On Friday, my older son was mean to another child during a parent breakfast. Thus, not only was I present but so was the other boy’s mother and many other parents. A good thing because we were there and could intervene. A bad thing because we were there and could intervene.

Two days earlier, I had attended a parent presentation on Children’s Developing Friendships during which the presenter specifically stated that 99.9% of all children were mean at one time or another. Not a pretty sight, but a normal one, in which they play out feelings of power, anger, whatever. She also recommended that in the majority of cases parents should not get involved as children are learning, with the help of their teachers at times, to navigate social relationships. Afterwards, the PTA president asked if there could be a follow up presentation about Parents Developing Friendships and how they should behave when incidents occur. Everyone chuckled at the time. After my son was the instigator of meaness in my presence, I was reminded of what she meant.

I felt angry at my son. I felt sorry for the other child. I felt guilty and embarassed with the other child’s mom. I was even embarassed telling the teacher about the incident in the hopes that she could help out. Fortunately for me, the teacher, the other mom and my friend (who later talked me down) were all calm and rather matter of fact. They recognized it as what it was–a normal though unkind part of childhood behavior. I was not satan and neither was my child. Duh. So many uncomfortable feelings I would rather do without.

Fortunately, the weekend came and I was given just what I needed: a break!! A break from my job, from work (outside the home), colleagues, teachers, parents. With the break came a change in my perspective, a reminder of how much larger my life is than any one interaction, than any one job. And how my son is so much more than any one interaction.

Late yesterday afternoon, I went to the playground with my older son and baby boy in his stroller. For some reason no one else was there so it was oddly calm and quiet. The weather was unseasonably warm, the sun looked unusually gigantic and a gorgeous red-orange as it set over the Hudson river. We went on the swings and the slides then rested on a bench. And all felt right in the world. I took in the beauty of the world, my life, my children and vowed to cap off everyday with an outing to the playground. And then I laughed out loud at the absurdity of the notion that daily trips to the playground could possibly insure me peace. I’m still chuckling…xx Diane

Could Be Worse

The most frequent suggestion friends offered when we were writing Mommy Mantras was this: “Oh, whenever I feel like I have it bad, I just think of Marcy.” I would smile, thank them, and toss their idea out with the rest of the crumpled papers strewn across my floor. Marcy’s situation is a bit mind boggling: she has seven children, a full-time job, and no help whatsoever. (I should also note that her children are bizarrely, well-behaved angels of goodness and mercy, which alters the story a bit.). But we didn’t put it in the book, because for some reason, comparing ourselves to someone else who might have it tougher than we do seemed, I don’t know, completely wrong.

Turns out, I was the one who was wrong. A few months later I was sitting in a seminar on Dialectical Behavior Therapy, a treatment devised by Marsha Linehan to help people with Borderline Personality Disorder. Individuals with BPD have a difficult time regulating their emotions and self-soothing once their fear, anxiety, or anger gets triggered. As a result, when bad things happen, they respond in ways that make things worse. Instead of using strategies like reframing, positive self-talk, or perspective taking to defuse difficult emotions, they fan the flames. Linehan teaches her clients how to react to crises safely and sanely. As I sat listening, it dawned on me, as a mother much of my day was spent in three-alarm, red-button crisis mode. And I’m not joking. Forget the people I work with, I was the one who needed this stuff.

One of the tools that Linehan espouses involves making comparisons to those less fortunate than we are. She specifically advises clients to “watch soap operas; read about disasters” and basically take note of other peoples’ suffering. This, she claims, will “recast one’s own situation in a more positive light.” Basically, her point is that no matter how bad things are for you in any given moment, it could be worse. This seems particularly important during the holiday season when I’m lamenting all of the additional burdens I’m under. So this year, as I tackle Christmas shopping not just for my kids, but for their teachers and therapists, send cards to all of their friends’ families, and try to keep the mountain of snow clothing under control, I will take a deep breath, count my blessings and remind myself it could be worse. At least I’m not Marcy.

* (Linehan, 1993, Skills Training Manual for Treating Borderline Personality Disorder. Guilford Press)

I went to the school nurse and asked her to check out a long standing pain I have been having in my left wrist. “Perhaps it is carpal tunnel syndrome?” I asked. “Unlikely since you’ve been back a week” she politely responded. She asked a few more questions and then wrapped me up with an official looking ace bandage. Felt better. My boss happened to walk in at that exact moment and said “I was meeting with you 5 minutes ago, what could you possibly have done?”. I have no clue, I am embarrassed. “Not sure” I chuckled.

Later that night, I was walking with my two older children, pushing my baby in his stroller and trying to flag down a cab. When it came time to dismantle the stroller, carry the baby in the remaining car seat and shuffle my two other children into the cab, it was clear what the pain was from–life with little kids and lots of apparatus. Uh oh…

I’ve been drowning in bad flashbacks from the yester-years of work and current interactions.

It all began last night when I went to the wake of a colleague’s father. Very glad to show my support and condolences to my colleague but more difficult than I anticipated to ride in a mini-van full of co-workers to and fro for 2 hours. Lovely co-workers I should add. Yet the contrast between their recollection of past and present events from mine were profoundly disturbing to me. “Really?! So in hindsight you think we shouldn’t have amputated that arm?”. Clearly not that precise dillemma but of that ilk. Fortunately I managed to keep my mouth shut–as I mentioned we were in a van and thus there were no opportunities to excuse myself for water or the bathroom.

Immediately upon reaching the wake, my cell phone started ringing. I hate my cell phone by the way and never give the number out–thus I knew it was home. My husband was calling to tell me my beautiful, lovely baby boy had not stopped crying since I’d left the house, was driving everybody insane and could I please come right home. Excellent information to receive at a wake many miles from my home, in a different state, with a mini-van load of other passengers with whom I have to coordinate travel.

The other major issue I discovered last night is that my preferred way of coping/defending against really painful feelings is humor. That does not serve me well at a wake. Especially with colleagues. I was actually finding my whole experience a bit comical but laughter was out of the question given the circumstances. I was a bit shell shocked. Painful and unescapeable van conversation, followed by painful news of crying baby miles away, coated with painful discomfort of interacting with colleagues at a wake. Note to self: do not do this again.

Today I was flooded with memories of former colleagues and regrettable interactions with them which was triggered by a site visit near a specific altercation. My regrets were just piling up. The day was capped off with the sharing of a birth announcement from a co-worker I had essentially fired years before. Who can stop the madness??

Deluged by regret and sorrow, I’ve now made a pretty good recovery. I called my dear friend who talked me down, reminding me that all feelings are temporary and directing me to re-read The Power of Now by Eckard Tolle. She also reminded me that my current situation is excellent–try to live here.

I’m trying to be here now for my beautiful children. that means I gotta go….Diane

My colleague told me that another co-worker who recently gave birth will not be returning to work for a few more months. My colleague added that she thinks the new mom will wind up delaying even more and maybe not come back at all. “She looks so serene. She is clearly loving this new role and she must be great at it. She’s great at everything she tries. In fact, she’s the most serene mother I’ve ever seen.”

Was I not supposed to take offense at any of that?? I mean, I’m serene. Look closely. Can’t you tell I’m serene? Really–take in my serenity. Now I’m being judged for my serenity deficiency? And I’m great at lots of new things I try so you know where you can go put all that serenity.

I want to feel joy for my serene colleague. I know I get what I give in this world and besides it’s nice to be nice, right? Instead I find myself envious of her extra time at home with her baby and jealous of her perceived serenity and competence. And of course guilty for all this too. I see how the rift takes shape between the working (outside the home) mother vs the stay at home mother. At some core level, I feel my serenity is compromised by working and that my baby is having to pay. My beautiful little precious baby.

Co-workers continue to warmly welcome me back and ask how I’m doing. The tone is always kind and sympathetic. My response varies–I’m fine, it’s hard, I have no choice. But I do. And I will need to remind myself of that and the fact that I have many other strengths to share if not serenity. Diane

I can definitely do better than that last entry. It’s Friday morning, the sun is out and I’ve successfully made it through my first week back at school. Yeah Diane! Being back at work certainly has its challenges but I am up to the task.

Thank you Universe for my health, strength and peace of mind at the moment. Thank you for the health of my family, and for friends and family. Thank you for helping me to appreciate the present, this exact moment. Thanks for help lightening up and smiling! None of my woes are actually that big a deal. Some are even comical in the light of day.

TGIF! xx Diane

Boring and uninspired topic I know. I am too exhausted after work to write about something else and yet here I am awake again in the middle of the night. Can’t even blame my waking on Quinn. Something is out of whack–definitely not feeling the whole work-life balance thing.

TGIF. I promise to have something more interesting to say soon. My thoughts for this week: “work is hard. juggleing quality child rearing and work is even harder. It depresses me to not do this all better”. xx Diane

I want to say that work is going well. Still plenty of problems to solve, work to do, ways to be useful… I am taken aback by the sheer volume of issues to address though. Any one task would pose an interesting challenge. They are coming at me at an increasingly fast speed though and I’m feeling like Lucy being overcome by chocolates on the conveyor belt.

It is my first week back. It makes sense that I will need some time to adjust to the faster tempo of work life. And to some of the uncomfortable feelings that go along with differences of opinion, disappointment, dealing with other people’s grievances. Of course I also encounter those events when I am at home or out with my children but there is something less escapeable about these situations at work and the bummer is that I am having these experiences in lieu of being with my baby…I sense the need for a mantra!

Here’s a shot at healthy self-talk: there are work situations that I cannot control–what I can control is how I think and in turn, how I feel and behave. My work is challenging, worthwhile, meaningful. It is at times difficult–that is why it is called “work”. I can stand/tolerate uncomfortable feelings and interactions.

Honestly, I have already had many positive work experiences in these first three days. Colleagues have been welcoming, I’ve resolved problems, begun addressing others, felt positive and productive. I’ve said out loud that I am happy to be back, that I like my job. (I even say I love it at times but I almost always feel it’s an overstatement as soon as the words slip out). I wish I did not focus on the stressful aspects. I am like a weighted pendulum, swinging in many directions but always drawn back to the problem. What a downer I am! This is why I’m up at 2:30 am.

My husband and children are sleeping soundly. My home is lovely and clean. I am healthy with small issues relative to the world at large. On that note I’m getting back in bed. Sweet zzzzs. Diane