Recently I’ve been thinking about the many proverbial plates that I’ve knowingly let crash to the ground as I simply can’t keep them spinning anymore. To be sure, Dave & I are running on a time deficit everyday; there is far more that we want to do – or even should do – than time allows in this life stage, so many tasks don’t make the cut.
That said, and for a plane that’s being built as we fly it, we do seem to have a good gliding pattern.
With that in mind, I’ve come to appreciate the kind of shorthand, or even unspoken arrangements in place, that makes it a lot easier to predict, manage, and optimize as a duo. Key word: unspoken, as in, we have never explicitly addressed these things.
A few examples:
- Things we own separately:
Dave is the only one who uses our carpet steam cleaner on messes, who holds the baby during meals so I can eat while my food is hot, who makes runs to the post office regardless of whose return it is.
I am the only one who changes the lint trap, makes our bed, and initiates our garage spring and fall clean-ups. - Things we tag team:
I retrieve a new roll of toilet paper so we never run out; Dave actually mounts the new roll on the holder vs leaving it forever propped on top as I would.
Dave goes room-by-room to rouse the boys for breakfast in the morning if they’ve overslept; I then go room-by-room to open shades and turn off fans so the house doesn’t still feel sleepy.
I purchase & light enormous volumes of scented candles; Dave pretends to appreciate that I found new fragrances for the season… every season.
I periodically purge the toy collection; Dave runs it up to a donation center.
I organize, store, and swap out all the boys’ clothes by size and season; Dave doesn’t complain when I’m delinquent and our almost-7-year-old’s jeans look like he’s wearing floods because he’s clearly in a growth spurt and still wearing jeans that fit when he was 5 and did I mention I’m letting more plates crash lately? - Things we do simultaneously:
Never allow dry-clean or hand-wash-only clothing of any kind into our home.
What are your unspoken arrangements?
this is saturday
post cousin slumber party:
toddler hangover.
Last night, I attended an industry event honoring one of my clients. It was energizing in a way I never thought I’d describe a night spent away from my family, with competitive platform reps, banquet chicken, and cash bars. But the live speeches! Standing ovations! Small talk and lingering goodbyes! I was in my professional happy place.
And then the icing on the cake: the honoree gave career advice that was so thought-provoking that I paused to physically take note.
She told the story of her winding career following an impromptu move to the bay area, applying to a job that she knew nothing about other than it “sounded like a good fit for a creative,” being rejected and then bumped by HR to a different role that sounded “pretty cool, too” to her 22 year old self, and then an illustrious career with long stints in the employment of a handful of globally-recognized brand names. She never chased a specific role or level or scope, but nevertheless accrued an amazing reputation (see: ballroom filled with adoring fans) for her work, her working style, and her impact in the community. She explained some of this by following her passions while remaining authentic to herself, but also by tapping directly into the people around her with the following questions:
- What do you come to me for?
- When have you seen me happiest?
- What am I better at than my peers?
As someone who is a firm believer in the Strengths Finder philosophy, I found this suggestion useful, actionable, and very likely to yield illuminating results. Rather than feel that you need to all of the introspection alone, you can lean on the perspectives of people who can vouch more objectively for how you actually show up in terms of performance and strengths.
So there you have it. A new perspective on how to scope my next career moves, and the realization that I grossly underestimated the cost of a cash bar in a big city. Not bad for life lessons on a Thursday night.
Scientists begin research on a newly documented pediatric medical condition. Ailment is triggered by environmental shift — namely to the parent’s bed in the early morning hours.
Observable symptoms:
Child exhibits gravitational pull towards parent’s body, and then seems to spontaneously generate at least 8 additional elbows and knees which are used as unconscious weapons of assault.
While not thought to cause permanent damage to the child, there are strong early indicators that the resulting poor night’s sleep is indeed contagious to adults.
- But really, there’s a market for this.
- The Mysterious Origins of the Phrase ‘The Whole Nine Yards.’ Spoiler: an unsatisfying ending.
- My daily abbreviation count has increased exponentially since being back at work: “sg,” “ty,” “iirc,” “wrt,” “afaik,” “lmk,” “wdyt,” & on & on… I joked with a colleague that my pings were becoming almost unintelligible unless you were fluent in corp-speak. He sent me this.
- I am so glad to know I’m not the only one who has felt this:
Dave and I caught up with a couple of old friends this weekend. As we recounted our most salient experiences during the pandemic, my friend confessed she and her husband were really aggravating each other in the beginning. Thrust as many of us were into suddenly being around our significant others non-stop, they each cited a number of pet peeves that became unavoidably omnipresent: she left water cups on every surface of the house, his typing was unforgivably loud.
As they realized their communication was reduced to not much beyond nagging and irritating each other, they came up with an idea: they would jointly blame Chad, their new imaginary roommate who was the real culprit of all of these recurring offenses. It wasn’t her, but Chad who couldn’t keep track of just 1 water cup. And they’d be fine to work in close proximity if not for Chad’s obnoxiously loud typing habits. Suddenly they were on the same page — and laughing about it.
Not only is this brilliant marital advice, but it’s also a bit of a relief. After all, I have long felt guilty that I have a large box of maternity clothes — which I no longer wear or need — taking up valuable floor space in our bedroom, but it turns out it was Chad’s fault all along.
With parenting, and with overtly limited time resources these days, I think a lot about the concept of choosing my battles. Apart from basic functions like a consistent bedtime and good nutrition, and more to the point: when should I be pushing my kids towards their “potential,” and when should I recognize that they are who they are — innately, and already — and to materially push against that is to squander my time with them? All of this in the context of wanting to give my children the strongest springboard from which they can launch their life’s trajectory and find fulfillment and happiness relative to their individual goals… suffice it to say, the stakes feel high.
There is a Freakonomics episode called “The Economist’s Guide to Parenting: 10 Years Later.” It’s a follow up to an interview of — you guessed it — economists who weighed in with their approaches to parenting 10 years prior. The podcast culminates in a nature and nurture discussion:
“How powerful are the hereditary forces of nature vs the many factors that constitute nurture? And how do nature & nurture blend in a given person? It’s plainly not a simple thing to sort out. Just think about schooling: the older a kid gets, the more time they spend outside the home, with their peers. There’s some evidence that peer influence can be very powerful. That said, parents are the ones who choose the school they attend and – to a lesser degree – what kind of peers their kids will spend time with.”
I think about my experiences with my own siblings — the people I have the longest-standing observational history with. (NB: another fascinating read about the only people who know you “from cradle to grave”: The Sibling Effect by Jeffrey Kluger.) I look back at childhood memories and consistently think, “isn’t it funny; so-and-so has always been that way,” and “they still are.”
One of my brothers, for instance, has always been curious, even-keeled, and self-assured. He was the kid who taught himself Cat’s Cradle, and complex Origami designs, and Rubik’s Cube algorithms until he qualified to compete at the World Championship (yes, there is such a thing). He had his strong springboard into adulthood as a University of Michigan graduate, but it took him several years to figure out what he actually wanted to pursue after graduation nevertheless. In those years, he was guided by his curiosity, pursued a handful of different passions, and evinced a great deal of patience with himself until he broke into the computer programming world and kicked off his (now successful) career. I have to wonder how my parents – watching their intelligent, talented, college-educated son move home and wait tables at Outback Steakhouse for an extended period – balanced their desire to force him to channel his untapped potential with recognition of his lifelong style of methodical pursuit of his interests that cannot be rushed.
His story is only one of the five of us, but it gives me the sense that the macro view of how each of us turned out was almost a foregone conclusion, albeit perhaps in slightly different settings.
As one of the economists resolves: “the main punchline of this work is, yes, that nurture is greatly overrated.” Then again, another reflects, “who cares? You do the best you got with what you got. So if it’s 80% nature, it still leaves me with 20%. If it’s 20% nature, it leaves me with 80%. Either way, I want to get that part of the puzzle right.”
I suspect that, when the boys are grown, I will look back on these childhood years, see their behavioral and personality trends, and recognize how futile some of the battles I fought were in light of that. For better or worse, however, this suspicion is not markedly useful in the day-to-day moments when I debate digging in or letting go of a contentious topic.
Earlier this week, a colleague of mine shared an observation from his grandmother. She told him: “you will spend more time with your children as your friends than you will raising them.” This time of life with such small children feels high stakes, but it is limited. When I picture my future self sitting around the dinner table with my adult sons and simply enjoying their company, I do admit it takes a little bit of the pressure off of today.
4 boys, 4 anecdotes that perfectly describe their respective dominant personality traits. See if you can guess who is who: J, O, A, or C.
1: this bro innately prefers all things off-brand: Donald over Mickey, Luigi over Mario, even secondary colors like green over primary blue.
2: this bro is the “domino that won’t fall” according to his teachers. When the entirety of his class successively wakes from nap-time cranky or crying, he is – without fail – smiley and content.
3: this bro is a living study in developmental conflicts between impulse, logic, and responsibility. Immediately following losing his temper with a friend, he will be receptive to conversations around empathy for his friend, and then – completely of his own volition – run over to said friend’s house to apologize in person for his actions.
4: this bro comes home with the following note from his teacher — after a class assignment that would have been counted complete if all he had done was simply scribble a few lines using the crayon of his choice.
Answers: (1) O (2) C (3) J (4) A (of course).
