Two ways to elicit a smile from me this time of year:  Staples commercials and “Schools in Session” signs being posted.  Mine is a lifelong tradition of being excited at this time of year, but coming from very different perspectives.  I used to love school as a kid and couldn’t wait to get back and see my teachers, get my new books, new pencils, and of course, new school clothes.  Then in college I just couldn’t wait to get back to see my friends and get on with my “real” life.  When I became a teacher I couldn’t wait to meet my new students.  And now as a parent, well, I just can’t wait for a quiet house!!!

A friend and I were talking about this yesterday and we decided that the kids have had 2 months of vacation – now the parents should have a month off.  We’re not asking for much:  just 50% of what the kids got.  Instead of going back to work or laundry or committees, we should just go on holiday.  How lovely that would be?!  There – a third way to make me smile!

The truth is, taking a break from any routine, regardless of how much you love it or not, is very important.  And although a month’s vacation sounds idyllic, even the few hours of a quiet house will be therapeutic.  It’s important to have a change of routine and  to take a break, regardless of how long it may be.  Workers today most often eat lunch at their desk, or in their cars, and don’t give their bodies the downtime they need.  A few minutes change of routine is enough to stop the continual flow of adrenaline and stress hormones – something that is necessary to curb or you’ll find yourself facing physical ailments in the long term.

So it is wise and appropriate that our forefathers (mothers?) decreed that we celebrate  and honor the laborers – by taking a break from it!  I’ll be more than happy to partake in this tradition and give myself a few kudos while relaxing on the beach.  And next week, when my kids go off to school, I’ll be celebrating and honoring them as well – along with a few million other parents.

Happy Un-Labor Day everyone!!

Children should come with a label saying “Slippery when Wet”.  That’s what I was thinking when I was watching a toddler rushing gleefully towards the waves this weekend at the shore.  Visions of my trying to grab a slippery toddler in a bathtub or at the beach collided in my mind with screeching “DANGER” warnings, as I watched a young father nonchalently let his adorable little girl dash toward the waves…on a beach that had posted “BEACH CLOSED DUE TO DANGEROUS RIPTIDES” signs!  It took all I had not to either get up and run after the little girl or yell at the dad.  Finally, after the family’s third trek down to the waves, I, as politely as I could muster, “mentioned” to the mother that the beach here was closed.  She gave me that look like, well, perhaps I had once given to some meddling old lady back when I was a young mom myself who’d just been told what to do by a stranger.  It’s tough being the parent to the entire beach!

As I sat and stewed, and got more and more agitated with each person that trying to test their luck with the aforementioned waves, I realized a couple of things.  One, that I could not be a lifeguard – WAY too stressful!  I had to call my dad and give him kudos for actually being one at the Jersey Shore.  His stature has just risen immensely in my eyes.

The other thing I realized was that this was not about all those people.  This was about me.

Anytime I have a reaction that is strong…and stays that way…it’s a sure sign that it is about something more than the situation at hand.  Whether I’m older or wiser now, it doesn’t matter:  what matters is that I can now recognize it and am willing to figure it out.

So my take away?  Losing my grip on a child.  It’s not about my fear for that adorable little girl – although that was real – it was about me, losing my grip on my own kids.  One is going back to college in a few weeks and really, won’t be here all that much more after that.  Another is starting his senior year of high school and therein lies a WHOLE lot of changes!  And my “baby” is starting high school!  Between all their wriggling through life, it is impossible for me to have tight hold any longer.  I have just got to learn to be ok with this natural ebb and flow of life!

The next time I go to the beach I will do a couple things differently: 1) I won’t sit right up close to the shore, 2) I will find a place away from the crowds, and 3) I’ll take deep, cleansing breaths, grateful for all that I DO have!  Kids may be slippery creatures, but I still think they’re worth it!

I had to send a thank you note to Mr. Velvet for letting me stay in his room.  It was the least I could do since I invaded his space and evidently upset him.  So I sent him a card saying “Meowcias Gracias” with a note of what I thought was proper respect for any inconvenience I’d put him under.  Mr. Velvet, in case you were wondering, is my sister’s cat.

I have nothing against cats.  I’d have one of my own if my children weren’t allergic to them.  I do happen to be a dog lover and own a couple of them, a fact which did not escape Mr. Velvet’s inquisitive nose.  He greeted me with the customary sniff test of the fingers and proceeded to the toes, at which point I figured he had assessed that although,yes, I cavorted with the enemy, I could be trusted.  But when I went to pet him…oh, no.  That was just not happening.  He raised his paw up as if to say “Oh no you di’int!”  The only thing I can think of, besides perhaps some offending smell, was my attempt to communicate with him.  You see, I think I do a pretty mean “meow”. Pretty spot on, if you ask me.  But I’m wondering if maybe in some strange way, I’m actually saying something really offensive in “cat-ese”.  Like some sort of Borat-ism attempt at a foreign language.  Evidently it must have been something quite bad because when I left, Mr. Velvet threw up all over the room I stayed in.  (Obviously Mr. Velvet is a Midwestern cat, holding it in until I left.  An East Coast cat would have done it in front of me).

So, truly humbled, I make my apologies to Mr. Velvet and any other felines I may have offended in my attempts to be “cute”. Geez, I wonder how many cows are angry with me too?

The other day I awoke early and got ready in a dimly lit room, trying not to wake anyone.  I kept applying makeup, as it didn’t seem to be “taking”.  By the time I got out into the car and the daylight and looked at myself in the mirror there, the only words that came to mind were “I’m ready for my close-up now, Mr. DeMille”.

I’ve become someone who is very sensitive to light – not in the sense that I can’t bear to be out in it.  But more so that I am extremely attuned to it.  I will notice if there is a change to anything in the environment, like a tree being removed, which affects the light patterns.  I even think of my life in terms of light vs dark.  Being a very visual person, if I “see” a picture of a scene from any particular time in my life, I see it in shades of brightness, depending on the emotional context.  I once was trying to explain to a client that his company was a “light” environment for me versus others that I had worked with.  Not so sure he got it, or me, but I know I was at least entertaining to him!

Letting the light in to my life, from the literal to the spiritual, has been a transitional process.  I was reflecting on how even my choice of housing has been indicative of how much or how little light I was willing to allow into my life.  My first apartment was a basement apartment:  enough said.  I was definitely in a shut down/cocoon stage of my life at that point.  I progressed to an attic apartment, but with not much window space there either, and then moved to a place in the woods.  Next was an apartment with dark woodwork and did I even open my curtains?  Finally, my life started to turn and I lived in houses with big windows that let in lots of light, just as I was allowing light to flow in and out of me.

This summer my goal has been to have a deep tan.  I know – very shallow of me!  But getting it means I am spending a lot of time outside, soaking up that Vitamin D (with sunscreen, of course), and letting that light just soak on in.  It’s a nice reminder to me of the need to be open to that which is around me.  And a better one than a Gloria Swanson makeup lesson!

I think in a past life I must have been a scientist or an alchemist because most of this life I have spent searching for the magic formula – for just about everything.  I try to figure out just what I can and can’t eat in order to lose weight, what to do to feel better, what to wear to look better;  it all has a certain complexity to it wherein too much of this or too little of that will throw the whole thing off.  No wonder I often feel exhausted!

This awareness came to mind when I was recounting my story of “how I got here” to a new client at work the other day.  I was reflecting on my early days in the field of work/life balance and how it had grabbed me – so much more than my “real” job of selling computers.  Now I see why:  it has all those formulation elements!

I’m realizing that at times in order to feel balanced I need to be in my head and actually figure out the numbers, like yes, you do need 7 hours of sleep so you can’t work on that project till midnight tonight.  I need to actually write out a schedule, being the visual person I am, so I can see where I have breaks, or else my body is in a perpetual state of panic.   And then, once I have “figured it out”, I need to let go, and give control back to my heart, and trust that its all good, regardless of what really happens.

And now, according to my calculations, a swallow more coffee, a trip to the gym, and my day will be launched on the right foot.  Stay tuned for tomorrow’s piece on best laid plans!

I swear I saw George Stephanopoulos on the elliptical machine at the Y this morning.  He even smiled at me the third time I looked at him – a sure sign it was him.  Well, at least that’s the story I’m sticking with today.

I happen to live in an area where there are a few celebrities.  Seeing one at the Y, or the grocery store, or at a soccer game is not terribly uncommon.  But I can’t understand why I, like so many others, still get a little thrill when it happens.  I mean, really, would I get that excited about seeing someone ask the clerk if they had octopus today if it was anyone other than Steven Colbert?  I highly doubt it.

The other day two very engertic and socially minded young men came to my door to encourage me to join their campaign against the government buying animal grade meat to use in school lunch programs (sad but true).  We had a great conversation and I was admiring their dedication to making the world a better place.  As we wound up our conversation, they had one final question:  where do the celebrities live around here?  I assured them that after meeting me, the rest would be downhill.  Somehow I don’t think they believed me.

Today I’m going to carry myself in the stature of a celebrity.  Maybe even wear shades, even though its not sunny.  And its not about getting the attention (although I never mind that!), but more about believing that I am worth it.  No autographs, please…

These days I rarely get a minute to sit and watch TV.    My DVR is about 90% full of shows I tape, thinking some day I’ll get to them.  But 2 of my 3 kids are away this week and somehow just that much less laundry to do has given me a couple extra minutes of free time.  Last night I decided to just do a little channel surfing before diving into the accumulated selection on hand.  And there it was:  “Lady Sings the Blues” – with sweet Billy Dee Williams sweeping me away once more!

I was in college when that movie first came out and I had the soundtrack, which I played over and over (and over and over…).  Just listening to his velvet voice was nothing short of rapture to me.  Oh yes, Diana Ross could sing a little too.  So I guess it really was no surprise that I ended up dating a guy who, after a couple of beers, looked just like Billy Dee!  Truthfully, I never really thought about that connection until last night when I watched the movie again, but it seems that lately I am becoming aware of a lot of things from my past to which I was previously oblivious!

My “Billy Dee” was pretty much the opposite of me – in skin color, nationality, personality, religion, etc.  He was exactly what I needed to take me away from my life.  I was at that time an unhappy, overweight party girl who felt unloved and unlovable.  Imagine my thrill at being noticed by this gorgeous man of the world!  His mere presence in my life caused a stir which rocked its very foundation.  It was my first attempt at risk-taking and breaking away and he was a willing partner in that flight.  Needless to say, just like in the movie, relationships built on that kind of intention rarely last and ours took the usual course.

But what I learned is that sometimes you do need to let others love you when you can’t love yourself.  You need to let others hold you and support you and let you know that yes, you are worth it.  And little by little, you start believing it too.  Only then, when you are strong enough to not need anyone, are you truly able to be in a good, healthy relationship.

I still didn’t have enough time last night to watch all the movie.  But tonight, it’s me and Billy Dee again.  God bless DVRs!

Think you’ve worked through all your issues?   Just visit your childhood home – alone, without any distractions – and you’ll quickly find out the answer.  Add on a high school reunion and a visit with aging parents and you’ve got a psychotherapists dream!  I am happy to report that I came, I saw, I felt…and I survived!  And I grew and healed a bit too.

Because trying to coordinate the social and work calendars of 3 teenagers was becoming the equivalent of herding cats, I made an executive decision that I would be taking the annual journey Michigan alone this summer.  Besides, my dad had just had major surgery and I felt it better if I could spend time alone with him.  No one seemed to care until 2 days before I left, when suddenly they all wanted to go and of course it was my fault that they weren’t going.   Yah, yah, yah, that and the bad weather is my fault too…I’m getting use to this song.

Children properly ignored, I left for my weekend back home.  I met my oldest friend upon arrival, got caught up on lives and gossip, and was getting ready to head over to my parent’s when my mom called to let me know she had a doctor’s appointment, so if I could just “hang out” a while, that would be great.  Super.  Now what?  I got in my car and started to drive aimlessly and that is when they greeted me:  the ghosts of heartaches past.  They were more than happy to welcome me home.  In fact, they probably had tried to do so with each prior visit, but I had too many distractions, between kids or people to see or places to go or things to do.  This time it was just them and me.  And may I just say – it sucked.  There was all the loneliness, all the self-doubt, all the longing for love and finding rejection.  All the feelings I successfully ate or drank away or became too busy to feel in the past, just all too happy to see me again.

So what did I do?  I went to the mall.  Not to buy anything, but to see one of the “scenes of the crime.”  It was a major hangout place in jr. high:  a place to see and be seen.  A place that even the not-quite-cool girls could mingle with the uber-cool high school guys who worked at Baker Shoes.  If I was going to have these ghosts with me, I might as well face them head on.

Of course the mall has changed in the decades since I hung out there, desperately wishing I could be accepted as one of the elite.  But I walked purposefully to where Baker Shoes used to be – and it was still there!  I looked in the window and laughed:  No cool guys working there any longer – only a nice middle-aged woman who looked quizzically at this crazy woman in the window.  One ghost faded away.

Our reunion was really a gathering of a few “girls” from our class for lunch.  A very diverse group made up of representatives from the cool clique to the quiet studious ones to the popular athletic girls.  The groups naturally sat at the tables with those they knew best from high school and I, of course, sat in the middle.  Always.  Had to make sure everyone knew me and liked me and yet never quite feeling they did.  It was hard work back then.

I came to the table armed with my preconceptions based on information from 30 years ago.  As I talked – and more importantly, listened – to the women, I realized in more than one instance I had been horribly mistaken about my assumptions about them.  I had no idea about their lives and what made them act the way they did back then.  I found real compassion and connection with people I never would have thought possible before.  Another ghost faded away.

And then there’s my family.  My dad had had major heart surgery a few weeks back, which went fine.  But a minor stroke post-surgery left this very athletic man a shell of his former self.  My mother and sister (and by the way, God Bless Them!) who have been at his side the whole time, kept trying to soften the blow, saying “Now be prepared…”.  Those ghosts were dancing a jig on my shoulder, giggling in my ear.  After a hug from my mom, my parent’s front door opened – and out walked my dad, tanned and healthy looking!  Sure, he was wobbly and weaker, but he was fully mobile and still had the sparkle in those Paul Newman blue eyes.  Another ghost bit the dust.

And one by one those pariahs of the past lost their hold on me with every laugh, memory or story my family shared.  Their power drained, they’ve become only a reminder of what used to be.  I’m leaving now  – lighter, stronger and more confident.  And also so very grateful I don’t have to relive junior high any more!

I work in a family friendly office and especially in the summer there are children around.  One girl, going into 5th grade, and I have particularly bonded.  I’ve always gotten along with kids that age, having taught them for a few years, and having been one myself and perhaps stuck in that phase psychically.  I’m really just a wise 10 year old flabbergasted to be in this ever-aging body.

Working with kids has given me one of the best tools an entrepreneur or salesperson could have:  know your client.  When I taught, being the low person on the totem pole, I was given all the more challenging kids in my class.  Maybe because I was more youthful and had more energy, maybe because I was a rookie and didn’t know any better, but probably because the other teacher had been there a long time and had her pick first.  In any case, I loved the challenge.  But in a group like that, there was NO WAY you could do one lesson and reach them all:  there were just too many different learning styles and levels from which they were approaching the material.  So I had to learn to observe where they were, what worked for them, and tailor an approach to reach them.  This style has served me time and time again, regardless of the job type or environment.

Today I have a day chocked full of meetings with clients. I can guarantee that no two meetings will be the same because I will not approach any of them the same way.  I’ll ask a few questions and take my cues from them and let them tailor the approach we take.  And I bet they will feel like they have been heard, because in truth, they will have been.

And between my meetings maybe I’ll sit down with my 10 year old friend and talk about something really important, like why her dad won’t let her wear high heels.  Really!  Men…

My son showed me his poor feet the other day and sure enough, he had what I call “New York feet”.  They come from walking blocks and blocks in fashionable shoes in ungodly hot weather in the city.  I figured that only women got this but it makes sense that he would since he is the same kid who, as a toddler, had such fat little feet that it actually made the kindly old shoe store man work hard to try to find something to fit him.

I was thinking about how many times I have tried to make my life fit into an attractive package so that it looked good on the outside but in truth I was very uncomfortable inside.  Actually more times than I’d like to count.   I would come home with “New York feet of the Soul (Sole?)”, in pain and miserable and swearing I would never do that again.  And then, a few days later, I’d be right back at it because, as Fernando (aka Billy Crystal) would say “It’s not how you feel, it’s how. You. Look!”  I would suffer with the wrong fit in relationships, in jobs, in friendships, in living arrangements – anything as long as I felt it at least made me look “mahvelous”.

And then interestingly enough, one day I would find myself in a situation that fit well and boy, what a difference!!  If you only ever wear shoes that are too small and then one day get a pair that really fit you will know what I am talking about.  It is like night and day.  Having something that fits well changes your whole attitude!  You are no longer in pain – physical, psychic, emotional or mental.  You are free of constraints and open to possibilities.  You are not living in fear of the next step and what it may bring.  It truly opens up your world.

I am finally learning to notice when something is not fitting me well.  That step I have down pretty well.  I’m now working on learning to do something about it before the pain becomes unbearable.  The time frame between noticing it and actually doing something about it is shortening, but there is a lot of room for improvement.

Life is meant to be worn like a loose garment.  I’m getting more and more comfortable with that style every day.