Day 214 of The 365 Day Experiment. That Wasn't In The Parenting Handbook.

As any parent will confess, there is no handbook that guides you for what goes along with having a baby and raising a child.  If you are lucky, you can rely on a strong network of support from family and friends who have been through it before.  You can read and brief yourself on what's to come.  You might think you know stuff, but then reality hits…you literally know nothing.  You give birth, and then BAM! Instant family.  You are now responsible for another life who is totally reliant on you.  No pressure.

My friend and co-worker is about to give birth for the first time.  I am so excited for her.  In honor of her, I share some of my favorite moments over the last thirteen years.  No "What To Expect When You Are Expecting" book or any helpful hints from my mom could have ever prepared me for this.

1) Like when I was in labor with my first child and didn't know it.  My water had broken, but I thought I had just become incontinent as yet just another awesome side effect of being insanely pregnant.  Nope.  I ended up with pre-eclempsia and was really sick.  One hour after a whiny phone call to the doctor to complain about my latest symptom and an emergency C-section later I had a new daughter.  Surprise!

2) You think you've got the diaper changing thing down, and then your kid has what can only be called an "explosion."  There is poop everywhere.  You never figure out how a 9 pound person who is lying in a car seat can actually get poop to cover the entire length of their body, from the foot of their onesie all the way to their hair.  You will not have enough baby wipes to clean this disaster when it first occurs, and you will ultimately have to cut your kid out of the outfit and then throw the clothes away.  You may want to toss the car seat.  Once this disaster is over, you will open a bottle of wine to toast your success.  

3) You will have survived the ritual long nights as every parent does, and congratulate yourself on your official joining of the ranks.  You haven't been promoted yet though.  That happens when your child awakens in the middle of the night with a blood curdling scream, alerting you of their horrific earache/fever/(insert medical ailment).  You will be able to do little to comfort them until the pain medication kicks in.  You feel helpless and like you are failing your child.  And then they feel better…until they projectile vomit on you.  And then you don't feel helpless anymore.  At this point, you are seriously wondering - albeit briefly - why the hell you every signed up for this. 

4) You finally get your kid potty trained.  Sort of.  They ALMOST have it.  Except when they have an accident.  You know, at a really inconvenient place, when you don't have a change of clothes for them.  Because you thought they had this.

5) Your kid becomes THAT kid.  The kid that lays down in the middle of the mall, in the center of all the people traffic and absolutely freaks out.  You don't know whether to scream, laugh, cry or all of the above.  So you ride it out, and pray to god it doesn't happen again. 

6) You actually use the phrase "because I said so."  You tell yourself you aren't going to do or say some of the things that drove you crazy about your own parents, and then you find yourself understanding why they did them.  Sometimes you just don't have a better answer.  Or you just give up.

7) The day you are giving your kid a bath, and you turn for a moment, only to be tapped and then presented with a gift.  That gift is a giant ball of poop.  It is literally being handed to you by your two year old.  Once you realize what it is, you are both horrified at what you are holding and absolutely fascinated at the fact that a baseball sized object could come out of a body that small without screaming involved.  And then you go vomit.

I could go on with this forever.  The good thing with these memories, is like labor, it's over relatively quick. The craziness is so far outweighed by the sheer joy our children bring us on a daily basis.  My life is full because of my daughters.  Without question, they are the best thing I've got going.  They offer me laughter, challenge, learning, pride, and love.  

What's a little "explosion" if you've got that to look forward to?

Day 213 of The 365 Day Experiment. The Dumbest Person In The Room.

I like to think I am reasonably intelligent.  And yet it is mornings like today where I sit, pause and think, wow. I feel really f’ing stupid.

I walked into our Cambridge office at 6 AM today to help judge and celebrate the end of an all night Hackathon.  The sun was rising above the heads of about 75 super bright technical minds.  While our office is literally steps away from the MIT campus which some of our people attended, it's a safe bet to assume the majority of them could have gone there had they chosen to.  And I stood out among them.

I didn't just stand out because I was the only one who had showered in the last 24 hours. I didn't stand out because I was one of four women among this sea of men in now-smelly hoodies.  I stood out because I only understood about every sixth-word that came out of their mouths.

This is my second security company.  I understand the threats to our we face from a cyber standpoint, and some basic fundamentals our our field.   At one point, I had enough street cred to play the role of best man in a hacker's wedding.  I even know how to pick a lock.  But when these guys started presenting their projects this morning, I felt like a freshman in high school mistakenly sitting in an AP calculus class.

I tried like hell to follow along.  I really did.  And I truly enjoyed the winning team's presentation…primarily because it was designed for people like me.  It was a two minute video about one of our products, its business value and why it's so important you that you must download it now.  And then the team they partnered with then presented a far more complex solution that went way deeper into the technical pieces and they lost me again.

And yet, I was still into it.  I'm old and wise enough now not to be intimidated by this kind of brainpower.  What they have in technical acumen I have in other forms of intelligence.  I'm even certain some of them might look at me and say "Hmmm.  I have no idea how she knows that.  Or how she could do that." Or maybe they don't. Maybe they think "She has no idea what I'm talking about, therefore she's an idiot."  If so, screw them.

My daughter came home from school at the beginning of the her fifth grade year and told me how they had explored different types of intelligence in her class.  I'm sure it was intended as a self-esteem building exercise, but it's an interesting one nonetheless.  As I went to research "The Nine Types of Intelligence" (I believe that's what they used), it reinforced my belief that we are all gifted somewhere.  Some people are off the charts in one areas.  Some show incredible strength in several.  I've yet to meet anyone in my life who is brilliant across all nine.  Aptitude maybe.  Excels, certainly not. 

The point is this.  I may have sat in a room of incredibly bright people with "number and reasoning smarts" today.  They shared the room with a woman who has some smarts none of them will ever be able to wrap their heads around.  And yet I'd like to think that's what makes companies like mine special.  You value the gifts and talents of all, and you balance and respect it.  Everyone has a place, and a role to play.  You just need to figure out how to understand each other, how to partner together and then work towards a common goal.  

That's a language we can all speak.

Interested in learning about the 9 Types of Intelligence?  Check it out:

http://yourbrainatwork.org/the-nine-different-types-of-intelligence/

Day 212 of The 365 Day Experiment. 3 Days, 2 Nights and 1 Word.

It's only Wednesday, and I'm ready to call it a week.  Months of planning for an event came together successfully, and the team can call victory.  I got to see old friends and new colleagues, and strengthen relationships with people from all over the company.  And, as I learned, people feel like they got to strengthen their relationship with me.  And not the way I expected.

On Day 210 I wrote of my Fear of Cocktail Parties.  On Day 211 I wrote of Storytellers.  Last night, someone at the second party of the week gave me the word "Unflappable."  Let me attempt to weave all these three together.

Most people can overcome a fear of cocktail parties with an actual  cocktail…or three.  I learned in the early days of my career to subscribe to the two drink maximum at a work function.**  This has served me well over the years.  If you partner this rule of thumb with my inability to have no more than two drinks over the course of few hours because of my headache medication, you understand I am really setting myself to enter into this 450-person party at near maximum uncomfortable level.

And as I went through my second party of the week, working my way through the crowd and meeting as many unfamiliar faces as I could, I was stopped along the way by some friendly faces.  Those people I get to see fairly regularly, in the halls of my office.  They aren't the people on my team, nor the people I regularly interact with.  And yet, they knew me.  Not  Christina, Chief People Officer.  They knew Christina, the writer.  And they talked to me about it.  And I felt naked in a room of 450 people.

I have written before that being both fairly introverted and private by nature, the way that I have trudged through this Experiment is to pretend that no one actually reads it.  I write the way I live my everyday life;  for myself, and do not worry about what others might think of me if they chose to take a peek.   And yet here I stood at a work function.  And suddenly I was faced during multiple occasions throughout the evening by people who had been reading me.  Holy s*it.

So I chose to respond in two ways.  

For one, I asked a younger guy, who has to be at least twenty years younger than me, "why?"  As in, "why do you possibly find anything that I have to say interesting?"  And then I listened.  And this happened five different times over the course of the evening.  With each person I approached throughout the night,  I was never sure where my conversations were going to end up.  And while most stayed professional and light, five ended up with, "I hope you don't mind me bringing this up, but I read your blog."  

So I took advantage of the moment and asked them why.  It was fascinating to me to learn why these people, of varying ages and genders, would find anything that I had to say even remotely worth their few minutes each day.  And I learned each person had a different reason to connect.  And when they told me their reasons, it opened that window to talk about themselves, which everyone did willingly…which put me right back into my comfort zone. 

The second thing I did was ask the first guy for a word for tonight.  His word was "unflappable."  And rather than write about what that word means to me, I chose to use it as a challenge to myself as soon as it came out of his mouth.  My inner self was flapping hard.  I was so incredibly uncomfortable knowing one co-worker was coming forward and saying "hey, I read you."  I was thinking if he was saying that, someone else in this big room probably is too.  So don't panic.  Remain unflappable, and ride it out.  If anyone else approaches you, use it as a learning experience, and figure out why.  And then turn a discomfort into a comfort.  

And that's what I did.  I ended up learning three things as a result of last night.

1.  If I remain calm, and "unflappable," I can find the opportunity in just about any form of chaos.  Its served me well in business, but last night it proved true in my personal life.  I gained a ton of knowledge about my connections with people.  And I also proved my theory about if I share a little bit more about myself, people are even more willing to share their stories.  I love that connection. 

2.  I realized I am a storyteller too.  I may not be gifted like my new buddy Josh who tells his story for a living, but it didn't actually occur to me that that's what I've been doing for the last 212 days.  Ok, I'm a little slow. 

3.  Sometimes, even the "people people" need a break from talking.  When you need a break, dance.  It breaks down barriers, it works off the 43 apps you just stuffed your face with, and it gives you a rest from the verbal.  Dancing brings people together in a different, awesome way.  

Thank god for the dance floor.

**Unsolicited career advice:  Yes, open bars are awesome.  But you are still at work.  Don't be that sloppy drunk person at a work event.  You want to be judged on your work, not how well you can party.  Even if you think you are with your work "friends," your friends go back to the office and share stories about the funny stuff you did when you were hammered the night before.  You really don't want that reputation. Just sayin'.

Day 211 of The 365 Day Experiment. Storytellers.

The whole of my company is together in one place today.  It's an extraordinary gift to be able to fund this opportunity to be able to gather people from all over the world into one place for the purposes of getting on the same page, collaborating, and inspiring one another.  Today, corny as it sounds, is somewhat magical.

Many corporate kickoffs, I am told, line of heads of business units up and they pop up presentation after presentation…death by a thousand Powerpoints. I am grateful I have yet to work at one of those companies.  I have been extraordinarily fortunate to work with gifted leaders, who take the time to not only define a clear vision, but also take the time to carefully craft what they are trying to communicate.  Many of my colleagues are truly skilled at this.  

Being just one week away from having the 2014 Winter Olympics commence, it was a natural theme for our now global company to select.  And when it came time to choose an outside keynote speaker, the default  selection would appear to be an Olympic athlete.  I vetoed that idea.

For anyone who has been part of a hyper growth company, you know it is not a graceful journey.  You meet with a number of challenges and obstacles along the way.  And it is not IF you will meet them, it is HOW you respond to them that defines your future success.  As a result, I became fixated on having a Paralympic athlete speak to our group.  Sometimes, we need a visual reminder of those obstacles, and how people handle them.  

The question then become who to select.  And the choice became obvious incredibly quickly.  We found a guy so incredibly inspiring not just because of what he's overcome, but because of how he approaches life.  He is funny, irreverent, intelligent, and just plain fantastic.  He's a brilliant storyteller, and had the entire company paying attention.  That's a pretty impressive feat with this crew.  

Thank you, Josh Sundquist.  Thanks for inspiring so many today.  I'm glad we got to hang out.  :)

Check him out at:

http://joshsundquist.com

https://www.facebook.com/JoshSundquistFans?ref=br_tf

Day 210 of The 365 Day Experiment. Fear of Cocktail Parties.

Today marked the beginning of my company’s 2014 Kickoff event.  Pretty exciting stuff.  The last time we did it was 2012, and we were 200 people.  Two years later we are now a global company with nearly 450 people.  It’s incredible to see people coming together from all over the world, united in their desire to build an amazing company.  I live for this stuff.

I’ve been working with a team of talented people to coordinate this event.  We planned each of the three days carefully, to ensure we were maxing out the time we had with people.  In a company moving as quickly as ours, to ask people to take time away from the day to day is a big deal. We don’t want to squander it.  There is pressure to make each moment count, and make each dollar invested worth it.

Today, we began the session with an event for the managers of the company.  Roughly one quarter of the company was there.  It was a great afternoon, filled with activities intended to introduce people and build collaboration across teams and offices.  Afterward, we all headed to cocktail reception hosted by the Chairman of our board. 

I have been looking forward to this kickoff since the planning began a few months ago.  I’ve played a heavy role in the design and feel much ownership for its ultimate success or failure.  And yet, there is one part of this entire thing that I absolutely wish I could avoid altogether.  The cocktail parties.

People I work with assume I am an extrovert.  They believe because I work in a “people job,” walking into a cocktail party and chatting up co-workers would be fun and/or an easy task.  I would rather eat a beetle.  

As we were setting up yesterday, one of my young co-workers asked me if I got nervous before speaking to a room of people.  I told her I do not.  It is the one on one conversations that make me uncomfortable.  She thought I was insane.  So I tried to explain.  

If I am speaking TO people, I feel no pressure.  I know what I have to say, and I am free to perform as appropriate.  It is solely based on knowledge and skill.  If I am in a cocktail party situation, I feel like I have to approach people I don’t know. And then I have to figure out what to say.  And how to keep the conversation going because I care about making the other person comfortable.  And I hate this pressure.  And of course, I am not completely socially awkward.  I have done this long enough that I can execute this without totally making an ass out of myself.  But inside, I am secretly counting the minutes til I can go home.  

I think we learn our strengths and weaknesses as we get older.  I am a good one on one person.  Put me in a room with someone and I can tell you their life story when we emerge an hour later.  I love really getting to know people.  Superficial banter is an art form.  It’s just one that makes me really uncomfortable.

So I will head off to bed tonight, completely excited about what tomorrow is going to bring.  I can’t wait to see the entire organization all in one place, celebrating what we’ve achieved together, and bonding around what’s to come.  But as the day draws to a close and we inch closer to cocktail hour, I’ll be getting that itchy feeling.  And I’ll do what I always do in these situations.   Take a deep breath, look for a friendly face, and dive in.  I’ll be damned if a cocktail party is going to be my biggest fear in life…but right now, it’s in the running. 

Day 209 of The 365 Day Experiment. The Grammys.

I love the Grammys.  It's one of the few nights I look forward to every year, without needing to do anything to prepare for it.  I get to sit back, enjoy fashion, incredible music, and some innovative performances all from the comfort of my couch. 

Unlike Oscar night, where I haven't seen half of the movies nominated, I am typically familiar with almost everything nominated on this night.  I have a point of view on who should win, and who will get robbed.  I look forward to seeing my favorite artists, and relish the introduction to new acts.  For someone who typically doesn't watch a ton of television and can't sit still, this is a night that is almost as enjoyable as a concert.  Almost.

So I'm logging off early, cracking a bottle of wine, and kicking back.  I'm ready to watch Taylor Swift make her "ohmygodican'tbelieveiwon" faces as she collects her awards for Red, and cheering on the Best New Artist as they take the stage for the first time and watch their dreams come true. 

This is my fantasy life playing out on stage.  If I had the musical gift, this is the night I would be working towards.  Alas, I'm not.  The business world is my stage, and building thriving companies are my albums.  I am so grateful that I've had a few hits.  And just like my girl P!nk, I'm just getting started.

Day 208 of The 365 Day Experiment. F-It Days.

There are Mother’s Days and birthdays, but when it comes down to it, these days aren’t really about you.   While always incredibly well intentioned, these days, while meant for you, aren’t always spent doing what you would really want to do if you had a day to yourself.  So I have created a new holiday.  It’s called the F-It Day.

It’s the ultimate personal day.  It’s your own movable holiday, so you can choose it whenever you need it during the year.  And let’s be honest.  We all need one.  It’s goal is simple:  you are free to do whatever you want on your special day.  You plan it yourself, so you ensure that the time is spend doing exactly what you want to be doing. 

I conceived of this idea some months back with my assistant, when my world seemed slightly overwhelming and I just wanted one day away from work, school projects,  lawyers and chaos.  And I asked her to surprise me by clearing my calendar and find me just one day when I could plan this.  She did, and then I ultimately had to cancel it because they day she chose just didn’t line up correctly with other events going on.  Good intention, poor execution.  So I am attempting to pull this off again.  This time I’ve chosen the day, and I’m carefully choosing the day’s events.  While I am learning to ask for help and beginning to rely more on others, this is one day that is for me.  To have it work for me, I’ve got it do it the way it works best for me.

So I have chosen a Friday, right after my birthday.  I picked it for a number of reasons.  Two big events will have just been completed at work, and it will be a great time to step away for a day.  Friday is my night without my kids, and I’ll be able sleep in that morning - a whole extra hour - and then put them on the bus. It will be good to see them that day, even if just for an hour in the morning.  And I’ve filled the day with three spa services from gift cards I’ve received and haven’t used over the past year.  Yep, it’s a day of pampering myself at long last.

Of course that will take up a good chunk of the day.  But I’ll spend the unscheduled time that day doing good things for my soul.  I’ll eat well.  I’ll work out.  Maybe I’ll read.  I’ll cook dinner for someone special because I haven’t done that in a long time and I miss cooking big people food.  And I’ll certainly find time to count my blessings.

My F-It day is two weeks away, and I can’t wait.  I’ve got our entire company kickoff off next week, a board meeting the following week, and a whole bunch of daily grind in between.  Just having to have the ability to know that I have one day on the horizon that is just for me - now that’s something to look forward to.

Day 207 of The 365 Day Experiment. I Know Why This Caged Bird Sings.

When I was a child and stayed home from school sick, my mom would supply me with Archie comic books and ginger ale to make me feel better.   As I got older, I would dig through her bookshelf to find something interesting to dig into.  As a result, I ended up reading a variety of things that were probably somewhat age inappropriate.  Sidney Sheldon and Erica Jong probably weren't intended for a twelve year old.  But then I discovered Maya Angelou.

There were a number of volumes by her sitting on that bookshelf.  I remember sneaking "I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings" into my room, and tearing through it in one day flat.  I was astonished at the candor and bravery with which Angelou wrote.   Up until then, the majority of books in my life had consisted of school-issued literature and the standard pre-teen diet of Judy Blume.  And those were fantastic.  This, however, was somewhat life-changing.  It made me consider what it meant to truly live your life to the fullest, regardless of the hand you are dealt. She was the first female I had been exposed to who displayed the true ability to not only play the character in the movie of her own life…she wrote the script, and directed the movie, too.  She was, and continues to be, incredibly inspirational to me.

Last weekend, my daughters and I were walking through Barnes and Noble, and my oldest asked me about Maya Angelou.  She had learned about her poetry in school, and she asked if we could buy one of her books.  Fortunately, I was able to steer her to our own bookshelf at home. I was thrilled we were about to become a third generation Angelou-loving family.

Today, I went home sick from work.  These days, my mom is not here to bring me reading material and drinks when I'm unwell.  But after I slept off my headache and got an awesome mid-afternoon hug from my daughter before she took off for the evening, I picked up my old favorite book.  And I re-read some of those incredible words that I have revisited over and over again through the years.  

And then I sat and thought about the title of this book, and it's relevance to me. Originally, it was a poem written by American poet Paul Laurence Dunbar.  I believe when it was written, his intent was to share a black man's longing for freedom in a racist white society.  Okay, that is not my reality -  but I still appreciate the beauty of its words and its sentiment.  But  I translate the words to what they have always meant to me, with my own interpretation.

One of my biggest fears in life is to be caged, or trapped.  I fear ever being that bird stuck in a cage.  I am meant to fly free and unfettered.   I need the autonomy to able to make my own decisions and explore things, and when I feel I can't, I get very agitated and sad.  However, in the poem when the bird is caged, it sings.  It sings to distract itself from its situation. It, in the words of my friend Don, remains exuberant in the face of a dismal situation.

This bird is free to fly, and it spreads its wings wide.  And while my voice may not be fantastic, I sing.  I sing loud, and I sing proud, because when things are not their brightest, I will find a way to find the positive in my situation.  I will always find the song in my cage. 

Fortunately, this bird flies with its own tiny flock.  And I have the lock picking skills to break out of any cage I am ever put in.  And I will always, always, have a song.

Day 206 of The 365 Day Experiment. That is SO Fetch.

Fans of the movie Mean Girls will immediately recognize the word “fetch,” and ten years later, we realize it’s still not going to happen. But as with every cool trend from high school you fall in love with, you try hard to make it work.

Mean Girls came out ten years ago, and yet it could have come out when I was in high school, or hit the theaters tomorrow.  Some themes remain relevant no matter what year they appear.  Struggles with popularity and body changes, and whether the cute guy will ask you to the dance; those all go with growing up.   One thing, however, has drastically changed since I was in school.  Sex.

Yes, people had sex when I was in high school. However, it was a pretty quiet thing.  You didn’t wear it as a badge of honor, and if you did, you were likely in a pretty serious relationship.  Those who operated outside of those norms were of course labeled with horrible names.  It was pretty standard stuff though.  We had “bases”, and as kids worked their way through middle school on into the later years of high school, they would work their way around the bases.  Not everyone.  But that’s generally how it worked.

And now I’m dealing with my 7th grade daughter’s understanding of sex.  She is about to learn details in her health class that are making me seriously wonder what the hell has happened to our youth.  And yes, that makes me sound old, but seriously?!  It’s massively messed up that a parent should be nostalgic for good old fashioned sex when they are thinking about their daughter.  Her thirteen year old daughter.  Let me explain.

My daughter is about to learn about different varieties of sex in school.  I’m talking oral, vaginal and anal.  Are you f’ing kidding me?!  Why you might ask?  Because if I understand correctly, in today’s teenage world, kids are having anal sex as a form of allowing the girls to remain “virgins.”  I will give these boys massive points for their incredible sales skills, because I know a tremendous amount of adult men who have not been able to pull that feat off.  All joking aside, it absolutely floors me that this is what kids are doing as a form of sexual expression right out of the gate.  Seriously, what the hell is left for them?  Full on Fifty Shades action with partner number two?  

And the schools feel like they need to educate these kids now, before the “exploration” starts.  My daughter is not excited for this set of classes.  I don’t blame her.  To prepare her, we had a preliminary conversation about some of it.  For any parent who is squeamish at the thought of having “the talk” with their kid, just consider tossing oral sex into that chat.  AAAwwwkkkwwwaaarrrddd.  

And here is my favorite part of the whole thing.  After all this learning about what the kids of today are doing to show their affection for one another, I found out this is just the audition.  They hook up and then decide if they want to actually date. Wait, what?!  You mean, I could be 15 years old, have anal sex with you, and THEN you decide if you want to take me to Olive Garden with a group of 16 other kids?  F THAT.   I am fairly certain if I was a teenage girl in 2014, I would not be dating - or doing - anyone.  

I’ve got my work cut out for me with two young daughters.  Yes, we all know what teenage boys are after.  That has been consistent for decades.  But how girls choose to respect themselves and respond to it?  We’ve got a lot of work to do there, ladies.  I have no illusions of my daughters being virgins when they get married.  I do, however, expect them to respect their bodies, and respect themselves.  

Anything less would be so NOT fetch.  

Day 205 of The 365 Day Experiment. Band-Aids For Grown Ups.

We had a running joke in my family when I was growing up about what my father would come home to.   It was not uncommon for my father to arrive  after a long day at work and be greeted by nothing but a puddle of blood.  My brother and I were so prone to stitches that the local hospital literally knew us by name.  And we were okay with that.  We were fearless kids who took risks and paid the price with our bodies.  Nothing major.  Everything heals with time and a bandage. 

And yet as we grew up, I continued to take risks.  Less physical, more emotional.  In my twenties, jumping out of a plane was a highlight.  In my thirties, wearing white around my two young daughters was considered a big risk.  Now, in my forties, I'm taking risks with my life that don't just affect me, they affect others.  My kids.  My inner circle.  My colleagues.  Me.  And if I fall down, a Band-Aid doesn't fix it all anymore.

And yet, there is something that draws me to want to continue to see how much I can push it. To see how much I can take on physically without hurting myself.  To see how far I can push myself mentally to create and grow.  And to see how much I can emotionally take on without losing it.  

Tonight I tested myself with a very stupid experiment.  I did the emotional version of walking across coals.  And I paid the price for a ten minute period.  And fortunately, my good friend was there to act as my human Band-Aid.  Not only did she clean my wound with the proverbial Bactine, but then she apologized for allowing me be so stupid in the first place.  It was not her fault.  It was mine.  I am the idiot who elects to do such stupid things.  And when you ride without a helmet, you are going to get hurt. Luckily, I heal very quickly.  Kind of like T-1000 from Terminator 2…except I'm not a bad guy. 

And yet, this is one of the few lessons I will likely not learn from.  To test these boundaries for myself is what makes me feel alive.  I need to feel the full range of human emotion.  And sometimes, hurt is just part of the picture.  It is a small price to pay when joy plays the predominant role. 

I will continue to take my risks, because I will continue to live my life with passion.  And I will get hurt along the way. Sometimes, stitches and bandages won't help.  That's what friends and time are for; those are the Band-Aids for grown ups.  Hopefully, I won't need them often.  But when I look down at my scars, each of them tells a story from my past.  

I'll take my banged up journey over a smooth sail any day of the week.  

Day 204 of The 365 Day Experiment. Star Unstruck.

My daughters received the golden ticket this Christmas.  In pre-teen language, that means they received tickets to see One Direction, the latest boy band to intoxicate young girls with their skinny jeans and Beiber-esque hair.  This means, of course, I will be seeing these five man-boys as well.  Ah, what we do for our children.  

I’ve taken my girls to a handful of concerts over the past few years, and am blissfully happy to know I am raising sane girls.  Since the days of Elvis and The Beatles, there seems to be some crazy dynamic of young girls absolutely losing it when a decent-looking musical guy takes the stage.  Crying, screaming, insanity.  My girls have not taken to this behavior.    They dig the bands and think the guys are cute, but they seem take it all in stride.  I am grateful for this.  I take it as a good sign for the future.

I’m convinced that we are a society obsessed with fame.  It used to be you earned your fame, or you were born into it.  Today it seems the names that get the most attention are those who are famous for being famous.  What the hell is that?  And why do we care about these people? Maybe the Kardashians are lovely people; I don’t know them, so I can’t judge them.  It floors me, however, that this family is printing money exploiting each other on tv, all for our entertainment pleasure.  What do they actually do?  And why do more people know Bruce Jenner for his bad plastic surgery than they do for his Olympic Gold?  

Our children are growing up in a generation where social media allows them to star in their own show, on a non-stopping basis.  The constant selfies, YouTube videos of themselves, pithy Tweets …they all try to outdo each other.  Rarely are they clever and standout, but those who do become superstars. They are growing up in an age where they actually consider their brand and their image, prepping themselves for a life of “fame.”  

If you think about it, it makes sense why it looks so appealing.  Famous people always looks so glamorous; so happy.  They are wealthy, and they are thin.  They seem to have perfect lives.  On the surface level, it is understandable why young people aspire to this.  

Here’s how I turn it around to my girls.  Sure, fame looks enticing.  I am thoroughly convinced if I had access to a personal trainer, a stylist and had someone doing my hair and make up everyday I could look almost famous too. And I could make millions dollars a year on a movie set.  And, yes, maybe I would get some cool perks like a great table in a restaurant, but would it truly make me happy?  I doubt it.  (Reality check: Yes, this would be cool for a few days, but I would be the worst famous person ever.  I would out-Kanye paparazzi by with my hostility for having my picture taken, and would loathe being recognized.  Yep, the money and glamour is fun to think about, but the lifestyle is about as desirable as a stint in prison to me.)

I believe the only way we find joy in life is to find our own meaning and purpose.   Being able to follow our own paths, with our own vision for our future and being truthful with oneself is far more valuable than any red carpet.  Just ask all those famous people who have crashed and burned, because they had no real raison d’etre.  They were just famous.  It didn’t make them good people, and it sure doesn’t always make them happy.

It troubles me, this world we live in, where Miley Cyrus needs to twerk to gain attention, and then has legions of young girls follow her lead because they think it’s cool.  Lady Gaga seems to get it.  She has begun to tone herself down, and is beginning to let her talent speak for her.  Really, how many meat dresses can a woman wear before you become more famous for your outrageousness than you do for your talent?  

All of us know someone famous, or know of someone who is connected to someone who knows someone famous.  They are just regular people.  Perhaps regular people in extraordinary circumstances, but regular people all the same.  Just like you and me.  

Which is why I’m glad my daughters are learning not to put a premium on fame.  In this house, we’re focused on figuring out who you are, and owning that.  And then maximizing your potential.  And if in the most unlikely of circumstances whatever they do with their lives was to cause fame, well, then, they will have earned it.  And then we will have a discussion about doing good with your fame (ala Audrey Hepburn and Paul Newman) vs. becoming tabloid fodder just to keep your name in the press. 

We are all stars.  Each and every one of us.  Some shine a little more brightly.  They are not better because of it; they just twinkle a little more.  

Day 203 of The 365 Day Experiment. The Pursuit of Happiness.

Someone I respect greatly is researching and writing about the topic of "exuberance" right now.  I love that word.  It's his word to explore, not mine right now though, so tonight, I've chosen "happiness."

This word holds deep meaning to me.  I think if I was to choose one word that was the fundamental disconnect in my marriage, it boiled down to this.  We disagreed on our definitions of happiness. 

I do not even begin to attempt to define other people's interpretations of what happiness means to them.  I can only define it for myself.  

It has absolutely nothing to do with walking around with a smile on my face all the time.  It has to with feeling fulfilled.  Like I am challenging myself.  Like I am living my life to its fullest.  I am happy when I am pushing myself beyond my comfort zone.  And I am happy when my kids are secure, laughing and thriving. 

Over the past year, at a time when one would think I'd be at one of the most unhappy periods of my life, I haven't been.  I have been happy.  Really happy.  I have been challenged like never before.  I am experiencing new things and taking advantage of my newfound independence.  I am living, and I am living life on my terms.  And my kids are indeed secure, laughing and thriving.  Life is good.

Life is not perfect.  For someone like me, I might never be satisfied.  I hold the bar incredibly high for myself.  I strive to live the best life I possibly can, every day.  It's not always smooth, but I'm happy right now.  Really happy. :)

Day 202 of The 365 Day Experiment. This Way To The Lizard King.

Europe, 1993.  One of six cities on a two week trip.  The kind of vacation you take in your twenties, when you have very little money to spend, but you don't care.  You are going for the experience, not the luxury.  

First stop, Paris.  It's early Sunday morning and we've just arrived.  There is nothing open, and we are starving.  We head out to find food and the only thing available is some round balls that look like goiters and grape leaves.  I am still starving because there is some stuff I just won't touch. 

There is so much to see and experience in this city, and we do much of it.  Truthfully though, the thing I want to see most is my childhood idol.  I am on a mission to see Jim Morrison's grave.   As we dragged our duffel bags uphill through Pere Lachaise cemetery, through the messages etched into other's tombstones stating things like "This way to the Lizard King," I was fascinated.  And when we approached, I was floored.

The site was surrounded by mourners.  Kids who reeked of patchouli and tears streaming down their faces.  Music playing from their boom boxes, and a guard standing by ensuring no one stole the Morrison head that graced the tomb. Not at all what I was expecting - it was so much better. Turns out hauling bags up a hill didn't disappoint. It was like the scene out of a bizarre movie, and it was fantastic.

From there, we took the train from country to country.  And while it started eventfully in France, it ended more memorably in Germany.  Munich, specifically. 

One can either assume it incredibly poor planning, or rather brilliant, to plan a trip to visit the concentration camp at Dachau on the same day you are planning to hit Oktoberfest.   The morning proved to be one of the most moving, horrifying and memorable experiences of my entire life.  Nothing you learn in a text book or see in a movie could have prepared me for what I saw and felt.  It still haunts me over twenty years later.

We were so depressed after leaving that site, it seemed natural to drink the dread of the morning away in the chaos of a beer garden.  It's one thing to take part in Oktoberfest in the U.S., where you get tickets for a couple of pints of brew and stand around freezing with a bunch of your buddies while laughing at those who come dressed to play in lederhosen.  Oktoberfest - the real one - was incredible.  Even for a girl who isn't a beer drinker.  

From the beer tents, to the incredibly strong frauleins who haul multiple liters of beers per hand, this was an unbelievable atmosphere; like a three ring circus of barley.  And after a few hours of beer sampling and watching hysterical Japanese patrons take pictures of everything, it was clearly time to call it a day. 

And as we sprinted all wobbly down the street in desperate need of a bathroom - those beers were HUGE - we became hysterical, laughing as we approached the lousy hotel we were staying at.  Some idiots had hung their laundry outside their window, and there were underwear and bras blowing in the breeze like colorful tiny flags.  Perhaps it was the beer that made this seem so funny, but it seemed so stupidly…American.  We cackled all the way to the hotel, until, of course, we realized those idiots were us.

Oops.

I heart Europe.  

Day 201 of The 365 Day Experiment. Straight Lines Are Boring.

When I was young, I thought it was important to always have a plan.

Shortly after my college graduation, my dad and I sat in a Starbucks, and on a napkin we drew a timeline.  It started with my desire to go to grad school, and had a few points to mark when I aspired to start a personal life which included others (marriage & kids) and when I would start a business.  And that was it.  I still have that napkin.  It is framed in my home office. It wasn't much of a plan, but it gave me direction. And I think it's the only straight line I've followed in my adult life.  

Today, we live in world that thrives on instantaneous knowledge.  If we want to know something, we can immediately Google it to find the source, or missing piece of data that vexes us.  That same need exists for people wanting immediate answers for their lives as well.  To want to know the paths to our futures is likely normal, but we would be missing the point, and frankly, most of the fun. 

I lived in Chicago for a summer when I was in college and I drove back and forth from Boston and the beginning and end of my stay there.  It was okay on both ends of the drive, but the middle was awful. Why?  Because it was flat.  And straight.  There was nothing going during those long tedious hours. And that was rough, because straight with no turns and or bumps along the way is really, really, boring. 

We don't always know which path our life is going to take.  We can carefully lay out plans, but they don't always come to fruition the way we expect.  And I might suggest that even if we follow the plans we design for ourselves, we aren't truly experiencing our lives the way we should.  Life is full of twists and turns.  It's not about having a perfect plan mapped out.  It's about being able to know where you ultimately want to go, and then being able to navigate along all the detours along the way.  I never wanted my life to be like the middle states that I drove that summer.

Funny…I have a horrible sense of direction.  But I really love figuring out how to get to the next place.  At this point in my life, I don't need a map anymore, or a napkin with pen marks sketching out my future. But it's fun to refer to that original one created all those years ago, just to prove the point.  It's not always about the destination.  The journey is far more interesting.

Day 200 of The 365 Day Experiment. Broken.

A milestone hit today, reaching Day 200. Ironic that my topic is coinciding with a Friday, which is normally my “free night.” I typically relish the opportunity to make plans and get out to enjoy my freedom without children. Tonight I can’t. I feel lousy. I thought I was catching a cold, but it really might just be reality catching up with me.

I feel broken today. I don’t feel broken because I have a stuffy nose and weary muscles. I feel broken because I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders and I’m in the process of trying to rebalance it. And that weight is hurting my previously broken shoulder. It’s not a pity party, and there is nothing anyone can do to help me. It’s just one of those moments.  It will pass.

Perhaps it is because all within the past two weeks, my ex has announced his engagement, his name is now off the deed to “my” house, and our divorce papers arrived in the mail.  Talk about closure. 

In addition,  I’m having one of those weeks when I feel like I just can’t catch up at work.  I have so many projects going on, and I just can’t find the hours to complete them.  And then when I get home, I can’t take my coat off before my beloved children descend upon me with their daily tales.  I wouldn’t trade that for anything…but to transition my moods and thoughts so quickly is exhausting.  Especially these last few weeks.

So tonight I sit at home.  I am happy not to be out, enjoying a new restaurant or out at a concert.  I am lounged on my couch, snuggled in a blanket, fireplace ablaze.  For the first time in awhile, I am alone.  And I am enjoying the solitude, and the ability to get lost in my thoughts.  I’ve allowed myself to take a deep breath and get sad at the closure, and then smile at its completeness. And I’ve allowed myself to relax, finally, and open my computer just to write, and not work.  Not tonight.  Tonight, for one night, it can just be about me.  

I am not unlike Rocky Balboa, albeit in chick form…and hopefully a tad more articulate.  I am striving to go the distance, and I will do so to keep my self respect.  I may have moments of getting knocked down, but I will always come back up swinging.  And I will keep “training” to keep bettering my game in all aspects of my life.   So tonight I might feel like I’m sitting on a stool in the corner with a broken nose, but tomorrow morning I know I will wake up with that nose reset, bruises faded, and gloves laced back up tight.  

And I will triumph.  

Day 199 of The 365 Day Experiment. Blast From The Past.

Today started out rather unremarkably, except for a rather nice send off I got.  I ran through my day with a series of back to back meetings, pleasantly surprised when my noon meeting was cancelled and I got to spend a few impromptu minutes with a favorite colleague grabbing some quick lunch.

And then the day turned.  I had an interesting last meeting with a woman who was interested in some of the work I have developed over the years (hey, who doesn't love a little flattery through imitation) and then closed it out with a great dinner with my most "dream big" friend.  I walked away from my otherwise mundane day inspired, energized and my head filled with a hundred new ideas.

And on my way home, as I hit traffic lights, I purged my email.  Over 100 in my personal email box over the course of just the afternoon.  Thankfully, most were spam or nonsense, and could be deleted without any attention or energy.  And then one caught my eye, standing out among all the other junk that surrounded it. 

It was from a cherished old friend from 20 years ago.  He had reached a few days before, after receiving my holiday card.  I guess he realized someone was missing from the picture this year, and felt compelled to reach out.   And with a quick exchange, he sent me a thoughtful note, and I responded with a pithy message back.  I also included a link to this Experiment.  Since he knows much of my backstory, I thought he might find it mildly entertaining.  And it would also save me the headache of having to explain what had happened and what drove me to this writing.  Even when I think I'm over it and have completely moved on, I realize sometimes talking about makes me feel lousy.  Like right now as I type this.

So I took the easy way out and choose to let him discover for himself. I figured he would go to Day 1, and then maybe Day 198 and be done with it, and then be able to say to me, "Hey, that was…um, interesting." Or something kind but neutral.  But I certainly didn't expect what I got back.

I was greeted tonight with a true old fashioned letter.  Okay, granted, it was in email, but this thing should have been written with a quill and been put on parchment paper.  My friend had taken the time to reference things I had written about and refer them back to memories we had shared two decades ago.  Funny recollections about my dad's indifference to him, and my brother's talent.  He wrote it in the same hysterical, inappropriate tone that drew me to him all those years ago and I laughed out loud at his comments.

And then he did a complete about face and shared some incredibly sad news about one of our beloved former colleagues, who is battling brain cancer.  I wanted to pull him through my phone for ending such a wonderful catch-up letter with such incredibly depressing news.  And yet, that's life, right?   It's full of fond memories of our pasts, but also the painful reminders of what's happening in the here and now.  And hopefully, some pretty special things to celebrate along the way.

This guy made my night, and I can't wait until we catch up on the phone tomorrow to fill in the gaps.  I'm so glad he's in a great place in his life with a beautiful wife and kids, as I remember him as the single guy who couldn't be farther away from that when we were good friends.  

So I've found yet another benefit to having put myself out there with this Experiment.  I have reconnected with so many people - and been introduced to many new ones as well - that my world feels larger.  And somehow filled with just a little bit more love.  

People move away, get married, change priorities in life, but true friendship remains.  I have a group of people in my life that I feel like even though I haven't seen or connected to in a very long time, they have my proverbial back.  And I theirs.  And that feels really, really, good.

So thanks for that tonight, J.  It was needed.

Day 198 of The 365 Day Experiment. I Heart My Shower.

I used to be a morning shower person, and most days, I still take a quick one before preparing myself for the day ahead.  However, I have changed that up over the past year or so.  I now indulge in the nightly shower.  And I do treat it like an indulgence. 

Forget about getting clean.  Let’s assume anyone who cares about hygiene maintains some semblance of routine.  Baths are waaaaay too time consuming and not at all practical for me.  Not only does my large tub take far too long to fill up to be useful, I cannot wash my long hair underneath the spout in a manner that does not have me breaking my neck to do it.  That, and anytime I have ever attempted to take a bath and enjoy like in the movies, I inevitably end up dropping my book in the tub and end up pissed off.  Baths were not intended for girls like me.  

So I get home from work, kiss the kids, and make them dinner.  We talk about the day, and share stories.  And when everyone is adequately caught up, I disappear.  Typically, my clothes are off before I get upstairs. I can get away with this because I live in a house full of women.  I turn the hall lights off though, as I am careful not to give my across the street neighbors an impromptu peep show.

Once in the privacy of my bathroom, I am in my version of paradise.  This ceramic version of vacation is a retreat, even if for a quarter of an hour.  And yes, I care about the environment.  I recycle, and I do my best not to waste.  But I will completely cop to using up my fair share of hot water on the perfect hot shower.  Because I need it.  I am overworked, overtired, and just plain weary by the time I drag my butt up those stairs.  I don’t deal with it by attaching myself to a bottle of wine, or bitching to my friends on a daily basis.  I just wash it away.  And I enjoy that peace and solitude for those few precious, peaceful minutes.  You know why?  Because I f’ing deserve it. 

And then just as I have washed the conditioner out of my hair and the scent of vanilla body wash has been rinsed, Gianna inevitably busts in to ask me to watch her imitate a piece of sushi…or something just as ridiculous.  And life returns to normal.  Just as it should.  And I face it clean, reenergized, and with a ready smile. 

Day 197 of The 365 Day Experiment. The Karma Kid.

I've received a bunch of side feedback from Day 196's "Trusting The Chute WIll Open."  Specifically, "Okay, seriously, what do you REALLY think?  You must be angry?  Sad?  Something? Come on, woman, WTF?  Be human, will you?!"

I was being completely honest and transparent when I said I was happy for my ex moving on with his life.  For one very specific reason: I believe in karma.

I tried to get pregnant with my first daughter for years.  I was told I would likely not be able to have children; most certainly not by "normal means." Crushing news, if you are a woman who really wants to have a child.  I am also a woman who does not give up or take no for an answer.  

I went about seeking the necessary medical help, but I also thought about karma.  When you are a woman who can't get pregnant, it seems like the entire population around you is having babies.  And rather than sit around thinking about what those women had and what I didn't, I chose to be happy for each and every one of them.  I told myself that that positive energy I gave off might somehow come back to me and my efforts to get pregnant.  It couldn't be forced, and it couldn't be fake.  I had to genuinely be joyful for these women.  And I was. And I am convinced it contributed to my success in getting pregnant.

I apply that same theory in this situation.  I choose to be happy for my ex-husband and his new fiancé because I spent many years being his cheerleader.  Just because we aren't married anymore doesn't mean I should stop being that for him.  He'll always be the father of my children, and this woman will be part of their lives.  Me embracing this situation makes everyone's life easier, most of all my children's.  And at the end of the day, they are who matter most.  So I send them positive wishes because I wish for their happiness, but also because I will want the same back when it is my turn to bring someone new into the family.

I believe we are the architects of our own fate.  It is up to us to chose bliss or misery. Our own version of heaven or hell.  Peace or chaos.  I have found that by trusting my gut, I choose that which leads me to the path of karma nearly every time.  I give what I hope to receive in return.  

And if I don't receive it...karma's a bitch. ;)

Day 196 of The 365 Day Experiment. Trusting The Chute Will Open.

The man I was married to for close to two decades is now engaged to another woman. This has been a big topic of conversation in my house since announced last week, as my daughters have many questions.  Candidly, I don’t have all the answers for them; they are his to answer.  I have one important one though.  Yes, I am happy for Daddy.  Truly.  He has found someone he loves, and they are forming a new life together.  And as someone I care about, I think that’s great.  

Which has left my kids with another pressing question.  ”Mom, when are you going to get remarried?”  That was met with some laughter on my part.

I’ve got to admit, that might be the absolute last thing on my to-do list right about now.  While the thought of a happy, healthy relationship is certainly appealing, I can’t even comprehend the thought I committing to something legally and forever right now.  But then I started thinking…why the hell are my girls probing me about this?

So I asked them.  And their answer was surprising. “When we go to college we don’t want you to be alone.”  Well, that happened.  After I was done being overwhelmed by their incredibly empathy and kindness, I thought about their words when I was alone in my bed that night.  

I had responded to them with the same reply I have since their dad and I split.  ”I don’t have the need to ever get married again.”  And I explained it to them because for me, marriage meant not just making a commitment to someone, but being with someone to build a family, have children, etc.  I had already done that.  I had them.  I had no need to recreate that dynamic.

I reexamined that response though.  While I certainly believe that explanation to be true, I fear there is more behind it.  If I avoid marriage it’s not just the legal stuff I’m avoiding.  I’m sure there is something to the notion that if I avoid the concept of marriage, I avoid the potential of getting hurt again.  And that’s messed up thinking.

I am fearless.  I am the girl who has dove head into the world of dating with reckless abandon.  I’m totally open to being with someone special, or so I have convinced myself.  But the reality of that - or at least a long term reality of that?  That is a scary prospect.  

I pride myself on being fearless.  When I find myself not living up to that expectation I set for myself, I face it head on.  Like clowns.  I loathe clowns.  I’ve got two vintage Italian posters hanging in my home.  They feature clowns.  I am forced to look at them everyday.  I still hate clowns, but these two guys don’t scare me anymore because  I found a creative way to deal with that which freaks me out .  A twisted approach, but it’s how I tackle my fears.  I own them.  And then I crush them so they don’t crush me.  

I have no idea if marriage will ever be in the cards for me in the future.  I still am not sure if I care about the piece of paper, or the need to be legal again.  Marriage or not, I now realize to ever allow myself to ever be in a fulfilling, loving, long-term relationship, I need to be able to jump out of the plane and trust my chute will open.  

There are no guarantees in life.  I hope to have the chance to jump at some point, and realize I may get hurt again.  And you know what? I’m sure it will be worth it.  In the immortal words of Lenny Kravitz, “Let Love Rule.”