Stop Reading and Start Working

Magda asks  from the backseat of the VW wagon, “What are you going to do while we’re at camp today Momma?”

I immediately respond, “Look for a job, sugar plum!”

Image borrowed from TriplePundit

“Are you going to work at Subway?” she suggests.

Caught off guard, I stammer, “Ah…um…no. I wasn’t thinking of working in fast food.

“Well, you like to serve us food,” she replies assuredly.

I smile and nod in agreement. Yes, that is part of my J.O.B. as a momma.

But then I drop the conversation. How do I explain to my 8-year old that I’m struggling to piece together a seemingly divergent work history in order to identify my ‘perfect job’?...

Fast forward a few weeks. Since that conversation, I’ve read and re-read books, watched videos, and completed countless exercises on finding fulfilling and meaningful work. Note to self: finding work is hard work.

What did I learn from all that pontificating?

Ironically, I found I shouldn’t be doing any more reading or thinking about finding work.

As Herminia Ibarra in Working Identity: Unconventional Strategies for Reinventing Your Career states, “By far, the biggest mistake people make when trying to change careers is to delay taking the first step until they have settled on a destination.”

Great. All that work and I've been barking up the wrong tree? Yes, and no.

For Ibarra, a work identity is not a hidden treasure to be excavated but a dynamic construct of many possibilities, many selves. Humans are improvisational creatures, each with ever-evolving skills, interests, passions, and subjectivities. For example, upon earning the Ph.D., I chose to work as an assistant professor. But after having babies, I wanted more time and flexibility to be with my children so I off-ramped academia to work alongside my husband in our construction business. My 'improvisations' not only changed over time, but continue to be shaped and reshaped by my education, experiences, relations, and societal expectations too.

Thanks to Attract A Life for image

While Ibarra's thesis makes intuitive sense, at least for me, culturally we remain are entrenched in the "what do you want to be when you grow up mindset." A singular work identity is a powerful elixir in the human experience, particularly for Americans. We use employment to categorize, to understand our place in the world, and to assign value. And we start young. Say little Jenny likes to put band-aids on her dolls. Viola! 'She's going to BE a nurse!', her parents announce with pride. So for someone like myself who has had the luxury of clearly defined worker identities, the ambiguity of an undefined self contributed to my confusion about what I wanted to BE next. If I’m not a professor, who am I? If I am not a business owner, who am I?

Clearly I was having trouble ditching the notion that my worker self should have a singular design in this life.

Then I happened across Sheryl Sandberg’s twist on the issue in her bestseller, Lean In. (Let's be real. I can never stop reading!) She writes, “As a child, I never thought about what I wanted to be, but I thought a lot about what I wanted to do.” Her reflection spoke to me, particular as a Montessori momma who encourages active engagement in her children. How do we learn what we want to do? By doing! By getting our hands dirty in different activities, by acting, now.

So dear daughter, back to your suggestion. Yes, I could work at Subway. I could make sandwiches. I could manage employees. I could recruit and train staff across the organization. I could study customer practices, which could be used for innovative marketing. I could work with corporate leaders to expand nutritional education initiatives or create partnerships to help feed hungry children across the globe. Or, I could simply ask Subway, “What is your biggest problem, and how can I solve it?”*

Most importantly, I could must stop thinking about the destination and act, now. 

*Question to Sheryl Sandberg by Lori Goler, former senior director of marketing at eBay, upon wanting to join the Facebook team.

Kids Just Want to Dance!

That I had to confirm I was 18 years of age or older in order to watch the video was clue number one.  LMFAO's video of the song, "Sexy and I Know It," has explicit content and requires parental control.

Ok, I'm over 18. Heck, I'm the parent! So I double-clicked, then watched and listened.

"I got passion in my pants and I ain't afraid to show it," repeats the refrain. "I pimp to the beat." "Ah, girl look at that body." And so forth. Wow, I think to myself, these lyrics ARE explicit. Then the camera zooms and my vision fills with wiggling penises. Seriously?! The more I watched the more confused I became.

Why is my 7-year old daughter singing LMFAO music and practicing the wiggle dance AT SCHOOL?

Imagery of Work

The kids and I sit on the living room floor searching old print magazines for their individual classroom assignments when Magda asks, “What do humans need to survive Momma?”

“Ah, water. Food. Hmm, why are you asking?” I mutter while flipping the pages of Mary Jane Farm scouring images for pigs, pies, or anything that begins with the letter, P –TT’s kindergarten class’s letter of the week.

Magda elaborates, “Miss Debra says we should bring in pictures of things humans need every day. I know we need water already Momma. But...here! Do we need cell phones?” she asks excitedly.

“Ah, no dear, we do not need cell phones to exist.” Surprised that she suggested a mobile is requisite for life on Earth, I add, “Grandpa Chuck doesn’t have a cell phone and he’s very much alive.” 'Though he might be the only person I know without one.' I think to myself.

“What about vegetables or fruit?” I suggest.

“Those are too easy Momma. Ah, TT! Here! I found a picture for you—a man in a suit—it’s a “Person”!” she announces enthusiastically while ripping the page from its glue.

He smiles and proceeds to cut the man, ah person, out with scissors.

“I got it! We need WORK! Here are TWO pictures of work Momma!”

A Mother's Work

Just when I thought drop-off couldn’t get worse, it did, today. This morning began with TT’s pleas for staying home from school, with a few doses of ‘my stomach’ hurts thrown in for good measure. The defiance continued when he wouldn’t put his shoes on, so I carried him to the car with shoes in hand.

The pleading even wore Magda down. She insisted that I "just" take TT to the Helix office with me today so no one would have to "listen to this whining" anymore.

A part of me was tempted to keep him by my side for the duration of the day. I’ve taken him to work with me many times prior. Heck, I thought, ‘What’s one day of ‘skipping school’ going to hurt?’

A lot, actually.

As novelist, Dorthy Canfield Fisher once said, “A mother is not a person to lean on, but a person to make leaning unnecessary.”

I was not going to help him by being a conspirator in truancy.

Montessori Spindles--thanks to 54Mama for the pic!

Instead, I need to help him by inspiring a love of learning, and letting him experience the resultant feelings of achievement that come from doing good work.

And he is poised to do just so at the Montessori both of our kids attend. Maybe if I told TT that the inventor of “The Sims” videogame, Will Wright, was not only Montessori taught, he attributes his success to the Montessori method. (TT does not know of The Sims game; Sonic is his game of choice) Heck, the mere discussion around gaming designers might peak his interest in school again.

To be sure, TT displays more electronic prowess than I have ever had in all my years of computer work combined. And part of that prowess comes simply from exploring buttons or tabs that I would never double click for fear of the unknown. He has no fear of trying and retrying and retrying again on a computer, DSI, or Wii. He simply figures out the solution through trial and error. He acts. He creates. He innovates. When he’s plugged in. And when he’s assembling or “upgrading” his Beyblades. Or when he’s doing origami.

Hmm, as I write this post, I realize that my son IS learning to love learning, more so of course when he’s interested in the subject matter. But, in saying so, the quandary of ‘school refusal’ remains...

Parenting as a Cliff Hanger

Sunset Cliffs, Ocean Beach, CA

Cliffs can be scary. We are vulnerable at the edge. All senses are heightened. We can hear our crying echo. We can feel the weightlessness below. And the drop may seem endless—with no branches, grass, or parachutes to catch our seemingly inevitable fall. 

I need to talk my son off his metaphorical cliff—a newly developed fear of school. 

Start-Up Children

Magda, my 6 year old daughter, posted signs in the front window of our home. The construction paper marked with Crayola colors read: "AЯt for Sale $7".  She had asked her Daddy and I to hold a garage sale and when we begged off that option, she created her own! With a little paper, crayons, and an amass of scotch tape, her entrepreneurial spirit was born.

Work Space

Finally! I got a gig! Ok, it's a small gig blogging for my awesome friends over at Extanz. And one blog a week hardly translates into retiring from Helix, BUT it's a small, meaningful (!) step toward uniting my interests and forging a new work path. Got to start somewhere...

Making Parents Proud

I flew back to Pittsburgh last week to surprise my father for his 90th birthday. As hoped, he answered his apartment door with shock and gratitude. Together with my sister who drove up from D.C. and Dad's "girlfriend", Angie, we celebrated the hallmark with steaks, the proverbial candle and reminiscent stories. Dad asked about the kids, I shared my Shutterfly photo album, and we all agreed that children grow too fast. (Was he thinking that of me?)

Entrepreneurial couple or supportive wife?

So I asked some female friends, "Would YOU work with your husband?"

Unequivocally they answered, "No! I could never do it."

"Why not?"

The answers varied from 'we have different communication styles' to 'I don't want to have to answer to my husband' to the simplest, 'I don't want a divorce.'

What's the motive behind my pseudo-interviews? Confirmation that I'm not crazy. Confirmation that working with MY husband is HARD work. Confirmation that we're not the only husband-wife business co-owners with conflict, at work and at home. But the confirmations weren't enough.

Being the post-academic I am, I sought literature too, to help "explain" what I've already learned but haven't been able to articulate. Amazon.com offered up Kathy Marshack's Entrepreneurial Couples, a book about "making it work at work and at home". Intrigued, I hit the Prime, Two-day 1-click button and awaited some insight.

While not a huge fan of self-help books--self-assessments and checklists are littered throughout the text, I must shows that intimate partners, particularly with children, struggle to balance (meaningful) work, family life, and marriage. While this may seem a no-brainer, the specific challenges for copreneurs are different from, say, dual-career partners. Starting, maintaining, & growing a start-up is no easy task and the stresses often exceed that of traditional employer-employee relationships. For example, the risk of immersing the family's entire financial livelihood into a start-up can create insomnia in the best of us. In fact, the whole endeavor can be a recipe for disaster, or delight. The jury is leaning toward the former in our case.

Two years ago, Pat had been working as a sales rep for a software company when a long-time mentor introduced him to the property preservation industry. I believe he saw this as an opportunity to earn more money and overall fulfill the American dream of the self-made man. He started taking “orders” from the mentor’s son’s company and within months, built and claimed the Colorado market for himself. In fact, business took off so quickly that he quit his job in software sales, and requested my help to manage the volume. After all “Nikki, you’re not making any money, you’re dissatisfied with academe, and you’re not going to make tenure.” Given I couldn't argue with any of his claims, I quit my tenure track job and began to “help” Pat. Quickly, Pat and the mentor’s son argued over money and went their separate ways. Pat asked if I wanted to become his business partner (with me taking 51% ownership so as to take advantage of a woman-owned business status--which to date we never have). I agreed and we incorporated Helix.

In those early days, Pat and I shared high hopes that I’d draw upon my academic skills and contribute to Helix by researching and writing about the industry, and working with higher-level stakeholders to define and address the problems within the industry (there are many). But we quickly learned that running a small business demands all your waking hours and energies and resources, and within record time, the small business was running us. Recruitment, training, payroll, tax planning, paper processing, sub-contractor (subs) management, and other host of other daily tasks supplanted any lofty aspirations of industry reform. And those tasks quickly became divided along stereotypical gender lines. Pat worked “in the field” and managed subs, while I became the primary paper processor and bid writer.

Fast-forward to today, Pat and I continue to argue over when, how, and or if I'll contribute to Helix. And from Marshack’s categorization of entrepreneurial types, I can begin to see where some of the conflict is arising. Given her criteria, I’d surmise that we’re the “solo entrepreneur with a supportive spouse” type. We aren’t “dual entrepreneurs” who each have their own venture, and given our history and division of labor, we aren’t truly “copreneurs”. Instead, the whole endeavor fell in Pat’s lap, and I came on board to help. And, at the end of the day, I’m probably too competitive to be anyone’s helper, even (or especially?) my adoring husband’s.

Where to go from here? I don’t want a divorce either, so I guess I better start reading Chapter 2 now…

Back to Work (?)

Summer vacation is officially over. The kids have been back to school for a week now. The morning air carries that old, familiar chill of autumn. And my husband has requested my presence back at work. Really? I thought I was finally “out”…

This past May, I called a meeting with Pat and our HR/organizational consultant, Courtney. I asked that she attend so there would be a 3rd party to mediate. (Working with your spouse is not always easy, and we had been less than discreet with our conflict in the office. In fact, our "disagreements" had reached an all-time high (low?). Our employees were suffering and our marriage was teetering as a consequence.) I needed to share how very frustrated I was with our business and its impact on our marriage, my self, and our family. Because all my earlier attempts to phase out of the business were unsuccessful (I’d tried over 6 different times to “leave” in the past 2 years), I was willing to pull the ultimate card—our business or our marriage. And while I didn’t want to leave Pat in a bind, I was simply at my breaking point.

The three of us sat outside on the local Panera’s patio. I began, "Look, I love you but I don't love the business. I have not contributed in ways we originally hoped for, and worse, my daily activities are unforgiving. I can't handle one more inane client phone call asking why I don't have a dump receipt to prove our sub removed a gas can from a property. I can't handle responding to one more insulting client demand to lower our bid prices--it's a BID for a reason, and no, our sub is not working for free!" Pat starts to interject with the specifics of some ridiculous work order when Courtney says, "Stop. Look at Nikki. She's literally curled her body into a knot as you were talking. Nikki?"

Holding my legs to my chest, I say with a finality that brings calm, "I'm done, for now. I choose Pat, not property preservation. For now, at least. I hope you understand."

So, with the present request to return to the office--to act as an office manager, help train new employees and subs, develop performance plans, to “make the employees more productive and efficient”—I’m faced with the "what have you accomplished in this time off anyway?" While I needed to recover from the stress and disappointment of property preservation, and wanted to redefine how I’m to contribute to the world and model for my children how good work can inspire and create and reform, the reality that my “vacation” has not necessary birthed any new ideas, routines, or income stands likes an insurmountable brick wall. 'Am I working outside of the home or Helix?' No. 'Am I regularly blogging?' No. 'Are you bringing any income to the household?' No.

“What the hell do you do all day?” Ok, Pat didn’t explicitly ask it, but the enthymeme feels like the elephant sitting in the living room. Perhaps it's my guilt, guilt derived from living in and coming from a family that considers work a necessary evil, not an (indulgent) fulfilling of one's passion.

As my sister, Cindy, says, "Helix is your family's livelihood. You can't quit because you don't enjoy it. Who the hell enjoys their work? That's why it's called, WORK!"

As my father says, "You job is to support your husband however you can. You have children counting on you."

As Pat says, "Your absence has caused great financial strain. You did the work of 3 processors, and now we have to pay those processors to take your place. That's a loss of income for our household."

Alas, competing paradigms of work are at work. On the one hand, Pat and I own a business that supports many households other than our own; people rely on us to feed their families. I did commit to Helix when I signed the Inc. papers. I implicitly ask my husband to own the lion’s share of responsibilities and bullshit each day I forgo the office. Bills do not get paid on their own…So I need to pull my share, lace up the ole’ bootstraps, and get my hands dirty, again. Get back to work!

On the other hand, I see how the trappings of middle class demand that we work harder at work that we don’t necessarily enjoy. (That I both enjoy and despise these indulgences does not help.) I see that our business is really not our business and in fact our clients’ demands shape how we work in ways that are simply not always humane. I don’t want to be part of the problem anymore; I want to be part of the solution.

Betwixt and between worlds of work…

The Power of One

While someone once said there’s comfort in numbers, I don’t think they were talking about careers. In fact, from the perspective of a 4-year old, I’d surmise that there is comfort in the opposite—the power of one, career.

This past Saturday, the kids and I were walking through the Denver zoo with our family friend, CB, and her 4-year old son, Ben. The boys began scouring one of the habitats for a baby zebra when Ben announced he wanted to be a zookeeper when he grew up. CB asked my son, TT, also 4, what he wanted to be. No surprise, “I want to be a zookeeper too!” he proudly proclaimed. Of course, I had never heard him utter this desire once prior.

As we pushed our way through the encroaching 100degree mark, and our pace began to slow as a consequence, I noticed all the messaging aimed at our children. From hats to pins to plastic tumblers, for a price, any child could be walking around the park as a “junior zookeeper.” Since TT himself can’t read yet, nor, I assume, most of the preschool crowd wandering the exhibits, I deduced that it’s not parents purchasing mere souvenirs, but caregivers actually buying a career aspiration for their kids . “Here Bobby Sue, you’re now a ‘junior zookeeper in training’!”

And she grins with her newfound “job,” and hat or pin or plastic tumbler.

TT didn’t get a souvenir that day, or at least not the “junior zookeeper” type. And in fact, his “I want to be a zookeeper” mantra quickly changed Sunday to “Momma, can I be a truck driver when I grown up?” as he watched 18-wheelers roll down the freeway on our drive to Costco. Ah, recency theory at work.

While I understand the power of immediacy for a 4-year old, I didn’t see any crossover in TT’s thinking. For example, he could be a zookeeper that drives animals from habitat to habitat, or trucks to natural lands to find or save endangered breeds. But these options were as remote as the lost sock in the laundry. And given the proverbial, cultural questions of “what are you going to be when you grow up?” to “what do you do?”, it should come as no surprise that children and adults alike struggle to define their work.

While I’ve worn many hats over the years, from waitress to student to professor, at any given time, I had some “thing” work-wise to call my own. When asked the question ‘what do you do?,’ I could always answer, and I always answered in the singular. “I’m an Assistant Professor.” “I’m a Business Owner.” I have never said, “I’m a wannabe writer, a wife, a business owner, a mother of 2 young children, a dabbler in art and design, and a scourer of estate sales.” In fact, now that I am all those things and no longer have a “work path,” I have avoided all situations where I’d have to answer the proverbial, “What do you do?” question. Truth be told, being without a designated career path is a bit like being Waldo in the zebra habitat at the zoo. Disconcerting.

So how do I encourage a hybrid career to my young children when I too struggle over the absence of the self-possession of a defined career, income, job title, or otherwise, meaningful work outside the home? Or when I yearn, just like my son, for the singular “I want to be an X”?

Learning labor

My son (nickname, “TT”) grabbed hold of his marigold yellow FAO Schwarz toolbox, crawled under the dining table, and while extracting the well-worn wrench proclaimed, “Don’t bother me Momma! I’m working!”

No, the table was not in need of repair. TT was simply in need of an identity—a way to fit into the grown-up world of (male) work. After all, for almost a year, he’d return from preschool only to learn that his Daddy was out “working on a stinky house” and wouldn’t be home until past his bedtime. From his mind’s eye, he saw:

1. Daddy WENT to work (outside of the home).
2. Daddy physically LABORED at work (strength over mind).
3. Daddy used TOOLS at work (machinery manipulated to complete a task).
4. Daddy didn’t LIKE work (‘I HAVE to go work on STINKY houses).
5. And when Daddy was at home, he was STILL working! (Talking to sub-contractors on the phone, completing our own home repairs, etc.)

TT’s Aristotelian view of work as toil came not just from his Dad, but what he picked up at preschool too.

Ever eavesdrop on parent-child drop-off exchanges at daycare? You know, ‘don’t cry baby. Mommy has to leave for work or she’ll be late. But, you’ll have fun. More fun than me! I promise!’ Or, ‘Daddy doesn’t want to go to work either, but I have to go now.’ Hmm...I'm guilty!

How about those preschool career books lying around—ever flipped through the big bold print? You know the books that plant the quickly rooted (American) question ‘what do you want to be when you grow up?” and offer few answers to that very question with a quick portrayal of traditional, sex-typed occupations. ‘Meet Dave. He’s a Doctor. Meet Jane. She’s a Nurse.’ Where are the social media consultants, entrepreneurs, or non-profit leaders???

It’s no wonder that our daughter, Magda, is worried that she might only get to be 1 thing when she grows up! She’s being asked to choose A work identity, now, at age 5!

While Daddy no longer works “in the field” and instead “goes to the office” Monday through Friday (the topic of another post), our son’s developing concept of work continues to gravitate toward that which he can see, manipulate or produce. Waving a hammer holds much more weight for him than sitting in front of the computer, though he enjoys the latter much more than the former...

And so it begins...

On the way to summer kinder camp this morning, my 5-year old daughter asks me, “Mommy, can I be more than one thing when I grow up?”

“Of course!” I say, enchanted that she’s thinking beyond the traditional preschool lecture on work. You know, the ‘ I want to be a teacher when I grow up.’ (Please, teachers take no offense; I was one myself awhile back.)

“I can be 10-things?” she pursues.

“Yep,” I nod, searching for a kid friendly tune on the radio.

Then quiet, though I’m guessing that the conversation is not over. If I listen closely enough, I can hear the wheels churning (and not the car wheels). A “but…” is rising in her consciousness.

“So how can I be 10-things mama when you’re only 1 thing?”

Oh no. I don’t want to ask. I ask anyway, “What one thing am I?”

“You’re just a Mommy,” she declares.

And just then the radio stops on, ‘Life is a highway. I want to drive it all night long…’ My 4-year old son shouts, “Turn it up Mommy!” and I realize that the teaching moment is lost to Lightening McQueen’s theme song.

So I proceed to sing aloud with the giggles from the backseat on our way to summer kinder camp all the while asking the questions that urged me to finally dive into the mommy blog universe. Because I know I am not the only woman to ask how the hell her 42 years of work experiences and pursuits distill into one singular identity of mother? Is this my fault? In my efforts to be a “good mother” have I forgotten to show them other aspects of “me” or “work”? Is this a wake up call to start? Then again, what meaningful work other than mothering do I want to model?

The pursuit begins. Momma needs work.