Cracking the Moronic Code

I've decided that my husband and I should not be allowed to put children to bed, due to the fact that we essentially turn into morons after 7pm. Sometimes it takes us so long to put each child to bed that we find ourselves eating breakfast once they finally get to sleep, since it's practically dawn anyway.

While this last part might be a bit of an exaggeration, our children's nighttime routines were indeed stretching into the precious hours of our parent-only time, making us wonder if this bedtime behavior was normal.  I therefore began asking fellow parents what time they put their kids to bed. Unfortunately, I received answers that shook me to my mother-lovin' core.

"7:30" was the first answer given.

Hmmm. I asked them to repeat that answer because surely they misunderstood me.  I was certain they thought I'd asked what time they ate dinner.

Nope, it turned out they heard me just fine.  All of their children- even the oldest, age 9, is in bed by 7 freakin' 30.

I was shaken because I'd been expecting a validating response like, "Oh, Lord, bedtime???!!!! It takes us FOREVER to get Precious Georgina and Little Lukey to bed. We are sooooo exhausted every single night!"

So, since I was not getting the validation I was looking for, I decided to do the right thing and ask someone else. Someone who might be more, you know, normal, like us.

And wouldn't you know it, the next parent I asked said the same thing: 7:30. Seriously people!

Not backing down for one minute, I asked yet another two parents and the answers were only slightly better: lights out at 8. Maybe 8:30. One said 9:00, but only on a special occasion, like Halloween, when candy consumption has them dancing on the ceiling.

That's when I began to get the suspicious feeling that we were doing something terribly wrong. Why couldn't we get our children to sleep at a decent hour? Were we complete imbeciles when it came to the night time rituals?

I consulted several pediatric sleep books with titles such as Bedtime Made Easy! Twenty Simple Strategies Even Morons Like You Can Do , but they all contradicted one another, which is why I always dread reading books on raising children: every author professes her method is the only way to successfully guide children to adulthood without failing miserably.

So at my son's annual check-up my husband and I decided to ask the pediatrician what sleep times the children should be getting. The doctor's answer confirmed that while our kids weren't really too far off on their ideal sleeping times, it was enough that they did need more than they were getting. And, most importantly, we learned that we were being majorly played by our offspring. She gently explained to my husband and I that our children were basically taking advantage of our soft spot for together time at the end of the day: reading stories, telling stories, cuddling, asking questions, etc. etc. etc., so on and so forth.

Now, lest you, the reader, think this comportment is sweet and endearing, please understand that it does, in fact, mimic the behavior of ravenous lions preying on helpless, unsuspecting gazelles.

"Oh what a lovely day, Boris,
perfect for meandering through the meadow..."

"That was almost too easy, Sis."

My husband and I have since cracked down on the bedtime nonsense; however, the lions are persistent. Every night we have to keep things moving, otherwise everything will drag out and mom and dad will get frustrated and frazzled and the children will get crabby and ugly everyone will be a big ole mess.

I only mention this ongoing battle in my own little suburban animal kingdom because I'm trying to point out the following:

It's human nature to want things we do not, in any way, need. 

We stay up too late watching TV. Or reading. Or, as The Artist Formally Known As Prince would say, partying like it's 1999. Then the next morning go to work feeling like we've been hit by a semi.

Or perhaps we drink too much coffee or throw down one too many donuts, skip the exercise and treat our bodies like they are mere transporters of our brains.

Then we wonder why they won't work the way they're supposed to.

Everyone has a vice (or five) because we often want what we don't need. But while we can never expect ourselves to behave perfectly, (and nor should we, right? We gotta enjoy life!) there is something to be said for tuning in and recognizing when our minds and bodies are telling us to slow down, or rest, or to rethink how we work and live. We can divert our focus to an activity or food that will nourish us. We can do things in moderation. We can adjust our way of handling stress and stressful people and we can ask for help when we need it. We can make choices, every single day that allow us to push ourselves to do better.

Not necessarily flawless, but at least better.

So now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go share these sentiments with the lions. 'Cause in 12 hours it'll be bedtime and I know they'll be hungry for stalling tactics.

Photos: Creative Commons, Wikipedia, Edupic

All's Quiet in Love

I can hear the crickets chirping around here, 'cause somebody has started kindergarten.

My little guy. My youngest. My baby boy.

I remember when I first had the ultrasound telling me I was having a boy. I'll admit to being a little disappointed. I already had a little girl, mind you, but secretly I'd hoped for another one. This is because:

A. That's what I knew about: girls.

and

B. I love having a sister myself. (And I've got a goodie!)

But mainly because I had no idea how much I would love having a little guy around, with all of his sweet little quirks, a pint-size face peeking out at me underneath a giant baseball cap, constantly asking me to play baseball/hockey/football/soccer or read about baseball/hockey/football/soccer. Giving me the stats on this player or that. Having a rough and tumble personality that is, at the same time, (somehow) kind and precious.

And I had no idea how much my heart would ache when he went off to school, abandoning me to do all of the wonderful things that I've been aspiring to do with my career once I had more time. Leaving me with larger chunks of time and energy to focus on what I need and want to do: to write, to design career education programs, to expand my networks, to work with clients, develop a social media plan and to devour my thick, juicy non-fiction books on careers, creativity, human behavior and the like.

(What can I say? I'm a career geek.)

Yes, I do have more time to do what I love, and for that I'm so very grateful.

I just have to get used to these blasted crickets.

Music Legend Levon Helm: Stick with the Fun Stuff

"I don't fool with a lot of things that I can't have fun with. There's not much reward in that. For instance, after we mixed the album that you couldn't hear over a speaker, I shied away from engineering, you might say." 

-Levon Helm

Drummer/ Singer/
Songwriter/ Actor

1984 interview with Modern Drummer

The World's Toughest Job

APPLY HERE!

Let it Go!

We're big fans of the movie, Frozen, in this house. Someone's either singing about building a snowman, people being better than reindeer, or being the girl we're always meant to be. (When my five year-old son sings the latter while playing a rough 'n tumble game of hockey while in full hockey gear- it's always a lovely juxtaposition.)

I find myself belting out "Let It Go" (not unlike every 10 and under girl in the world- and I just happen to be in my 40's, but whatever) probably because it is such a freeing song and who doesn't like to feel free? And pretend she has the singing chops of Idina Menzel?

So when I happened upon this article by Change.org President and COO, Jennifer Dulski, I was happily reminded of the importance of letting things go and seeing the magic that happens from that release of control. Ms. Dulski points us to the blog post of illustrator/graphic artist extraordinaire, Mica Angela Hendricks (blogging as "busy mockingbird") and her daughter.

This is a wonderful post about the awesomeness of collaborating with our unabashedly imaginative children. So inspiring!

Enjoy!
-Katie

Create Yourself: Tom Waits

“My kids are starting to notice I'm a little different from the other dads. 

'Why don't you have a regular job like everyone else?' they asked me the other day. 

I told them this story: 

In the forest, there was a crooked tree and a straight tree. Every day, the straight tree would say to the crooked tree, 'Look at me...I'm tall, and I'm straight, and I'm handsome. Look at you...you're all crooked and bent over. No one wants to look at you.' And they grew up in that forest together. And then one day the loggers came, and they saw the crooked tree and the straight tree, and they said, 'Just cut the straight trees and leave the rest.' So the loggers turned all the straight trees into lumber and toothpicks and paper. And the crooked tree is still there, 

growing stronger and stranger every day.” 

― Tom Waits, American singer-songwriter, composer and actor

Taken from Lowside of the Road: A Life of Tom Waits by Barney Hoskyns

Turning to a New Year

A college friend once told me that a career is like "a book with many chapters." And though that conversation was a few years ago and I've since dabbled with countless career metaphors, I honestly can't think of a better analogy.  It's so good, in fact, that I believe it can capture the experience of living as well.

A really great life, like a really good book, takes us on a journey. We, the protagonists, seek fulfillment in one form or another.  In our quest we encounter many obstacles along the way but somehow we always find new ways to use our inner strengths to leap over those roadblocks.  We silence the demons of self-doubt, deceive the army of naysayers and slay the dragons of defeat.

Throughout the many chapters of our lives, we survive many changes, losses and heartaches.  But we keep moving forward towards our quest for fulfillment and human connection, which takes on new meaning, growing in spirit, strength and confidence.

At least that's how the story is supposed to go...

But as 2013 is now upon me, beckoning me to move forward, I find myself hesitating. I think about the chapters in my own book of life- especially the part where I play Mommy- and how much I resist turning the page to see what lies ahead.  I don't want to let those nostalgic chapters go, even though they're already long gone. All that remains is my bare wistfulness.

I cling to the experiences of my children as little ones: of a tiny hand just able to grasp my index finger, chubby little thighs that smell so good after a nice warm bath.  I sort through pictures of yesteryear and wonder: how did the belly-laughs, the lullabies, the toothless smiles at my singing, the soothing vibrations of a sleeping baby on my chest get swallowed up by the passage of time?  Where do these experiences go? Do they evaporate into the ether when my memory can't quite hold on to them anymore- when I can't hear these moments anymore... or feel them or smell them?

Even the best photographs are no match for the power of the senses.

It's not that I want my children to be babies anymore.  As most parents would concur- so please excuse my hackneyed insight here- I am so grateful that I've conquered the stage of feeding/burping/changing diapers/schlepping around a million things for a meager trip to the grocery store- a trip which, by the way, takes an hour rather than the 12 minutes it would take going solo.  I don't miss the the despair and befuddlement I felt as they lay crying due to the fact that, lacking any type of formal communication, they couldn't tell me what was wrong.

(And then language came, which has now enabled them to tell me everything that is wrong.)

So what is it about the passage of time, the fleeting nature of experience, that allows me to avoid looking ahead and turning to the next chapter?  Is it merely the fact that something only happens once?  Even if that something tried my patience and disrupted my sleep schedule?

I think we all hang on to things just for the sake of hanging on, even if it's not something we truly want to keep in our lives. The only thing that we're really grasping is familiarity.  We know what the past and present look like.  We don't know what the future holds, even though it could be the best experience we will have ever had.

If my kids had stayed little, I'd never have been able to see all of the great stuff of today.  Like my daughter's amazing gift for storytelling, her fascination with books, her beautiful artwork and uncanny imagination. I would've missed taking her to New York at Christmastime and seeing her peer through the exquisitely designed windows at Bergdorf's.  I would've missed sharing with her the magic of watching a great show on Broadway.

And I wouldn't have been able to see my son wake up in the morning and head straight to the advent  calendar to count down the days to Christmas.  Or help him transform his room to a Spider Man lair and answer his infinite questions about super heroes.

(And by "answer" I mean, "You'll have to ask Daddy about that one.")

So I suppose I should embrace growing, especially since that IS the name of this blog. Therefore I'm dedicating this year, 2013, to moving forward. To growing.  To turning the page to see what lies ahead.

In order to accomplish this goal I know I'll need to keep reminding myself that, like in any good story, there's always a big twist.  It often happens at the height of the protagonist's struggles, when she feels she doesn't have anything yet to give or look forward to. When the past looks like all that's worth hanging on to.  But in the next chapter she emerges, almost miraculously, fulfilled in ways she never imagined.  Which gives her the confidence that, no matter what dragons lie ahead, she'll slay them too.

Sounds like a job for Spider Woman, don't you think?

The Distractions of July (and the Other 11 Months Too)

I really love summer.  I love the fresh cut flowers from the garden, the beach trips, the fresh fruit that actually tastes really good, especially when compared to the paltry offerings during the winter.
I can't seem to get anything done with all of these fun things to do, but I like them all the same.

Taking time to capture a butterfly

But then summer starts to get a bit settled in, and I'm reminded of the downsides to summer: the oppressive heat, humidity, mosquitos and, most unfortunate- time at the pool. Because time at the pool means I have to wear a swimsuit.  And wearing a swimsuit... well, God help me.

The Bathing Suit Wars 

I am a competitive sort, and I really don't like losing to others, especially others of admirable sveltitude (not a word, by the way.) However, I've been dealt a crushing blow this summer: in my version of The Bathing Suit Wars, I have lost. For now, anyway.  I know there are always sit-ups, jogging, yoga, cutting back on my calories- really hate this one- and other regimental changes I can certainly implement.  However, the bottom line (pun is intended here) remains: I don't wear swimsuits like I used to, and I hate that fact.

The Former Pant leg Perpetrator

But you know what I hate even more? The fact that I waste an ounce of energy on how I look versus how I feel!  What a pitiful use of time.  It's a pathetic habit I wish I'd been able to drop during my teenage years, yet it still hangs on like a Pit Bull on a pant leg.

(Disclaimer: I can use that expression, my Pit Bull lovers, because I used to have a Pit Bull-mix, who tasted many a pant leg in her lifetime.)

Besides implementing changes I can make and accepting those I cannot, lately I've had to work at banishing the old self talk, especially when I pass by the full length mirror on the way to the pool.  Since I've abandoned my initial plan of stealthily removing that blasted mirror in the middle of the night, I'm reduced to remembering that physical health must trump obsessing over body image.  I fall within normal weight, and I can't complain about not being in shape. So I know I need to dismiss that distraction and focus on something much more productive, like my business, helping people reach their career potential, my family, and challenging myself intellectually.  Those are values that are dear to me, and much more intrinsically important than whether you can bounce a quarter off the abs of the woman next to me in the kiddie pool.

A festive distraction- Fourth of July dessert contest at the pool

Second bottom line: this summer I've been especially distracted by the superfluousness surrounding me.  So many activities are there for the taking during the so-called lazy days of summer.  Since I've written two posts on distraction recently, I highly suspect I'm exerting a boatload of energy resisting distractions right now.

Besides being highjacked by all of the typical summer pleasures, my children are out of school and working from home feels futile. Household distractions abound, ready to be picked up, put away, cleaned, fed, negotiated, reprimanded and corralled. I'm constantly tempted to just do everything the kids want and the house beckons me to do, saying "no" too few times. Maybe it's the heat.


That being said, it's time to go and get some serious work done.  


But first, take a look at this adorable picture of a goat I found!  I got a little waylaid while going through my photo files...
  

Ed (He looks like an Ed, don't you think?)

How I Stepped in It Big Time

 

research.ibm.com

Wondering what I mean by "it?"

Okay, just imagine you are a city girl going to the country for the first time in your fancy Jimmy Choo stilettos and you decide it would be cool to prance around in a bucolic pasture of ginormous cows.  (You aren't a very smart city girl, apparently.)  And the next thing you know, as you pirouette your way past Bessie grazing blissfully on a mouthful of grass, you have landed in a big ol' pile of...

You see where I'm going with this, right?

So anyway, I stepped in a very big pile when I replied "yes" to an email requesting unit leaders for my daughter's day camp.

I thought, how bad could it be?  Just take the little gals from group activity to group activity, bond with my daughter and no problemo.

Problemo was, that doesn't begin to describe what the job actually entailed.  How did I fail to know this?  Because I failed to ask, "what does that entail?"  The only thoughts going through my mind were emotional, not factual: daughter, bonding experience, they neeeeeed me, blah blah blah.  If you'll recall I'm an ENFP, so my go-to decision-making uses the Feeling Preference, which means my heart can override my brain when left unattended.

As you can probably gather, Ol' Feeling was left unattended.  I'd already committed myself before asking about the details and facts of the situation.  I quickly discovered that the volunteer position actually entailed about 40 hours of prep and planning, on top of the 40 hours spent actually at the camp.  Oh, that and the fact that 24 girls were in each unit, and there were 200 total in the camp.  Woooaaa Bessie!

If only I'd bothered to ask about the details of the day-to-day requirements (for example, that I'd have to plan 36 hours of curriculum for six to eight year olds in rain or shine weather,) my decision would have at least been well-informed.  Had I known the enormous time commitment I would never have signed on, despite the pitiful cries from the leaders of the camp saying that our daughters couldn't have a camp without parent volunteers.  I would've just turned on the Thinking Side of my brain which would've said, "So what?  She misses out on a camp. No big deal, we'll go to the pool."

Now, on the other hand, and this is the second part of this post (hereafter entitled, "What I Learned From Camp") I'm kinda sorta glad I stepped in it.  I suppose the impulsive, bleeding heart, sucker-born-every-minute Feeling Side of me didn't do such a terrible job.  First of all, I ended up being able to learn more about my daughter, what engages her and what she is capable of.  I never would've really known had I not been in the trenches.  (And, Baby, was I in the trenches!) I can really appreciate how well-behaved and talented she really is.  I think I take that for granted sometimes.

Secondly, I met an incredibly interesting and inventive guy, a former marine, that can make almost anything out of, well, almost anything.  He was my co-leader who also became my saving grace.  He and I forged through the week battling not only some whiny hiny kids and a completely disorganized camp infrastructure, but also the blazing sun, humidity, mosquitoes, threats of thunderstorms, and a bathroom full of wasps.


Despite these obstacles we succeeded in creating a really great curriculum.  We climbed a fort, visited horse stables, learned about cumulus clouds, weather patterns, butterflies, lightning and tornadoes.  We made some kick-ass volcanoes, silly putty, ice cream, compasses, and, for the grand finale, we performed a musical review complete with glitter laden props.


(Do you really think I could get through a week at camp without incorporating glitter?  Or putting on some sort of musical spectacle?)



Collaborate and Survive

My co-leader and I couldn't be any more different in personality but we both share a determination to make the best out of any situation.  Best of all, we both possess a strong affinity for sarcasm and irreverent humor, which is probably why we can make the best out of any situation.  Instead of wallowing in camp hell (which was the first day) we managed to combine our talents and teach the girls creativity, friendship, coping skills, manners, animals, pioneering, flag folding, music, science, weather, theatre, and grace-under-fire.

My co-leader made it a special point to use his big old army knife for pretty much everything.  (They're quite versatile I discovered.  I'd get one if I thought I could keep all of my fingers.)  I made it a special point to teach the rules of engagement, of course.  I could tell there were some girls well on their way to becoming the future BMW's of the adult work world.  So why not at least try to pre-empt it?  We saw some major improvement over the week.  It felt good to make a positive difference in young lives.

In retrospect, I realize I paid a small price (80 hours of my time and some income) for committing to something before asking for clarifications.  And yes, it all worked out splendidly in the end.  But compare that to a a much bigger conundrum:  when we embark on a career path such as one that includes grad school without doing much research.  Talk about a huge price to pay!  We waste gargantuan amounts of time, money, and mental well-being when we jump into career path without gaining insight into what that career path entails.  Sure, trial and error plays a big part in discovering a path that fits, but a lot of the error is totally unnecessary. Just talk to anyone who has stepped in to a law career that sucks the soul out of them.  They wish they'd done a bit more research before going to law school in the first place.

This week's experiences also remind me of the challenges my clients face as they leap into new careers:  adversity, fatigue (because nobody has loads of free time to work on career transitioning without losing some sleep,) doubt, frustration when hitting obstacles, you name it....  Yet these same people are no less than heroes when they come out transformed, emboldened and on a mission to take ownership of their lives.  Whether they are creating their own paths or jumping into a new company from scratch, they are taking risks.  But it's worth the self-doubt and confusion, because in the end change has happened.  Heroes are all about facing the unknown, and, in turn, change.  Without it where would we be?

(Still rubbing stones together to make a fire and muttering incoherently to each other I suppose.)

I don't know if I'll embark on this camping adventure next year.  We'll see about that.  But I do know that I've really grown this past week.  So I guess I should pat myself on the back for that...

And I'm thinking that pat on the back will be in the form of a manicure and pedicure.  My nails are pretty much camped out.

Crapshooting My Way Through

Here's my Important Question for the Day:

What's the difference between a crapshoot and parenting?

Answer:  At least with craps you have a chance of winning.

(For those of you who don't have kids, don't I make it sound enticing?) 

Becoming a parent has been the most humbling path I've ever taken, always presenting me with new opportunities for self-doubt and flagellation.   Fresh from a career in acting (talk about self-doubt and flagellation!) I never had extra self-esteem lying around to begin with, so now my confidence level (as far as parenting is concerned- in all other areas it's great) frequently scrapes the bottom of the barrel.   I constantly wonder if I'm being too soft, too hard, too lenient, too strict, too doting, too hands-off, over or under nurturing, and so forth.  What if I do the wrong thing?  Say the wrong thing?  Will they resent me for it later on?  I can just hear my daughter, at age 30, saying to me, "remember when you made me eat vegetables?  Now I have a life threatening phobia of eggplant for which I'm in psychotherapy seven days a week!  Thanks for the memories, Mom!"

Oh, the pressure.

However, I will consent that there are some things that I, as a parent, can get right without sending my children into therapy by age ten and which I will never regret.  One of them is telling them I love them (because I do, like crazy,) and another is teaching them the rules of engagement.  If you'll recall from my former post, these rules dictate that adults must assume responsibility for knowing what engages their talents.  And, hopefully, if all goes well, my kids will make it to adulthood in one piece and might just become responsible to boot. 

Moreover, along this road to maturity, they'll need to learn how to recognize what their brains need to do to function successfully.  They'll need to detect what motivates them, what mentally drains them, and what makes them lose track of time they're having so much fun.  So my goal?   To give them the tools and the opportunities to do so.

This is easier said than done, of course.  For, along with trying desperately to get them to like more than chicken nuggets,  I find that it's difficult to navigate the complexities of innate preference versus a reticence to try new things. My daughter, for one, is an innate perfectionist (the apple falleth not far from the tree) and getting her to try an activity that she can't perfect right away is like pulling teeth from a lion.  I dance a soft shoe when it comes to letting her discover, on her own, the joys of imperfection vs. nudging her to try something she is hesitant to try. 

On the other hand, my son, who is only two, has less fear of trying something new.  (Even at age two my daughter had reservations about performing unknown tasks.)  But my little guy seems to have no inhibitions about launching himself from the top of the couch to the floor, for example, or taking a new bike out for a spin, or climbing to the highest point in any room.  Is this a boy thing?  Probably, but it's still a clue about who he is.  And I've already determined that he is a monkey.  A monkey who is really good at doing puzzles.  (I'm really good at this stuff, aren't I?)

Here are some more clues I look for in the "what are they drawn to do?" category:

What excites them?  What gets them fired up?  (Besides sugar.)  

What makes them laugh?  


Where do they enjoy going?  What do they like to do when there?  For instance, do they like to put things in their place when we go to the toy store or do they like to combine things and form combinations with different toys?  My daughter likes to bring together many different little toys and make them form deep, lasting relationships with each other by the time we leave.  My son likes to make sure every car or machine can make a vrrroommmm sound, go fast, and then make sure they play together. 


How do they wind down and then get recharged?  Reading books?  Riding on a bike?  Playing ball?  Being around people?


How do they relate to their classmates?  Are they more independent or do they play with one or two kids or five or six all at once?  


Do they prefer team sports or individual pursuits?  Or perhaps no sports at all?


What do they enjoy creating? Performing?  Conquering? 


How much competition do they enjoy?

Getting answers to the above questions allows me and my husband to foster these proclivities.  We sign them up for what we can based on what they might enjoy.  And we throw in some curve balls just because.  Last year my daughter said she wanted to play soccer so of course we said, "sure!"  She mostly braided her hair the whole time the ball was whizzing by, but that's okay.  Maybe next year she'll move to braiding everyone else's hair.

This, to me, is the fun part of parenting.  I love watching them develop into little people who will then become big people with fully expressed talents and preferences and interests.  I know that I will look back and wish that I could've done certain things differently, but at least I can say that I was paying attention to what they wanted for themselves, not just what I wanted for them.  And that makes me feel like I might not lose completely.

PuzzleMania

I love jigsaw puzzles.  I love the problem solving, the kinesthetic learning component, the visual and physical manipulation of pieces.  Not surprisingly, I come from a long line of jigsaw puzzle doers.  My parents, their parents, and maybe even their parents (but I don't know for sure) were all big puzzle people.  We could all stay up half the night doing a puzzle due to our compulsive need to finish it.  Now, I've happily discovered that both of my children love to do puzzles and are quite adept for their ages.  They both do puzzles well beyond their age groups, and what can I say?  I'm a proud mama!


As I was doing a puzzle with my two year old son the other day, I asked him, as he tried to put two non-connecting-yet-closely-related pieces together, "Do you think that we need to find another piece to put in there first?"  While the puzzle pieces may have been part of the same image, there was one piece we needed to find and put in place that would connect the first two original pieces.  I remembered asking my daughter the same thing about "connector pieces" when she was first learning to do puzzles, and enjoying the moment when she actually understood what I meant.

Career design is kind of like putting together a puzzle, which is one of the many reasons I enjoy the field of career coaching.  Oftentimes connector pieces are just what my client needs to complete his or her career puzzle.  For example, the gap between a crummy job and a perfect job (sometimes within that same company) may be just a puzzle piece away.  This piece may take the form of a position that serves as a "connector piece," one that the employee knows they just have to muster through temporarily to get a chance at the holy grail:  the dream job. 

In the past month I've had two friends that have gotten their current, fabulous career paths through that exact method.  The connector jobs they took within their same respective companies were anything but their dream jobs (although in each instance they were only in them about 3 months or less.) They had taken these connector jobs solely for the potential of reaching the next level.  Their bosses needed to see that they could handle certain tasks before being given more responsibility.  And now they are doing exactly what they'd always wanted to be doing.   How awesome is that?!

But putting those pieces together took very critical actions, the four most significant I will mention below:

1.  Forethought.  They had to know where they wanted to go eventually.  This is big picture thinking coupled with self-knowledge.  (They were following the Rules of Engagement!)

2.  Relevance. The connector piece or stepping stone, if you prefer, had to have some relevance to the eventual position they were seeking.  In one case, this in-between job had managing functions; in the other, the role had less to do with function and more to do with getting to know and work with the right people.  In both cases the connector job provided their employers with evidence of their abilities and character, so that they could then make the mental leap of hiring them to do more sophisticated and specialized jobs.

3.  Determination.  My friends had to muster through what really were a pay-your-dues type positions.  They temporarily took on roles that didn't utilize their best talents or interests; however, they knew the sacrifice would be worth it, as they needed to show their employers they would do whatever it took to help the company.

Now, truth be told, one of my friends absolutely hated her connector job.  The other friend didn't necessarily hate her in-between post; however, she was constantly nagged by the feeling of being extremely underutilized intellectually and ability-wise. Sticking with those pieces of the puzzle required every ounce of self-confidence to know, deep down, that they were capable of more than that job.  As one friend said, she had "to trust the universe," which eventually reimburses us for our personal vision efforts.  Both women had to accept that their temporary position was not going to use their strongest attributes and preferences, but that it would lead to a job that did use those talents.  They also had to be prepared to deal with the reactions of others.

Often, when taking on a connector job these outside reactions typically fall into two forms:

a) belittling attitudes (i.e. when you are doing a job that any Joe Schmoe could do and people treat you as if that is ALL you can do) and 

           b) negative feedback (especially when you are having to do tasks that show your weak spots.)


4. Courage!!! This is the grand finale that must come in order for all of the sacrifice to pay off.  Once the women put in their time in the middle job, they each had to muster up the courage to ask for the coveted position.  They had to take the risk that their employer would reject their proposal.  However, not surprisingly, neither employer did say "no."  Rather, both women received a big fat "yes" and negotiated better benefits than they'd even hoped for.

Bottom line:  if they'd skipped any of these pieces they would have not been where they are today.

So instead of getting frustrated that you are on a road to nowhere, entertain the possibility that you may just need a bridge or connector piece to get to the road you really want to be on.  Perhaps it's within the same company or organization.  Maybe it's a matter of going to another field and then linking the two.  Who knows?  It's your puzzle to work on. 

(And mine, if you care to partner up with a puzzle lover such as myself.)

Rules of Engagement

Let me first clarify the title of this post.  I am not talking about:

a) scoring a rock on your left ring finger, or
b) combat procedures, or
c) the current sitcom on CBS.

Rather, I'm talking about self-awareness of what engages us.

Yeah, I know, not as amusing a topic. But my knowledge is very limited when it comes to:

a) proposing
b) use of military force, and
c) free time before 10 pm.

I do know that we have a responsibility to give ourselves tasks that we find engaging.  Instead of looking to others to engage our talents, we need to understand that as mature adults, it is our job to realize what engages us and makes us tick, so to speak.  If we want to be engaged in our work and lives in general, we must identify what our ideal day should entail.  If this self-assessment (or assessment with the help of a career professional) doesn't happen, entitlement may take over.  In career terms, "entitlement" is the belief that others should know what we need to be engaged and feel rewarded. You know, kind of like asking those around us to read our minds... and tell us what we want to be doing.

Of course, I'm sure as you read the word, "entitlement" many of you over age 30 thought I was mainly referring to young people- from twenty somethings and college students to teens on down. But then, I am hoping, you smacked your forehead and realized that it was me talking, and, knowing how I love screwing around with traditional notions and giving conventional wisdom a good kick in the butt, you realized that NO demographic was safe from scrutiny!  

(Mmmmwwwwaaaa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha....)

Seriously, I need to get out more.

The media and many adults perpetuate the idea that young people, especially those of well-to-do parents, are the kings and queens of entitlement.  While I can see some semblance of that notion in our American society, (much of it brought on by modern day parenting philosophy which dictates we must cater to our kids 24/7) I perceive entitlement to be found in all generations, socio-economic classes and industries.

For example, whenever you have an employee of any age who is what many managers covertly call the "BMW"  (Bitch, Moan and Whiner) of the workplace, you've got someone who, among other things, feels they are entitled.  They want management to give them tasks that suit them without doing the necessary digging to discover what those tasks should even be!  Instead, they assume management should just know what their strengths and preferences are and in turn make them happy and engaged at work.  The ball, they believe, is in their manager's court, not their own.  I'm confident you've all worked with, managed or dealt with someone who fits this description.

Part of this problem, I will concede, derives from the fact that none of us are adequately assessed when we are young.  It is pretty rare for someone to truly know what they are really really good at and what can engage them on a daily basis.  This information needs to be gathered via assessments at an earlier time than, say, middle age, when the majority of people finally seek career counseling and coaching! Did you know, the typical age of a career client is 40-50 years old? This is when people begin realizing  that they want to know how to feel engaged vs. disconnected to their work. 

In light of the above phenomenon, I am working in my small, individual way, to change that general practice of "let's just wait and see if some true calling epiphany hits me in the head some day."
That was my so-called strategy when I was younger, whereby I subconsciously told myself that "it (my calling) will just come to me eventually... by trial and error... or whatever."  But eventually has an uncanny way of turning into decades and how many decades do we really have to do what we're really good at and enjoy?  Therefore many of my professional goals entail helping young people discover their inherent talents and preferences before they begin making meaningful decisions such as what activities to pursue, classes to take in high school and where and what to study thereafter.  Making decisions from a place of self-actualization rather than self-doubt will lead to engaging work throughout their lives, not to mention the fact that hard, engaging work is fun when we are intrinsically motivated!

We'll see how long it takes for these rules of engagement to stick.  I'm hoping it's just around the corner... or we'll have more and more BMW's to contend with in our workplace.

And, just to clarify, I'm not referring to:

a) the YUPPY car, made by
b) zeee Germans, filling up
c) office parking garages.

The Blind Side's Got Talent... to a T

Being a parent of two little children means that I am a few weeks, perhaps months, even years behind on my movie viewing.  I am equally pathetic at reading your typical mainstream bestsellers.  For example,  I just read The Da Vinci Code a couple of months ago.  I really don't understand the hype about that one... but I guess I can't add anything to that erudite (ahem) and controversial discussion because it ended, what, 10 years ago? So I will apologize here and now for referencing movies that are so NOW-ON-DVD.

That being said, the movie, The Blind Side, hasn't been out too long (and Sandy won an Oscar and adopted a baby or two and had boy trouble, as I was told by the supermarket tabloids), so I thought it might still be on everyone's radar.

My grade for the movie:  an A+ for celebrating the powerful force of knowing one's own unique talents.  Based on the non-fiction book, The Blind Side:  Evolution of a Game by Michael Lewis, this movie illustrates what happens when talent and temperament are ignited by a catalyst:  in this case, an observant, intuitive mother.
  
As a young man, Michael Oher, now grown up and an offensive tackle for The Baltimore Ravens, was the victim of tragic neglect since infancy.  This neglect stunted his intellectual and social abilities by epic proportions.  However, as movingly portrayed in The Blind Side, Oher has the good fortune of being taken in by a loving and caring family.   His adoptive family provides not only for his basic physical needs of a bed, a home and food, but his emotional and intellectual needs as well.  His mother, Leigh Anne Touhy, played by the aforementioned Sandra Bullock, as well as his father and a caring teacher see his potential intellect and talent lying dormant, and gradually help to nurture Michael's inborn gifts to life.

Motivation and Ability

Oher's new caretakers quickly discover that the young man possesses incredible natural athleticism in addition to his large size;  however, they feel there's a missing piece of the puzzle.  Michael, who does not - and cannot- adequately communicate his own preferences, seems reluctant to use his athletic ability and strength.  Despite his enormous size he has no desire to tackle just for the sake of tackling, unlike every other lineman on the team.  The high school coach can't understand why anyone of Michael's stature wouldn't seek to use this size to his advantage and crush his relatively diminutive opponents.

As if in response to the coach's incredulity, the movie employs a wonderful analogy: the classic children's story of Ferdinand the Bull.    Ferdinand is the sweet, loveable and enormous bull who has no aggressive instincts even though he's supposed to be, well, bullish.   Oher is that gentle giant who's modus operandi, in spite of his size, carries no aggressive inclinations.

The mother discovers this lack of aggressiveness and turns it into a solution.  She intuitively taps into a priceless jewel hidden beneath her son's 300 + lb. frame: an unsung affinity for protecting and caring for others.  She points out to Michael that he has the opportunity to protect his fellow players, just as he protects his family.  Once this pivotal discovery is put into play, Michael Oher's life is changed forever.  He has found his motivation, and the rest of his life starts to come together.

Specialized Talent

Unlike many offensive positions in football, the left tackle actually seeks to protect the quarterback, not just tackle the defensive line.  In his book, author Michael Lewis examines how specialized a person must be to play the offensive left tackle position at the highest level in football: playing in the N.F.L.   This position's requisite specialty is even rarer than many other positions in pro football and therefore "one of the most valuable commodities," as Lewis writes.  (Oh, and did I mention, the second highest paid position, next to the quarterback?)

This specialization is where Michael Oher's physical tools come into play.  He has amazing agility combined with enormous (yet solid) size and incredible speed.  He also possesses inordinately large hands to handle tough defenders, and long arms to keep the rushers at bay.  These traits enable Oher to protect the quarterback's blind side- the left side.  The country's top football coaches spotted his uniqueness right away and vied for Michael Oher to come play at their schools.

On a career note, we have all seen/heard/read about how talent scouts and coaches look for specific characteristics in putting together a football team.   Different positions obviously require different skills.  So what if non-athletes were to look at themselves from that perspective?    My guess is that most people would benefit from thinking of themselves as highly specialized individuals.

You have a singular, intricate tapestry of physical and mental abilities in the same way you have a distinct fingerprint.   What if you began looking at yourself as a scout would:  what combined talents, motivations, abilities, and strengths do you have to offer?  If you aren't crystal clear, a career expert can help to illuminate traits you would never think of as useful.  (Because, hey, who has the luxury of being discovered by a talent scout for accounting or entrepreneurial brilliance?)
 
Environment Seals the Deal

By the end of the movie we see what happens when a nurturing, supportive environment helps an individual ignite his talent and intellect.  We see Michael's journey from working hard just to physically survive each day (as he had for 16 + years) to working hard to excel at his talents, mental pursuits, passions, and dreams.  And this journey illustrates an important element as far as talent is concerned: without any nurturing, a person's nature cannot be expressed fully or, as in Michael's case, barely at all.  His hard-working, intelligent, protective nature, was not seen until some basic foundations had been allowed him.

As a mother watching this movie, I could relate. This is because I've got my own little Ferdinand.  Or Fernandina, to be exact.  And she's more like a lithe little calf than a bull, but that's beside the point.  Like Michael, she seems to lack any aggressive instincts.  When playing soccer, for example, she would much rather stand out in a field and gather daisies for the other teammates than have anything to do with fighting for ball time.  Moreover, when a fellow player gets hurt, she MUST  go and see if he is okay.  (Yes, "he."  She's in with all boys, and no, we did not plan it that way but she's hanging in there like a champ.)  She would much rather play the healer role than that of the aggressor.  But instead of wishing she'd kick the ball (okay, just once during the entire one and a half hour class might be nice,) I do find her inclinations fascinating.

Who knows how my daughter will use her healing nature in the future, but only she can figure that out.  It may or may not have anything to do with the medical field;  healing may be the way she approaches her job or clients or students or co-workers.  But I hope that, like Michael's parents, I can provide the opportunities for her to thrive.  My wish for her as she gets older: to be able to pick daisies in whatever field she chooses.