How Do You Scratch a 7 Year Itch?

On average a person stays at their job for 4.4 years, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. And Millennials stay in a job for less than three years.*

So it’s no wonder that this year I’m starting to scratch. Getting itchy. My primary job, being a mother of four for the last 7 years, has caused a prickly feeling to creep up my spine. I love my kids with all of my heart. But it’s just that sometimes I want something different, a break from the daily grind of food shopping, laundry, and being the logistical leader of this family. I admit to wishing the time away for my youngest to start elementary school, (I can practically hear the gasps from my friends whose kids are in college). I may sound like an insensitive, unloving mother, but isn’t it only natural for an all-consuming job to wear you down?

I’m not the first person to feel this way. The “seven-year itch” is a psychological term suggesting that happiness in a relationship declines after year seven of marriage. So, maybe my job satisfaction level is just petering with parenthood. 

Last weekend my husband and I watched the 1955 movie, The Seven Year Itch, which shows how a faithful publishing executive, Richard Sherman, fantasizes about cheating with his new upstairs neighbor played by Marilyn Monroe. The two form an unlikely friendship—he being optimistic that romantic feelings are brewing, and she more seeking his air conditioning during a hot Manhattan summer.  It turns out that guilt runs Richard to his wife and kid who are summering in Maine.

But I can’t just run away from the mundane motherhood monotony by fleeing to Kennebunkport.

Who else has caught themselves in a cycle of dissatisfaction—in any situation? When there’s little hope of relief? How do you scratch your itch?

Four years ago I had the worst case of poison ivy. Oozing, hideous scabs covered my body, and all I wanted to do was scratch. The only way I found episodic relief? I scalded myself in the shower—tricking my skin to not feel the rash, but instead to feel the burn. Temporary, but still blissful.

During challenging, strenuous times like in my current full-time job, we need to find those retreats to recharge. And not feel guilty about doing so. Sabbaticals for teachers—and now in some businesses—were invented for a reason. Note: “sabbatical” is derived from the word “sabbath,” for rest—a luxury often missing for mothers. Along with time off we need the support to do so. We need a medium to escape the tedium.

This motherhood job is a permanent one—and is no fantasy like Richard Sherman’s whimsical daydreams. Anyone in the trenches can relate. His imagination takes him elsewhere…leading ultimately back to his family. Maybe, just like with the poison ivy, what is needed is a few showers of relief—to take me away---only to be returned to my little blessings, but with my irritation healed and me feeling less stressed. 

 

*”Job Hopping is the ‘New Normal’ for Millennials: Three Ways to Prevent a Human Resource Nightmare” –Forbes 8/14/12 http://www.forbes.com/sites/jeannemeister/2012/08/14/job-hopping-is-the-new-normal-for-millennials-three-ways-to-prevent-a-human-resource-nightmare/

No Woman is an Island? I Disagree.

I’ve often romanticized a tropical lifestyle—the ever-wearing flip flops, dancing to steel drums on the way to the food market type of existence. Wouldn’t life be more effortless and relaxing being surrounded by crystal clear, champagne shores, “knee deep in the water somewhere” --like the Zac Brown Band sings? Would we be in constant vacation mode driving to and from soccer practice?

For years I’ve yearned for that get-away paradise, especially at times when bottomless mango daiquiris didn’t cut it anymore. I even kept a secret list close to my heart of the five friends I’d take on a deserted island. You’ve probably heard versions of the “5 Friends Everyone Should Have,”—like a lawyer, physician, mechanic, therapist, and a carpenter. Or about the “5 Friend Types”—like a listener, a motivator, a helper, an adventurer, and a comedian. Would you pray to be shipwrecked with a movie star like Gilligan? Who do you prioritize? Whom can you text/call to satisfy your pick-me-up?   

When teaching a public speaking class about aggressive and agenda-driven interviewers I talk about the “island of safety.” I suggest that the students prepare three key message points to drive the conversation, to focus their time as an opportunity to present their ideas and not get sidetracked down some tangential path. If someone asks an unrelated, hostile question the responder should acknowledge it, and then create a bridge to return to their main messages, or to their island.

Over the years I’ve realized that the bridges to reach those on my island—have been key to not only survival, but to share in life’s sheer enjoyment. As a high school graduation gift my favorite teacher gave me a framed piece of calligraphy with John Donne’s poem, which begins with, “No man is an island, Entire of itself.” Contrary to Donne’s poem, perhaps we are our own islands, molding our lives by erupting into our own safe havens? Granted, mine’s a land-locked one in suburban Pennsylvania with no steel drums…but in a non-methodical manner I have somehow crafted my own island of safety. I know the importance of gathering that band of merry people whom I can depend on, laugh with, and be inspired by.

So be grateful for the treasures on your island, those who make you feel confident, loved, supported, and encouraged. And make sure to thank them for just being there—in your fashioned paradise—which, in reality, may be in your own backyard.

Mind Tricking Your Way to What You Want: Does Positive Thinking Actually Work?

Hypochondriacs, I would guess, are prepared when illness hits.  Medicines stocked in the cabinet, WebMD’s app ready to tap—they’re ready because they think about it all of the time.  On the flipside, if you’re like me, when sickness strikes it’s a crushing blow—a hard, sudden, throwing off balance type of knock.  And you have to drive to CVS at 10 PM because you can’t find any Tylenol.  But once a fluke happens once, or in the case of my 6 year-old, lightning struck twice with unrelated autoimmune diseases–then even a positive thinker who doesn’t take temperatures or rush to the pediatrician has doubts.  Because that seed has been planted in your head.  And those memories taught you about vulnerabilities. 

So on Friday night when I drove to a children’s hospital for suspected appendicitis for my 3 year-old I thought, hey, it could happen to him…why not?  But since I’ve been exercising my positive thinking muscles for the last two months I strong-armed every vision of Scottie being wheeled into the operating room into an image of him in his car seat driving home.

I’m not saying my thoughts have superhero tendencies, (because he ended up having a virus), but it made me ponder how potent positive thinking can be.  At this age how easy/difficult is it to maintain a positive outlook?  And do we have the power to manifest our own destiny?

I’m sure in some religious factions I could be scolded because God would be that captain of our trip.  But tons of literature supports the power of positive thinking and its domino effect on not only your personal life but on your community.  I love reading the recent positive affirmations on facebook.  The gratitude posts put a happy spin in the universe…and, like a boomerang or a reflection, should attract more joy and thankfulness.

But can actually thinking positively about what you want make a dream materialize? Or are we all like Silent Bob attempting our own Jedi mind tricks?

In 2006 I read the popular book, The Secret, along with 19 million others.   Most recently I read a 1940s title with similar themes interlaced with a more “faith in God to provide” slant, The Wisdom of Florence Scovel Shinn.  These two works advocate visualizing, practicing gratitude, and putting it out there to shape your world.  Have you ever thought of a song and then a minute later heard it on the radio?  Or slept with your future husband’s business card under your pillow practically willing him to ask you out?  If so—then you might have an inkling that our mental powers can cause our wants to appear.   

When I was in 8^th grade I spoke in an oratorical contest with “Destiny, Choice Not Chance” as the topic to extrapolate.  Back then I was convinced that my life would be a series of choices.  With more than a fourteen year-old’s perspective, however, now I realize that yes, along with life decisions to make we have the choice to focus on conscious optimism. And that powerful thinking allows our wishes to come true.  I invite you to try it—write down a goal, say some affirmations, or ask aloud what you want--and see how your magical, mental energy can make it real.  It’s a healthy and contagious way to live.  Mind over matter?  Maybe just mind what truly matters to you.

Can I Rise Up To My Pizza Dough Belly?

My kids love pepperoni roll—an easy dinner of gooey goodness. Last year when the kids helped me make it one of my cuties observed, “The pizza dough looks just like your belly, Mom.” And indeed it did. Instead of gushing about how it’s a badge of motherhood—(I’ve never liked espousing that), or making excuses for my stretch marks, I just laughed and said, “Yup, you’re right.” Because the kid was spot on.

But it’s not just post-baby body changes. Before I turned 40 one of my girlfriends warned me that everything I knew about my body was about to dramatically transform--fluctuating hormones, a sluggish metabolism, thinning hair, and practically non-existent eyelashes, to name a few. Having a mole biopsied in June woke me up to realize that yes, times are a-changing, and I started regretting my teenage Banana Boat Ultimate Tanning lotion years.

Middle-aged women, how do we see ourselves? And how is our self-reflection mirroring to others?

For the first time in my life serious conversations of Botox and at what age for your first chemical peel swirl around coffee chats. And then I think, who has the time to really deliberate which night cream is the most productive to reverse signs of aging? I do get my hair highlighted—am I just contributing to some societal standard? I read Good Housekeeping yesterday, and 8 of the first 9 advertisements promote products to make me look younger; hence, healthier and more vibrant.

So, no surprise, plastic surgery and Botox are on the rise. From 2011-2012 cosmetic procedures grew 6% for 40-54 year-olds.* For a broader perspective-- since 1997 the number of cosmetic procedures for women increased over 471%. That constitutes $11 billion on cosmetic procedures in 2012 in America.**

If this generation is more educated, has gained broader experiences, has broken through glass ceilings, why are we striving for a body ideal more so than our mothers’ generation?

When I was a first-year in undergrad Naomi Wolf spoke to a chapel filled with eager, on the brink of their own feminist thoughts women. To be honest, at that age I half-listened to her warnings of how society’s high standards of beauty were worsening. I had youthful skin, no children, and I wasn’t really “out in society” feeling pressures yet. But now I realize how her warnings have manifested.

More recently the Dove Self-Esteem Project warns that the negative language we use to talk about our bodies, and when critiquing other women, harms our youth’s self-confidence leading to unhealthy eating and exercise habits—even to anorexia and bulimia. And to add stress, Dana Hunsinger Benbow in a USA Today article states that “It's not the media or skinny, out-of-proportion Barbie dolls or even peer pressure that is the No. 1 cause of body issues for young girls. It's their mothers.”

Yikes.

Listen—I’m not judging. More wondering and observing. Is it worth it? In this next decade will we be more alert to our appearances—more than ever? And what is the ripple effect of these ubiquitous body enhancements on the next generation?

I have no answers—this is a conversation—but for now, I “knead” to simply roll, (with pepperoni), and hopefully be as real, honest, and accepting about the many physical changes ahead. It certainly is a lot to digest.

“You could see the signs of female aging as diseased, especially if you had a vested interest in making women, too see them your way. Or you could see that a woman is healthy if she lives to grow old; as she thrives, she reacts and speaks and shows emotion, and grows into her face.”

Naomi Wolf, The Beauty Myth

 

* American Society of Plastic Surgeons http://www.plasticsurgery.org/Documents/news-resources/statistics/2012-Plastic-Surgery-Statistics/full-plastic-surgery-statistics-report.pdf

** American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery http://www.surgery.org/sites/default/files/ASAPS-2012-Stats.pdf

http://selfesteem.dove.us/Articles/Written/Body_talk_use_the_power_of_your_words_to_feel_great.aspx

http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2013/08/23/moms-daughters-influence-body-image/2690921/

Dive in and Take Another Chance: 5 Lessons Learned From Summer Swim Team

Last year my oldest son cried when he did not make the summer swim team. So this past May when he wanted to try out again I cringed. I even suggested he not take the chance. Mom of the Year told him not to—better than fail, I thought to myself. The cold and rainy tryout day? I secretly was happy that maybe I could convince him to stay home. For a kid who did not swim the entire school year I thought he was crazy to attempt once more. And be disappointed. As we waited in line for his turn he turned to me and said, “Maybe I should have taken some lessons.” And then what shocked me? He jumped in the pool and completed four lengths of what looked like freestyle, backstroke, and creative interpretations of breaststroke and butterfly. When the coaches told Jack that he made the team he looked at me with the same blue eyes as the year before, but this time I saw pure excitement. And my heart soared. What if we had stayed home and played the Wii that afternoon?

No, this is not a bragging piece about my kid’s summertime swimming sojourn. Instead, over the last few months I noodled over the notions about what we can learn from youth. Proudly I saw a lot of growth in an 8 year-old. Why not internalize some lessons as I watched him this summer? Who’s to say we shouldn’t look at our kids—nieces, nephews, students, neighbors--and inject some of their youthful zeitgeist? We’re still young-at-heart, right?

Top Lessons this 40 Year-Old Learned from My Son this Summer:

1.       The Stakes Aren’t as High as Adults Think: Kids don’t overanalyze every possible outcome, what people will think, and how decisions could affect their life ever after. They live much more in the present.

2.      Sheer Focus Leads to Success: My son wouldn’t put his feet down at that swimming tryout—the same applies to our lives. Don’t give up easily—keep paddling even if you’re tired. Remember your goals.

3.      Practice Does Perfect: While an Olympic tryout isn’t in my son’s near future, after two months he can swim all four strokes. When you want to improve in life, you need to dedicate the time to improve. You undoubtedly will.

4.      Cheer Loudly for Your Teammates: Aren’t we all in this together? Celebrate the successes of your friends and peers—it feels good; it is pure fun. And your friends appreciate the thoughtfulness.

5.      Have Faith in Yourself: Even if no one else believes in you, (even your mother), go for it. Be brave. You are the master of your own destiny. That experience is powerful—and will stay with you for the rest of your life.

When you need a boost of confidence or are afraid to be humbled—remember, our children face those moving moments each and every day. And they survive. Even thrive sometimes. Dive right in yourself. And be mindful of that kid kicking inside you—and if you need to, collect some mental ribbons of your successes. Just trying your best can be good enough. I think about that May day and if Jack didn’t try--not only would he have not learned to love a new sport, but I, too, would have missed out on learning some important life lessons.

“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experiences.” 

-- Eleanor Roosevelt

 

Are we just trying to raise “super people” who are afraid to fail? Read this article for more insight.  http://www.newrepublic.com/article/118747/ivy-league-schools-are-overrated-send-your-kids-elsewhere

The Brunch Club: The 40-Something Stereotypes

At the pool the other day I watched my 10 year-old daughter hang out with her peers. After observing for five minutes this amateur sociologist noticed an alpha girl, and the rest could easily be labeled into characters from the 1985 iconic movie, The Breakfast Club. What amazed me was how quickly such typecasts unfolded.

Yes, labels exist. Even if we wish they did not. It’s human nature to organize, to recognize patterns. Why else would so many people be interested in taking those descriptive quizzes, like “What Force of Nature are You? What Type of Parent are You? What Mineral are You? What is Your Old Person Name?”* Are we so unsure of ourselves that we seek validation? A sense of belonging? Curiosity? Amusement?

In 1943 William Foote Whyte’s Street Corner Society was published, a classic in field research canvassing the social structure of Boston’s Italian North End. I read that book in graduate school, and to this day, I could put my feet in his shoes. But instead of observing immigrants in the poor section of town I would rather write about the phenomenon in the surrounding suburbs-- the patterns surfacing with middle-aged women. While I would guess that most of my friends, and I included, would assert we have high confidence levels, feel good about life decisions made, and have nothing to prove-- still, a natural grouping, a classification reveals—of each other, by us. At our age Breakfast Club-esque labeling occurs, and while I’m not saying it is right, just like in high school, certain patterns emerge.

From my corner I see these following 40-Something Women in the Brunch Club, (because, let’s face it, we’d rather attend a meal with mimosas and Bloody Marys):

1.      The Triathlete: Maybe she does not compete in three sports, but she belongs to the faction of fitness buffs who pride themselves on keeping in shape.

2.      The Volunteer: The woman who somehow has the energy and time to devote to tons of committees.

3.      The Organic Health-Food Nut: She walks around sipping a green smoothie combining kale, chia seeds, and blueberry.

4.      The Has-It-All: She has a good-looking spouse, wonderfully behaved children, and a posse of perfect friends.

5.      The Sports Mom: She cheers the loudest on the field, constantly chauffeuring her kids to the next practice, game, or match.

6.      The Minivan Maven: She showers every other day, can’t find lipstick in her grimy cupholders, and is fueled by coffee and wine.

7.      The Anti-Establishment Chick: The one who vows to not be like any of the other groups of women, so, in a sense, is in her own clique of Ally Sheedys.

As in the John Hughes movie, if you had to compose a 1,000 word essay about who you are—think, not only about yourself, but those around you. Are you a victim of a stereotype? Or the one passing judgment? Most likely we all have more in common than the surface reveals. The next time you “walk on by” get to know someone first. Every single woman I know has battled her own share of fertility issues, miscarriages, family estrangements, health scares, and relationship disappointments, to name a few. Remember: “We are all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it.” –The Breakfast Club

 

 

 

*Quizzes taken from the websites http://www.survley.com/ and http://www.playbuzz.com/

**”Walk on by” is taken from Simple Minds’ Don’t You(Forget About Me), the theme song from The Breakfast Club

Never Stop Improving

“Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Sure, that common expression applies if it’s around 750 BC. But if you’re more like my husband and I, you may live in the suburbs and be Lowe’s poster children to their “Never Stop Improving” slogan.  I feel like our house and landscaping projects will only be completed when we sell the house and move to assisted living. We’re no aqueduct architects. But even with simple projects, and more ideas popping up on the wish list, sometimes I wonder how endless the progress pursuit is.

I wonder why we keep doing more. Because when I work to improve I feel productive? Fulfilled? Alive?  As soon as one project finishes I start dreaming and plotting the next one. A guy I dated in my early twenties told me that I’ll never be happy because I’ll never be satisfied…which bothered me…(obviously, if I’m still thinking about it 15 years later). Because I was happy then, and I’m happy now. So what if I’m that person eating from a tub of caramel popcorn who takes bite after bite seeking a perfect blend of puffiness, salt, crunch, and sweetness?

Of course there is always more out there. To do. To learn. To help. To change.  

That made me think. In life, should our goal be...to never be satisfied? To constantly search for that ideal kernel of caramel popcorn? That way we build energy as we dream and create. Always having a to-be state means having something to shoot for—an arrow representing motion, meaning life.

Because if we don’t find contentment will we become complacent? If we stop improving and complacency kicks in like a pond with no filter or fountain…do we become as murky, stinky, and gunky as the standing water? Interestingly—both “content” and “complacent” have similar definitions--feelings of being satisfied with how things are. Yet the latter has a negative connotation. Sometimes I wonder if we should strive to be still, to be mellow and content. I think of Frank Sinatra’s “Strangers in the Night”—or really, those 1996 Bud Ice penguins crooning “Do Be Do Be Do.” We live in a constant balance between the “do” and the “be”--accomplish vs. relax.

If stillness--to just “be”-- is the end goal, what does that look like? That someday I’ll sip a glass of cool lemonade on my porch, look at pretty landscaping, and think, wow, I’ve done it—and I’m content. Then what? I do the same thing the next day? Over and over...is that fulfilling? Comforting? Bringing satisfaction? I’m not convinced…or maybe that’s just fuel to justify more improvement projects.

Like Mick Jagger sang I’ll probably always be in the chorus of not getting satisfaction. But that does not equate to overall happiness and joy. There is worth in seeking and improving because it manifests as creative, living energy. Maybe Lowe’s home improvement outlet has it right...and that making changes brings excitement, stimulating, um, life’s highs.