Maybe one day I'll laugh about this

Maybe one day I’ll look back and think this story is funny. But, right now I’m relieved, not laughing.

Yesterday morning, still blissfully unaware of the roadblock I was about to hit, I posted a little thing about joy. It was about how I missed it, how I wanted it, and how I was going to look for it in the small stuff this holiday season. Great, fine.

I then went upstairs to change into my running clothes. As I pulled on my shoes, a question came into my head- seemingly out of nowhere, “Hey you! Did your passport expire in October? I think it did. You might want to check.”

If you’re familiar with our travel plans, you might understand the system jolt and wave of nausea that came next. It was Thanksgiving Day. We were scheduled to leave for Paris the next day- my girls, my sisters, and my mom. It’s not something that just came up last week. We’ve been planning and talking about it for, like, MONTHS. I stood on the hamper to reach top of the closet, falling through the wicker top. I didn't care. I pulled down the fire-safe box, climbed out of the laundry, and confirmed my suspicion. Yep. My passport had expired on October 16, 2018.

Brian watched the scene (and my rising panic) from his side of the bed then shifted into superhero gear. He started with all the right words to turn the volume and intensity down the “I’m such a fucking idiot” loop spewing out of my mouth. He assured me everything would be okay and started planning.

Both on our phones and computers, we paid for services from a 24-hour passport company, made an appointment at the DC passport office for first thing Friday morning, called CVS to confirm they’d take a passport picture, and called United to check on alternative flights.

I then had to call my family. Gulp.

They were busy chilling Chardonnay and mashing potatoes. Sensing the urgency wasn’t about a missing Thanksgiving ingredient, they gathered around on the speaker phone to hear the news. There was a small gasp folled by a second of silence. And then, they too swung into action- more reassurances and more practical solution-ing.

Within minutes the bat call went out to every friend and family member associated with the State Department or anyone they’d heard of who’d needed a passport in a hurry.

The resounding answer that came back was, yes. It's possible to get a passport on the same day. "Just get there early, have all your paperwork, and be patient."

We agreed not to talk about it at Thanksgiving- as I wasn’t going to tell the girls. I couldn't tell the girls. I was facing one of the biggest mom fails in history. I couldn't stand it.

We had a lovely Thanksgiving and everyone played their part. Back home, worry set in again. Random memories popped and popped. I recalled a meeting here, parking there, a dinner conversation, and various phone calls. I kept asking myself, “why didn’t I think of it then? That would have been a great time to remember the expiration date. Why was it triggered the day before the trip while putting on my running shoes?" I don’t know but have a guess.

I couldn't sleep last night and wasn’t surprised. I had one shot.

At 7:45am this morning, I went through security at the big downtown passport office. I was greeted by an army of pleasant staff and an incredibly efficient operation. I kept looking for the person I'd have to plea and cry to. They seemed completely unphased and just did their jobs.

Three hours later, I had my brand-new passport in hand.

So, what?

The last couple of months, I’ve had some intermittent anxiety and difficulty focusing. Feeling far from home or disconnected makes these feelings worse. Early one morning this past week, I was teary when I whispered a guilty thought to Brian. I wasn’t really looking forward to the trip. I know this sounds so totally awful and selfish and ungrateful. And, I’m sorry about that.

The funny thing, though, is this. The moment the trip was in jeopardy, getting on the plane became all I wanted to do. The anxiety and distraction evaporated. Perhaps it was the universe’s way of smacking me in the face with a little perspective- five days in a beautiful city with some of my favorite people in the world. I can do this.

In a couple hours, we are off. And for that, I am so thankful.

Given the whirlwind over the last couple of hours. I’ve decided to augment my little joy-spotting project with gratitude. I am so, so grateful. Grateful for Brian who is always on my team. Grateful to my family for their strength and positivity. Grateful for street parking right outside of the passport office. Grateful to the most cheerful CVS clerk who snapped my picture on Thanksgiving morning. Grateful to anyone who reads my ramblings. And, of course, so, so grateful for the opportunity to spend this time with my girls, sisters, and mom.

Gros bisous! Until we meet again... in Paris!

The answer is E. All of the above

It’s horrible and heartbreaking and…utterly predictable. We had another school shooting. I’m just one of millions who are sick about it and trying to make sense of the senseless.

What I will say is that the reactions this time feel different. The voices demanding that “something must be done” seem louder and are coming from people I haven’t heard speak up before.

It’s the discussion of what that “something” is that has me thinking. The very serious, complex problem of mass gun violence is being met with a chorus of seemingly simple solutions. Everyone seems to have a different idea of what the source of the violence is and how to fix it.

A.  It’s loose gun laws and the NRA. We should out the motives of politicians who take their money and create stricter laws around gun buying.

B.  It’s mentally ill people. The stigma, lack of training in recognizing symptoms, and barriers to care are real issues. We have to increase the quality and amount of mental health care service in this country, and make it more available to those who need it.

C.  It’s the ease of getting into public buildings. More metal detectors at schools and government buildings would deter would-be shooters from even trying, and stop those who do try. We need to increase security and screening for all our public institutions.

D.  It’s the lack of information. We still don’t fully understand why mass shootings happen, or what things could be done to prevent them from happening in the future. Research shines a light on the causes and effects. We need to further investigate possible causes and contributing factors like violence in the media, illegal gun sales, and lack of education.

Of course, saying that all mass shootings stem from one of these issues is a false choice. The right answer is E. All of the above.

What’s remarkable to me about this challenge is that we all agree on a desired end goal: No more shootings. No more senseless murders. And even with so much agreement, we’re still stuck on how to get to that end goal.

We’d be much further along if our answer to every proposed solution was “yes, and…” instead of “no, but…” The notion that there’s a single, silver bullet solution out there is as ridiculous as it is ironic. If only it were so simple.

The reality is that all these factors and many more contribute to the epidemic of mass shootings in our country. Toxic masculinity, teaching young boys that violence makes them strong and empathy makes them weak, and an ever-increasing focus on incarceration over rehabilitation all contribute. Which means that our solution must be just as multifaceted if it’s to be effective.

So, while we’re waiting on God to answer our “thoughts and prayers,” isn’t there something else I can do? After all, I’m just sitting here—waiting while obsessively clicking the sad and angry emojis.

I can’t sign bills into law myself, but I can sign petitions, make calls, march, and vote. I can’t check someone into a mental institution, but I can advocate for more community mental health resources, seek help for those I know who are at risk, and speak-up when I see threatening comments and behavior. I can’t stand in front of the school every day and check credentials, but I can follow the rules myself. I can support budget requests for security. I can show up to city council meetings and write letters to the editor. I can make my support clear to our teachers and administrators. (In a moment of desperate imagination, I saw redesigned school uniforms redesigned with built-in bullet-proof vests.) I can’t crunch the numbers but I can support research and science that helps us better understand what causes and prevents mass shootings, and why.

As I write this, I feel some pressure to get this thought out while it’s still fresh. And then a little voice says, “Don’t worry. You can write this piece after the next one.” I don’t want there to be a next one. But there will be a next one as long as we hang on to the idea that there is a single (even big) solution out there.

Instead, let’s address all of the above.

The Rules on the Bus Go 'Round and 'Round

I went on a field trip this week. It was just me, a couple dozen other moms, and as many teachers. Oh, the entire first grade at my daughter’s school was there too. Seven buses pulled up. Walkie-talkies were involved. Kids were counted and recounted. And then, seven buses pulled away.

Right away, I was happy- or relieved, I should say. We won the bus seat lottery and got the 2nd row. This is because Marin is the self-nominated line leader serving a no-limit term. We were next to the teacher and a bunch of other ponytailed girls. I sent a little “see ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya” wish of luck to my co-chaperone: Mom #2 in the back with the boys.

As I do when I’m the passenger in any moving vehicle, I immediately grabbed my purse and dug for my phone. This move got Marin’s attention.

She said, “Do you have your water bottle?”

“Yes, are you thirsty?”

“No, I just want to make sure you don’t drink it. There’s no drinking on the bus,” she said pointing to the black and white sticker above the driver. She read it to me. “No eating, talking loudly, or getting up.” She went on (adlibbing), “You have to face the front at all times. And, no singing.”

“You made that last one up.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t like when you act crazy in front of my friends.”

“What if I sing quietly?”

“No. Let’s play the animal game.” She seemed anxious to get me engaged in some productive, non-embarrassing activity.

So, we did.

Then after some stops and starts in traffic, we arrived. All gazillion of us got off the buses and started the 14-mile trek to the theater. It was 3 degrees, and the winds were whipping at, like, 40 miles per hour. It was cold.

As I do when I’m trying to pass the time, I got curious and started to interview those around me. I hung back in the line to ask the other kids what they were looking forward, whether they’d ever been to a show, what their moms packed for lunch, etc.

The line leader gave me this look.

She was not amused. I looked at the ground and hurried back to my place at the front.

The show was the show. It was a musical about a monkey making meatballs. It eventually ended.

We made our way back to the bus and reclaimed our 2nd-row seat.

This time, I was determined to make Marin proud and follow the rules. For her, that’s having a good time. And, of course, when she's happy I'm happy. I wanted her to be glad I came on the trip. It’s both about enjoying the morning together and one of those motherhood box-checking exercises. I must admit that part of this is me wanting her to remember me going on field trips- and following the rules.

Chaperoning is part of a long, complicated equation that weighs fairness, school involvement, kid wishes, and other stuff. My hope in the end is that I've strung together enough experiences that add up more than they subtract.

The plan for the plan

I like a good plan. Actually, I just like a plan.

A plan can’t be judged as good or bad until later, so I can’t worry about it. At any given moment, I like to know the goal and how we’re going to get there. That’s why I like planning with clients. And, that’s why every weekend starts with a family meeting that only ends after we have a bulleted list and what we’re going to accomplish with our 2 “home days.” Many, many years ago I was told by a boyfriend that dating me was like being in the Army. I was so flattered (and mean no disrespect to our actual armed forces.)

My goals and resolutions are screaming for a plan. Whether they know it or not, the fam needs some goals and a plan too. So, I need to come up with something for them (with their input, of course.)

As a start on my list, here’s what I’d like to work on. I’m going to pick one a month and make a little 30-day challenge out of it. If you read the blog earlier in the week, you know that the writing one is first up for January.

1. Write consistently. This means writing just to write, writing for the blog, and for business stuff like Inc and Alexa. I will re-establish my daily writing habit by getting 500 words on the page each day without worrying about what. This goal is just about being disciplined about writing something, anything.
2. Better catalog ideas. This goal is partly about reading more books but not completely. I read a lot of non-fiction now but most business books are really just a single idea drawn out for tens of thousands of unnecssary words. I’ll read the book summaries I get and pull the ideas out. What I need is a better system for cataloging and capturing the ideas I want to follow-up on in some way.
3. Learn how to compile and edit videos. I have a lot of family videos and want to take more. I want to post them purely to prove to the kids later on that their childhood wasn’t, in fact, like being in the Army, and that we had fun too.
4. Reduce clutter. This will be my list of “to dos” for the rest of my life. The house, my computer, and my brain just require constant attention and ruthless editing. Bring it.
5. Increase confidence in public speaking. I want to feel more confident in front of an audience. This would be at conferences and presentations- not meetings. Even if the same number of people are in the room, I’m fine to lead a group through exercises and an agenda. I start to tighten up though if I’m there to convey any information and be authoritative on a topic.
6. Market differently. I sell work now through two primary means- referrals and follow-ons. I’d like to stretch and try different ways to market and sell work.
7. Try new recipes. Our current process rocks, I must say. Everything is planned and groceries are delivered each week. There are rarely last-minute trips to the store. However, we get into ruts and eat some of the same things each week because I know the kids like them. I’d like to get them trying new things, so I could do better at coming up with ideas for inducing new recipes.

Some of these ideas came from the Ink+Volt list. Others are just things I want to do. Over the next couple of days, I’ll figure out what makes sense for February. They aren’t ordered in any way. And, I still need to add the kid’s stuff.

If we’re related by blood or marriage (or just good friends) and have other things you’d like to see me work on, I’ll talk to you offline. 😊

Skipping Rocks

I should probably write something. But, I can’t. For God’s sake, people, there is a missing library book. The Gap is offering another 40 percent off online. They’d be disappointed if I didn’t at least click around a little bit. And, don’t even get me started on email. I have unanswered (possibly important) emails from, like, clients and coworkers. Who could focus on writing when there are all these other things to do? I’ll write when my plate is clean. While distractions abound...

The real reason I haven’t written in a while is that I haven’t written in a while.

Since I'm already avoiding writing, come with me on a little visualization.

Imagine dozens of rocks in a stream. They’re roughly scattered in a line- just higher than the flushing water below. They form a path from one bank to the other. The rocks are each about the size of my foot and worn smooth. They’re my habits. Each day, I make it across and back, from day to night, hopping from one habit to the next.

Rock #1: Wake up and look at my phone. Let the dog out. Pour a cup of coffee while looking at my phone.

Rock #2: Sit down at my desk and immediately open email. Remind myself that I shouldn’t be opening email. Read the subject lines and tell myself they can wait. Respond to a couple anyway. Review my calendar for the day. Have the thought that I should check the news real quick with a little promise not to get sucked in. Get sucked in. Feel depressed.

Rock #3: Hear the kids wake up and start down the stairs. Quietly berate myself for not writing as the window of opportunity closes. Vow to get up earlier and write tomorrow.

And, so on…

The important rocks are lined up for a reason. I occasionally skip one or two or veer off to the side. The next day, I’m tempted to skip them again because I know I can. So, I do. I'll still make it across. "Those rocks will be there tomorrow," I think. Later, I remind myself why I have to step on each one. They’re not just my responsibilities; they’re my aspirations too.

For many, many days in a row, I skipped the writing rock. I have my excuses handy but I'll spare you. That changes today.

I will write 500 words each day going forward. This won’t count the thousands of necessary “who is picking up the kids?” kind of logistical messages I write. It also won’t count the things I'm (grateful to be) paid to produce. These 500 will be just my words on the page for the good-enough reason that I enjoy doing it. Of those 500, I’ll post some. Others, I’ll delete in disgust. The rest will be saved for the mythical day when I’ll have more time to come back and rework them.

Why? For 2018, one of my goals is to write more. And for me, writing more means writing consistently.

I believe that reaching a big goal requires us to break it down into hundreds of tiny pieces. What seems overwhelming at first is actually freeing. Setting a goal that will take six months to achieve is actually signing up for six monthly, 26 weekly, or roughly 180 daily goals, for example. The daily action taken to reach the big goal is a habit. It's a new rock that I must thoughtfully place in the stream with the commitment to step on it each day.

So, here I go...