attention. The atmosphere always seemed magical to us.

But as the years went on the transfer of anxiety–I mean responsibility–crept up slowly. It starts with being responsible to bring a side dish to someone else’s Thanksgiving and culminates with hosting your first Thanksgiving and realizing your damn turkey is still frozen solid when you take it out of the refrigerator on the fourth Thursday in November. Yes, this is a rite of passage no one ever tells you about. So you spend the morning giving the bird a bath in your kitchen sink and praying that you can get it in the oven at a decent time.

But oh, if that were the only stress. There’s also place settings and tablescapes, and the perfect family photo that needs to be posted on social media. There is “clean as you go” food prep and begging your children to change out of pajamas and into the color-coordinated outfits you purchased for the said family photo.

There’s the arrival of the guests and the meal before the meal, aka appetizers. The meal commences and lasts 30 minutes, if you’re lucky, to be followed by an hour-long clean-up and “de-bowling” ceremony. Then dessert, rinse & repeat.

What exactly was I grateful for on these long, exhausting holidays? Sure, family, friends, and food. But those have always been the ingredients. Maybe I should spend more time researching a recipe that uses those staples but deconstructs the rest of the holiday and omits the stress?

Ghost of Holiday Present 🦃

Thanksgiving hit different this year. I spent the beginning of the month feeling sorry for myself that we wouldn’t be able to host a big dinner (it’s like I have amnesia every year about just how much work goes into this), but mostly I was sad that my mother, still less than a year out from her near-fatal heart attack, would be staying put in Buffalo.

Many of my friends and family made similar sacrifices this year. In fact, a lot of people opted not to cook and purchased “Thanksgiving “to-go” from restaurants. Hmmm, that actually doesn’t sound so bad? Less cooking and more support of local businesses–I like the economics of that. 🤷🏻‍♀️

What other takeaways this year were worth recognizing?

As I visited with my Ghost of Holiday Present, I realized that I still had much for which to be grateful.

Family: While we weren’t able to host out of town guests we did spend more quality time with our local family. Conversations went beyond “small talk” because we were able to devote time and energy to each individual conversation. We scheduled video conference calls with the rest of my family and introduced everyone to our new little puppy Samson. My heart still feels full from being able to connect with everyone.

Food: I repeated the exact same recipes from last year without the pressure to innovate. Ya’ know what happened? They tasted better. I was able to refine each dish based on my recollection of the prior year. I added more fresh herbs to my dressing (yes, I’m team dressing v stuffing) and I simmered my turkey stock a lot longer in anticipation of those final moments of deglazing my roasting pan and adding those scrumptious turkey juices. I dare say it was our best meal yet.

Friends: If you read my blog, A Series of Fortunate Events, you know I usually follow the tradition of hitting up a townie bar in the days leading to Thanksgiving. While there was no dive bar crawl this year there has been plenty of group texts and memes shared to keep our spirits high. In this case, I think absence just makes the heart grow fonder. Our next night out is going to feel so much more meaningful.

Wait, if a low-key holiday can actually bring my family so much joy, what does that mean for future holidays?!

Ghost of Holidays in the Future 🔮

I’ll be honest, most of my conversations with family/friends lately have included the phrase “next Thanksgiving/Christmas we will…”

We’re already plotting next year’s shenanigans and we haven’t even made it past Christmas yet…better yet, we haven’t even successfully administered the Coronavirus vaccines yet. What makes us so hasty to start planning a year in advance?! Why don’t we spend the next month focusing on how we can enjoy whatever holiday we celebrate in December: Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanza, Festivus?!

I plan on embracing the slower pace this holiday season and stress-free meal prep. While I will miss our extended family, I know we can still connect. We’ve proven we can work remotely, teach our kids remotely; and now we’ve even proven we can enjoy a holiday remotely.

It’s fun to daydream about the big a$$ celebrations we’ll have next year, but I’d rather not add back in the stress from the holiday season B.C. (Before Corona). I’m going to focus the next few weeks on re-igniting the magical feeling of the holidays of my childhood.

That feeling of just “showing up” to the dinner table that I reflected on with my Ghost of Holiday Past was really the beginning of my awareness that back then we lived in the Present moment. We didn’t compare our meals to years prior and measure them against one another; we didn’t worry about Black Friday shopping and how we were going to get it all done in a month. We didn’t worry about the perfect social media-worthy food porn pics or family photos. We just..showed up.

That’s the vibe I want for Christmas this year…the show-up glow-up. HBU?

How have you reflected on our current versus past holidays? Did you have similar experiences feeling like your holidays were one big logistics equation? What are you most looking forward to for December 2020? As always, sending you all my peace, love, and holiday spirits. 🦃🎄👻

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