Summer of ... BLERG

Couldn't even come up with a good title for: 'yet another rambling post about my endless search for self-disicpline and focus.

Two weeks ago marked my official start to the summer. I missed Lehigh's commencement. Instead, I was in Harrisburg for one of two days of "Train the Trainer" training. Sad title, but this is one the the many things I am going to go through to "legitimize" the after school programs I'm designing as a part of my ongoing learning and living arts work. I hoped to write weekly journals on the "Creative Campuses Best Practices" blog for that documentation, but a grant and some other people tugging on my attention got in the way.

I must confess, a fair amount of passive aggression this week. I think I'm fighting a bit of depression, too. Seeing Steve's condition weaken because of heat and i terrible sleeping problem is a part of it. I'm sure the other part is just the simple self-absorbed way I get when I forget how lucky I am because I'm dwelling on what I don't have. I retreat into a mentally vacant state. Television is pure evil. I have to convince myself that I'm allergic to it.

But I did see something on my channel surfing yesterday that snapped me back into some sense. Believe it or not, a moment from an episode of "The Super Nanny" did it. She was coaching the mom on discipline for the two year old. The mom was getting frustrated at needing to be consistent - and the kids was really pushing back. The mom was about to walk out the door when the Super Nanny chased her down.
"This is going to on all day - I just don't have the strength..." (whine, whine, I'm doing this in my own way)
"Well you'd better find a way to get some strength because it is all on you right now. Deal with it!"

That's right, bitch. Deal with it.

Today, a small victory. I got to my work out video. I controlled my eating so far. Even tackled the laundry. Made the meal plan, got the girl scout badges sorted.

Still have to get to the grocery store, iron the clothes, put all of them away, cook dinner. Make the badge chart and write the instruction letter for the parents for the Girl Scouts. Some other stuff for the Fine Arts Commission need to get done before I face them at tomorrow's meeting.

My head is going in too many directions. I can't focus.

Work is a mesh of stuff that I just can't seem to get a grip on. I'm finding my self spread again into a lack of structure. I do practice making a schedule and reasonable daily tasks lists, and for the most part I get them done. Not getting to the writing I really want to do. I may have to isolate myself for a while - or be super strict about when I scan the social media dials and for how long. Oh, and the reading list? Right.

This week, the kids have three half days of school and they're out for summer. Tonight, I'm going to make a goals chart for discussion with my boss tomorrow. Do they make an app for that? Yes.

I can have all the tools and opportunity laid out at my feet. But nothing matters until I actually make something work. I'm too focused on the outcomes right now, that I haven't spent the necessary time working out the path to get there.

I have a feeling my morning pages this week will be full of self-hate. Better there, than here.

It gets easier?

Every time I see a mom challenged by baby/toddler multiples, I remember thinking how overwhelming my life was. Every time another mother of multiples said, "It'll get easier," I always answered with exasperation, "When!?"

In all honesty, motherhood has become easier. The challenges are still there; just different.

Today's challenge - not worrying about them as they walk themselves from school to my work place. It's only 6 blocks, and they'll be walking together. How else are they going to learn to be independently responsible? It's not like I'll ask a friend in the local police force to follow them in his cruiser.... (or maybe I will)

Here comes the "when I was their age" reflection:
When I was in third grade, I had to walk a little over one mile from my house to get to school. Here's the route:

I can also honestly share that there were mornings I had to walk in a snow storm (No, it wasn't uphill in both directions). I remember walking with my younger sister, who was in first grade at the time. We were plowing through the long stretch of side walk that framed the cemetery on Sheridan Rd. The snow hadn't been cleared yet, and since we were kind of short, there were drifts that were higher than the top edge of our boots. These boots went over our shoes. At one point, Shaun's foot slipped out of her shoe/boot and she took a step in the wet snow. She howled like Randy in "A Christmas Story" when he couldn't put his arms down.
[note for geography buffs: Terra Haute, Indiana is in the same snow belt as Kenosha, Wisconsin.]

In fourth grade, our family moved to a new home seven blocks away from school. It was only .4 miles. From this new address, I could walk home for lunch. One bonus to this situation, was that my grandparents lived two blocks away from the new house. I even walked there for lunch.

Grandma's Irish spaghetti looked suspicious - her tomato sauce was condensed soup and she added chopped overcooked strip steak. But I ate it - because it would have hurt her feelings not to, and I was always rewarded with a light, crispy sugar cookie.

Oh gosh, it was just too friggin' simple.

I'm getting a sense of how complicated I tend to make parenthood. I'm trying to figure out how to work around their schedule. More honestly, I'm still trying to figure out how to work them into MY schedule. I'm being selfish when I put work before them too much.

I'm incredibly blessed with a wonderful, challenging position in an institution which encourages me to seek solutions as an academically minded administrator. The opportunities to investigate systems, create new ideas at the edges of multiple disciplines, to forge relationships with forward thinking people, and to facilitate learning for students while being actively engaged in my community.... it doesn't get much better than this.

I'm surrounded by good people. My husband is ridiculously supportive of my urgent desire to make a difference. But this year, my kids started to complain about my leaving the house after dinner, or their need to quietly wait outside the board rooms. They are always well-behaved. But what kind of memory will that give them?

Moving forward, there will still be times they'll need to patiently wait outside the room while Mommy does her thing. Their patience is usually rewarded with simple things; a special trip to the library, a chance to explore the Monocacy creek in their school uniforms, or a round of Putt golf with the girl scout troop later in the evening. The latter is the activity I did with Bridget after she and Stephen had to wait in the lobby of the Hotel B while I live-tweeted the last Mayoral Debate. Don't worry, Stephen had his reward, too. They both ate a few too many bacon wrapped scallops and sesame chicken skewers. Good thing they aren't picky eaters.

Last month, I resigned from two boards. I'm making room to return to an academic program to support research and publishing goals in my field. I'm certain that this kind of focus will also give me more time with my kids. There will still be afternoons when I have meetings that go beyond their 3pm end of school day.

This summer starts an investigation into balance. I'm trying to balance my time better for taking care of things that will mean better memories for our kids. I'm also trying to balance things I take on to stay focused on work goals. I have learned to say no - now I have to say "yes" to things that may not be as exciting in the moment - but worth the dedication in the long run.

Time to create balance for simpler things. I don't need to do it all. I don't want to do it all.

I just want to know I'm making the right decisions. Giving my career the focus it needs, giving my family the attention they deserve, giving myself a break.

oh...., but I can't forget; there's the local history hobby/research I want to publish, too.

smack me.

What is the trigger?

Sunday night; settling down after the long drive back from another wonderful Detroit/Bowling Green, OH four day weekend. The drives are a grind, but Steve insists on doing all of it. The kids were raised on these trips. They look forward to marathon movies in the back seat. The only thing I really need to do is figure out a way to occupy myself; usually twitter, magazines when the signal is weak, or staring out the window and thinking. All good things for someone who complains about not having time to think.

This was the first White family gathering since Nonna died last year. I can't believe it had been that long since the White siblings gathered. We usually gathered for either T-day, Xmas or NYE. Always for one week in the summer. After Nonna's funeral in October 2011, we stayed home for T-day and got to see the Bethlehem tree lighting, and other local traditions. It was nice to take a break from the many weekend trips of the past three years. We stayed home through Christmas Eve, but drove to Detroit on Boxing day to try to connect with any family still hanging out in Detroit. New Year's Eve was spent in Bowling Green with our old posse. It was a great night hanging out, sampling Mark's scotch (he's got quite a collection), talking about everything and nothing with our dearest friends.

Before Nonna died, the family gatherings were organized around her and Papa's traditions; significant and not so insignificant holidays (anything with a 3-day weekend), weddings (lots of weddings), baptisms, first communions, confirmations, high school graduations, wine making,...  Steve's siblings are very close. Four of the seven siblings live in the Detroit area. Their kids grew up together. Every family gathering had continuous eating and conversations that would start at the hello hug and last through the 2 hour packing and "oh, and that reminds me of...." as we try to leave.

There's usually a moment in Detroit when I watch Steve's family and wish I could just walk into another room of the house to see my mom and my siblings. This time I had to settle for a phone call. After I got off the phone, as expected, I was starting to feel anxious about not being with my mom. I'm not there. I'm missing something. There's always this moment when I'm with Steve's family when I feel like I need to bust out of the house. I need to retreat into my own space.

This is why I started jogging again. A few years ago, I packed some exercise clothes just in case I had the opportunity. Every visit now, I get a 2 mile walk/run in Grosse Point Park - long enough to get from the home we're staying to to some view of Lake St. Claire and back. It's all I need. When I'm done with the quick run; I feel like I've chased the demons away.

The night of that run, I split seven Belgian beers with my sister-in-law's husband. Next day, I felt no pain. I felt great!

This was an awakening.

After a Belgian waffle, we drove to Bowling Green. For some reason, the anxiety started creeping in again. Luckily, the BG friends have known me for more than 25 years - they don't care if I need to escape. So I put my running clothes back on and went for a little jog in the woods.

I got lost on the trail just before dark. When I finally figured out how to get out of the woods, this 10 point deer came up from behind and ran right passed me; about 15 feet to my right. (Thanks to Mark - I got a good picture of this big boy)

Stuff like that only happens when you just decide to take an adventure and get lost.

I flipped some kind of trigger on this trip. As I sit and write this post while the laundry is going and I dig my heels into still being on vacation (no, I'm not reading email and getting ready for the week right now), I'm trying to figure out when I'll be able to get my next run in.

Who am I and what happened?

Does this have anything to do with embracing my failings as they are - and starting to let shame go?

I heard this phrase in a radio interview today; "It's not a mid-life crisis. It's a mid-life unravelling."
(Listen to this researcher: she's pretty awesome. Brene Brown researches vulnerability)

Am I finally accepting things that I cannot change; and finding serenity in the things I can?

Slapping the Snooze Button on a Major Wake-up Call

I'm sure you've either watched an episode, or seen promos for the reality TV show, 'What Not to Wear.' The format of this half hour of "learning through someone else's" pain starts with an ambush surprise of the person who is about to have her (usually her) entire wardrobe tossed for new, appropriately stylish for their age, lifestyle and body shape. The subject of each episode gets $5,000 to create a new wardrobe, but there is much greater cost to being selected as a subject: her dignity.

I've watched the show a couple of times; probably less than 3 hours of my life all together. After the first two episodes, I was hoping that one of my friends was going to "save me" by secretly videotaping my outfits and nominate me to be a candidate on the show. Then I saw two more episodes where the subjects were completely broken down. There's a lot of baggage behind body image. Thirty minutes on national TV is no instant fix.

The 5th episode I watched, I'll be honest, was in and out of consciousness during the flu. It still counts.

Since the 5th espisode, I've blogged about not caring about wearing ChuckT's to work. In fact, there've been a few good friends who were trying to be gentle with me in their comments about them. I even wore them to the annual staff party last year. Why? I found a gazillion excuses.

And I wonder why some people don't take me seriously. When it's all said and done, people should take my work seriously, not my choice of footwear. Should. Some people can't get beyond it.

I'm not going to change who I am. But I'm ready to change the packaging. Because, contrary to last year's protestations, I really do care. I care a lot.

Here's the thing. I'm surrounded by college students and young professionals where I work. While most of them never age (graduation and a new class of freshmen every year), I do. While I know I look younger than my age, I'm still not presenting myself as a 47 year old career woman. Yes, I'm 47. You want to make something of that?

Belligerently defying cultural norms of work place attire only works for those professionals who never appear in public. I never realized how public I am until my boss pointed it out to me last year. My new job accountabilities have me more in public than ever. I also have to be a grown up and now that I'm not just representing myself, I'm representing the institution, the arts, and a bunch of people who take their presentation seriously. I'm ready to shed my former identity. I'm ready to evolve. It's been ten years since pre-maternity; this current body isn't going to change any time soon. So I can make more excuses or....

I tripped onto a local style consultant. Literally, tripped onto finding her through the Lehigh Valley Style Magazine's E-commerce center. Her name is Kathy Moses. I watched my 6th episode as a way to get ready for this consultation. For me, my wardrobe limitations start with the shoes. It's always the G-D- shoes!

Kathy came to my house to do a complete wardrobe assessment. I was ready to throw out everything and start from scratch. That's what I learned from TV, after all.

Luckily, Kathy showed me how to make some of the pieces of my wardrobe work, how to start sprucing it up, and which pieces no longer work for me. I'm sure Steve will be relieved to know that I'm not going to need to budget a ton into an emerging fashion diva. After doing last night's budget projections for the kids' fall extra-curricular activities.... I was getting ready for a nice experience, but was prepared to keep the wardrobe lessons in the dream folder.

This is the "radical" thing I announced on Monday. What's the big deal? Ask any middle aged woman who's trying to accept where she is in life, and let go of previous images that keep making her depressed. It's the trigger that gets us to sign up for crazy diet programs, insane eating binges, or worse, thinking that her body is bad. I recognize that this is the pinnacle of first world problems.

What was the trigger this time? A former student asked a question on twitter, posed to 20-30 year olds; "Do you feel like an adult?" My first reaction was, "me neither." Then I realized, I am an adult. A dang fun adult, who loves the responsibilities: career, husband, kids, homeowner, dog owner, etc.

I'm ready for more of this. I hope to share some of the lessons on this blog, #Frump2Fab; keeping it from daily Twitter noise, because Lawd knows there's too much noise there. I'm hoping that in 3 months time, all my clothes really work for me.

Wanna know how dire the situation is? I actually wore this- - - - - - - >
to work this  week.

Save me, Kathy!

(don't worry, I'm not donating the Chuck's. - they're still good for Girl Scouts and kilt crawls.)

Oh... and another big radical change? I gave up eating meat.

It's been way too long

Last post was November 28th. How did I survive the holidays and the first part of the semester without blogging? It's become so comforting to write my thoughts; memories, worries, frustrations, dreams. I get it out on the screen, and I feel lighter in spirit. Damn you Brad King!

At my performance evaluation with my new supervisor in late December, I was directed to keep a daily journal of my work. One thing community managers (or community relations folks) ought to consider is developing a work flow in order to be able to do this without too much pain. Of course, I resisted the assignment because I'm initially a child when it comes to doing something I really don't want to do. I pout. I procrastinate. I indulge in self-pity. I eventually get over it and figure out a way to do the new assignment with savvy.

I started with a "dear diary" list every day. Then, I started to group patterns of contacts, groups and overlapping constituencies as a way to demonstrate how maintaining these relationships; while non-linear, serve the institutional strategic plan. It feels contrived to categorize so many of the people I have grown fond of; people I trust, people I admire. I know that by being present with people, taking risks together is less scary. We've got each other's back. We're ready to grow through shared work.

I've been keeping my log of activities by cross listing my emails, twitter streams, Facebook updates, website analytics, Google alerts, four square checkins, and yes, even my Klout score. Much of this won't mean much to a folks who doesn't see social media as anything beyond fluff. But the impact of the circle of contacts (which looks very much like my Google+ circles, BTW) shows a depth of understanding our community. I'm making a directory or a map of people, and trying to illustrate it in a way that others can figure out the relationships. This is way more than a data base, or a contact list. I'm trying to make a map that's actually useful to someone who don't already know where they are going when it comes to navigating the PEOPLE in our community.

My draft of January/February work journal is going to look really cool when it's done. This is only one part of my goal. I want to establish this way of reporting so that once my supervisor starts to make sense of my work, he won't continue to ask for the journal. I'll be able tofree up my evening reflection time to go back to blogging. Heck, I may even get back to my research! (wait a minute what's a staff person doing research for?.... that's another rant about to boil up.) [btw, did I mention the opinions in this blog do not reflect that of my employer? - better make a note of that in my "about me" section....]

So how have I survived my self centered life without blogging? Simple enough; friends. Great friends. The kind of friends who make a double sized meatloaf to have me and the kids over for dinner while Steve takes another weekend drive to Detroit (left this morning, coming back tomorrow night) to help siblings resolve his mother's estate, get her house ready for market; continue to be the loving brother. The kind of friends who bring me a chilled bottle of Mommy juice in the afternoon just to hear me talk on and on for two hours about my latest tale of woe. The kind of friends to text me out of the blue to check up on me. The kind of friends to patiently wait for me to have my temper tantrum and to take the time I need to find my bounce.

Today was a great day. If not for the Step Dance event that I dragged my kids to see after dinner tonight, I could have said it was a day without any work. But I went to the event in sweats that smelled of baby spit up, and muddy dog. I snuck in with the kids in the back; waved to as many students and folks as recognized me, and let my kids bounce around their seats as they watched the dancers in awe. Tried as I might, I still couldn't help but embrace my work in the moment.

On my work log for today I wrote:
Represented Lehigh University as sponsor of a Lehigh student initiative in Step Dance with Broughal Middle School. Lehigh's Finest, Lehigh's Hip Hop Club, Lehigh's future Mu Sigma Upsilon Multicultural sorority, The men of the Uman Chapter of Lambda Sigma Upsilon, and Broughal administrators connected. ArtsLehigh funded the activity; one that I've hoped to see for four years; just waiting for the right mix of student leadership and opportunity. In the last six years, I've become a good judge on which activities are going to work, and which ones will be only a noble effort. This activity will increase mentorship between Lehigh student leaders and the students of Broughal. Through supporting the relationships between these student groups, more local students of multiple racial and socioeconomic backgrounds will envision themselves as future college students. This is a good activity which will need more encouragement and support if it is to be sustained in future years beyond the current student leadership.

Tomorrow, I promise I'll take day off. But only in visible work. I'll end up reading/purging email, going through the papers and notes I brought home, creating task goals for the week, prepare lecture outlines for class, and put a good dent in the novel of a writer who is coming to campus in a week. OK, that's not  a day off. But the ironing, the meal plan, the shopping, the short dog walk, Church, knitting class, and the Sunday dinner will all get done on top of it. Oh spit - and I almost forgot about the tasks I need to get done before the CCA board meeting, the Cops n Kids Celebration planning, the Bethlehem Fine arts Commission announcements, figure out the plan for Girl Scouts, and the artist in residence.

Where's that mommy juice?

Let the training begin

In the euphoric moment of completing my first 5K, I signed up the next day for a 10K. The event is in Allentown on Superbowl Sunday - February 5, 2012. I'm hoping 10 weeks is enough time to properly train through the holidays. But as usual, training doesn't start with exercise - it starts with research.

To the internets!
(Every time I type that, I hear some BatMan theme.... if only I could find a way to pop that into this post)

Wow! I can buy a perfect training guides for only $29.99 in four easy installments. Do I really feel like I can't do this? Is the purchase of one more app or exercise program "designed especially for me" is going to get me across the finish line? Of course, I can fetter away even more money. Instead, I'm going to give this a shot with a free 10K for beginners training plan. Since this one is 8 weeks, I'm allowing the next two weeks to work up to it's first week assignments.

I was able to pull it together this morning. A Monday morning; getting dressed, choking down vitamins, leashing the dog, and out the door in time to complete 30 minutes of straight running. I was hoping to be able to cover 2 miles, but I only got 1.74 according to my trusty free RunKeeper App. I will not let this feel like a failure. For Pete's sake, I did get my butt out of the house and jog for 30 minutes straight... (OK, stopped only to pick up Buddy's morning dump)

Back to the internets for more tools. I found a way to plan for desired distance on this site, and will try again tomorrow. No doubt, I'll have to design a more organized routine to do as much of the morning tasks as possible before I head out. Tomorrow's run might take up to 45 minutes to cover the two miles.

Crap, that means waking up earlier. OK, alarm set for 0-5-ridiculous. And no riding the snooze. I will be successful if I can get out of the house by 6am.

That's the way this little experiment is going to have to go for me. Small successes each day.

My first

I finally did it. I ran (ok, wobbled) my first 5k. This rambling blog post is to record details of the event so I can look back on it after I finish my first 10K, my first half marathon, or perhaps cross the finish line of my first full marathon. I want to remember the details of this monumental achievement. 

At least it is monumental to me.

I hit the reset button on my exercise routine last spring. On a whim, I bought a book, Run Your Butt Off. Not sure what inspired me to do that - I think it was the 30-day free trial. It's a great program for people like me: middle aged, busy, and desperate to not be in their current physical condition anymore. I have extra challenges; two bad knees. There was a time I was convinced I needed knee replacement surgery. Just couldn't find a knife happy, pill-popping orthopedic surgeon to be my Doctor Feel Good.

Like most 30-day free trials, I wrecked the book putting a wet towel on it at the pool this summer. Thus began a commitment to working my way through the damned program. The RYBO program goes through progressive stages; walking/running for 30 minutes from non-stop walking to 30 minutes of non-stop running. One only advances to the next stage when one can complete the current stage four times in a given week. I had worked through stage 7 by the time I got to my summer vacation in Canada. The one with my in-laws. The one where I wanted to run for a few moments alone... in the woods... with the loons. I got some great runs on the vacation. They were great because I did them.

In the book, the authors encourage the reader to sign up for a 5K when the reader is only at stage 5 workout.  Even though I was running for 2/3rds of the workout time, I still wasn't running non-stop. I didn't actually sign up when the book told me to. But I did consider trying to run a 5K by Thanksgiving. Not sure where I was going to be; what city, or state. But I knew there'd be one somewhere close to where my butt would be expanding from another indulgent holiday.

Enter another impulse moment. I saw a street banner for the Historic Bethlehem Partnership Turkey Trot a few weeks ago. As I drove under the street banner, the idea went into the place in my head where many thoughts go, right in line behind all of the other tasks I want/wish/should do so that I can look at myself in the morning mirror with a little more self-respect. The thought got buried.

Just yesterday, I read a local newsfeed about the Turkey Trot, with a link to the info page. I tried the online registration, but missed that deadline. I called the phone number to find that I could still register downtown for $10 less than day of registration. We stopped by the visitor center on our way to the Tree Lighting Ceremony. Dropped $25 bucks and had this passing thought: that was a generous donation, if I don't actually make it. I'll still feel good about supporting the local historic preservation efforts. I'm already justifying laziness, and I haven't even failed yet!

The only thing left was to eat a carb-y meal, and try to fall asleep early. Stefano's usually helps on both accounts. I passed on a glass of chianti, and went for a simple penne pasta dish. By the time we got home, I bargained 2 chapters of C.S. Lewis for the kids in lieu of TV. While they complied, I weakened. The Devil Wears Prada was on. I had to stay up to see THAT scene with Meryl Streep. It was important.

I am an idiot.

The alarm went off in enough time for me to pull on the running clothes, warm up some Thera Flu, grab a few spoonfuls of yogurt and granola, and head out the door, park downtown, grab my T-shirt and number. I only had to betray my dog. This is normally when we have our long run together.

The volunteers were super organized. I had enough time to pin on my number and dive into the crowd. I think if I had gotten there any sooner, I would have freaked out a little. Less than half a mile into the race, I saw walkers passing me. And uber moms with their toddlers in (really expensive) running strollers. And people in costumes. The serious runners were far ahead - and God bless them. I just didn't want to see them lapping me.

At the first mile marker, I got a drink of water from a volunteer. I wonder if I'll ever learn how to drink and run at the same time. I tried to talk to some of the other runners that were about my pace. One nice lady told me that this was her second Turkey Trot. Her first one was last year. Her walking pace was faster than my running pace. I think I was keeping her motivated to finish before I did. Other people didn't want to talk to strangers. I tried to ease into a conversation with two other participants, they freaked out a little, and started whispering like they were in a library. Guess not every person on the run wants to make new friends.

The route ran through some of the more charming parts of the city; historic downtown shopping district, Sand Island, City Hall. That image is a screen capture of the exercise tracker app I use in case my body needs to be found. Note the impressive 16:27 mile pace! I swear there was an older lady with a cigar and a walker moving faster than me. But I did something she didn't do.

I Finished!

I got a little emotional at the end. There were some really nice strangers that cheered me across the finish line. I called Steve to let him know I did it and that I'd be home soon. Then I had to call my mom. I was lucky that my brother Mike answered her phone. He's the one who inspired me to try running again after he finished his first marathon. He ran his personal best 5K yesterday in the Kenosha Turkey Trot. Wouldn't it be great if some Thanksgiving in the future, we run a 5K together? 

When I got home, Steve and the kids gave me a great round of applause, and scrambled eggs and toast the kids made for me. Take that, menopause!

I'm now looking for a 10K to run. Maybe I'll even make it across the line of a half- marathon. Maybe next year, I'll have a faster pace. I don't really care about that now. I got a T-Shirt, a number, and a fine memory. Let me blow it up nice and big for ya!