Vision Boards With Kids

Welcome to 2016, all! How’s it going for everyone? I’ve been making the rounds with talks and trainings about New Year’s Resolutions, why they don’t work and how to create meaningful change in 2016. I was happy to see people were pumped to tap into their strengths and use tools like visualization to help them achieve their goals this year.

As part of my 2016 planning process (which is still evolving in February because that’s how I roll), I decided to create a Vision Board.  You may have heard about Vision Boards from books and movies about “The Law of Attraction” like “The Secret.”

For those who haven’t heard of the concept, the basic idea is that you cut out images and words that can help you visualize things you want in various areas of your life like health, family, relationships, spirituality, home, fun and career. You arrange all of your stickers and cutouts on paper or poster board and you hang it in a place where you’ll be able to view it often. You can spend time looking at it daily or several times a week and not only think about those things on the board, but feel the feelings you would have if you had those things in your life. The feelings are critical! The hypothesis is that by thinking about and visualizing those things, you will attract more of them into your life. 

I haven’t created a collage since my teenage years when I regularly cut out my celebrity crushes and assembled them on prominent poster boards in my room—hey it was the suburbs and I didn’t play sports—so I had plenty of quality creative time.

Channeling back to those teenage creative days, I was pretty excited about the project. I decided to get my daughters involved and treat it as a creative craft time with their coachy but fairly un-crafty mom. I figured this would be a no-brainer for my 7.5 year old, but may be a stretch for the 4.5 year old. I bought some beautiful scrapbooking materials and stickers to enhance our magazine cutouts. I’d recently Marie Kondo’d the apartment so it was slim pickings as far as magazines go. We were able to borrow some catalogues and mags from my Aunt Marilyn who jumped in to help us (I mentioned I was un-crafty, right?).

Before laying out the materials, I asked the girls to close their eyes, take a deep breath and answer these questions in their minds:

What do you want for your life?

What do you want to do for fun?

What do you want to be when you grow up?

What do you want to learn?

Where do you want to live?

Where do you want to visit?

What do you want to do with your friends?

What do you want to do with your family?

Then, I asked them to open their eyes and either write or tell us what they pictured.

After writing a few things down, I presented all of the materials and explained that we can now find pictures and words to put on our paper either from what we wrote down or from other images that inspire us along the way.

I could see my older daughter, Jane, starting to sweat. “I don’t understand. I don’t get it.” She said. She was starting to cry.

Of course, I’m thinking, this is supposed to be fun bonding time. I don’t want to stress her out! “I’m really blowing this whole craft project thing!” I tried explaining it three other times and we seemed to be in the same state of panic. Finally, I backed off and said, “Why don’t you watch me and maybe you’ll want to do it then.”

I started to create: sparkly letters, affirmation stickers, bright photos of Costa Rica, runners, healthy foods, peaceful flowers and grass…I was on a roll and loving it!

Jane quickly got it and started off on her own board with gymnasts, ice skaters, berries and nail polish. Brilliant. Later it clicked that Jane is a visual learner and I may have hit the ground running if I brought a sample board with me. Lesson learned!

Meanwhile, my 4.5 year old, Roxanne is a fairly abstract thinker and she got the project immediately. “I love mangos so I want to put a picture of a mango. I want to be a vet and I want to go to Africa and play in a treehouse!”

We all got into a creative flow and had a blast once we got the assignment. Jane even commented, “Mom, you’re really into this!” And she was right.

The girls were beaming with pride over their boards, hanging them in their rooms and showing everyone who comes into our home.

Mine is in the home office where I can spend some daily QT with it. I left some space for a few more pictures to be added over the year, but overall, I’m pleased with this visual reminder of the life I’m choosing every day.

Our Meltdowns, Our Teachers

If you’ve ever had that morning when your two year old clearly knows you have a 9 am meeting so she decides to throw a fit when you leave and your babysitter pries her out of your arms and you make it to the subway, to the office, coffee in hand with one minute to spare. Then you have that sinking feeling when you arrive and the conference room is empty and you check your calendar again and realize—the meeting was actually at the agency’s office across town. (Cue Meltdown)

How about when you’re running in to pump in your boss’s glass office that you’ve covered with poster board from floor to ceiling. You have 30 minutes until your next meeting. You race to get undressed and strapped into the torture device (I mean, pump) and realize you’re missing one essential part. (Melt. Down.)

Or you hear the date of the final class trip you promised you would chaperone and it turns out, you’re scheduled to present to the CMO. You break the news to your irate daughter and all of a sudden Kindergarten is locked down in infamy, as “the year mommy didn’t go on any trips.” (Ready, set, meltdown)

In these moments, my gut instinct used to be berating myself about doing a shitty job at this whole balancing act. And asking, “How is this ever going to work? How do other people do this? Where’s the ice cream?” I was left confused and paralyzed…with a nasty sugar hangover.

I’m a Type A at heart, so I don’t expect these meltdowns to go away completely, but in the past two years, I’ve been able to consciously shift the way I handle these moments. I may always be pushing the boundaries of time and my finite amount of energy, but I’ve started respecting these red flags and using them as reminders that I don’t have to live like this all the time.

When I work with clients who are dealing with this same struggle, that feeling that they’re “not doing any of it well”—I teach them the approach I use to get back on track. 

It goes like this...

1. Cheer up your best friend, you:
   Instead of dragging yourself through the mud (you know how that feels), try acknowledging how much you’re pulling off. Believe me, your husband, your boss and your kids are not going to see it, if you can’t see it yourself.  Find what works for you, but I’ve written a little speech that I like. 
   
   You’re doing/juggling/pulling off a ton right now and you’re doing most of it really well.
   You’re not a robot. (Sometimes it helps to say this 2x.)
   It’s not going to all work perfectly and that’s ok.
   Perfect is boring and people love you because you’re weird…in a good way!
   You got this.  
    
2. Create a buffer:
   You’re doing too much. You need to clear the decks and add more space into your life. What are you doing that your husband or other family members can do? What can your children do for themselves? One of the best days of my life was when my 7 year old started showering on her own.  Are you a laundry addict? Try going from 3 times a week to 2, or blasphemy…1.
    
3. Write, re-write or pull out your priority list:
   Back when I was single and dating, somebody quite wise told me to write a list of 4 to 5 things I wanted in my ideal guy and to keep that list in my wallet. I thought it was ridiculous at the time, but I was open to trying something new. I did it and my list went like this: Smart, Funny, Doting, Handsome, Creative. Anytime I started dating someone, I would run him past the list to make sure he had everything on it. And most of the time, he didn’t. Until, finally, he did…and I married him.
   
   Now, I want you to do the same thing with the high level things you want in your life. It’s not a detailed life plan, but it’s a quick barometer that can let you know when you’re out of balance.  Here’s mine: Peace, Courage, Connection, Inspiration, Fun. When I’m doing too much, I run some of the things I’m doing by this list and it helps me filter out the tasks that aren’t bringing me there.
    
4. Add something you love back into your life:
   As moms, our creative outlets and our joy often come last on the list of daily agenda items. How’s that approach working for you? Instead, choose something you truly love and do it for an hour a week. If an hour seems like too long, start with 15 minutes. It doesn’t need to be something you’re good at, something you’ll make money doing or something you share with anyone. It simply must be something you love. Something only for you. You deserve it. Refer back to number 1 to remind yourself of all that you’re doing! Not only is it your treat, but the creative fuel will give you the mojo to charge through the rest of the items on your list like a boss.

Now of course, if you’re motivated, you can kick this process into gear without having a meltdown moment. But the next time you (hypothetically) almost miss your client session because the Keyfood delivery is two hours late due to a hurricane that never happened, just know that there’s a way to bring yourself out of the depths and back into a world where you can be your imperfect and authentic self. 

Unraveling My Class Parent Flavored Mommy Guilt

Last week I went to my sixth and final preschool “Meet the Teachers” evening. All the preschool bases were covered—emergent curriculum, the not-so-subtle helicopter parent warnings, show and tell of the sweet art that will be sent home (95% of which will end up in the trash under crumpled paper towels when nobody’s looking) and then it happened. The moment I’ve dreaded for six years running. The Class Parent Solicitation.

Since I’ve done this a few times, I could basically lip-synch the speech. “It’s not that much time. Just a few emails. The more parents who sign up, the less work it is.” And then, in slow motion the public humiliation began. The sign up sheet was passed from one parent to the next until it made it’s way around the room. As it came closer, I felt the room heat up a few degrees, the sweat dripped off my temples and the excuses bubbled up to the surface.

On the menu this year: “I can’t, I’m building a business!”
Last year: “Forget it, I’m running the marathon.”
The year before that: “We're moving.”
Before that: “I have an infant.”
Finally: “I’m pregnant.”

While these are all valid excuses, it doesn’t take a genius (or a coach) to figure out—“Hold up, something’s telling me, I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS!” And I feel like I should—but why?  If I tell myself it’s for the kids, the truth is—that they have no clue what a class parent does. They don’t see the emails back and forth about teacher gifts and every last school fundraiser.

For me—and I’m guessing a few others out there—it’s about my own guilt and what others might think.

Bypassing my inner conflict, I also handed the sign up sheet, unchanged along to the parent next to me, but that moment stayed with me for the rest of the evening. 

At first I calmed myself by saying, maybe next year (lie) but then I thought,

What would my connection to my kids’ education look like if I was NEVER a class parent?

What’s a way to get involved that feels (dare I say) fun and not like a chore?

As a wave of relief ran through me, I was flooded with ideas:

• More class trips (in my favorite city)
• Singing in class with the kids—which I love!
• Career Day (hello 26 seven year old Coaches unleashed on their respective worlds!)
• Dramatic readings of my favorite (age-appropriate) Judy Blume books

Yes. This all feels more like me and less like who I think others think I should be (especially when they’re probably not even thinking that).

And while my list resonates with me, I’m quite grateful for all of you parents out there who look at it and would actually prefer the administrative Class Parent role. I know you’re out there. I’ve talked to some of you and I hope our kids will be in the same class one day.

I know I'll get an Amen when I say--we’re all busy. We’re all doing our best. When you feel that guilt creep in, challenge it. Question it. What do you really want here? You may be able to find your way through it, get what you want and still get the chance to read “Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing” a second or even a third time. 
 

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Setting A Clear Intention

An armadillo prepares for his northbound road trip

Last weekend my husband, J, and I went off to Florida without the kids to help organize and pack up my grandmother’s home. Grandma passed away in July, but my family members are the proactive types so the place was already looking pretty clutter-free. Marie Kondo or her disciples had been there, and I started our visit grateful that we weren’t walking into a hoarding situation.

That said, there was still much to be done. We had to photograph everything, figure out what each family member wanted, pour over file and photo boxes, clear out the epic pantry (that was always stocked with Oreos, peanut butter, Dove chocolates and anything else that could make a grey day sugary sweet)—and most importantly make the tough decisions about the armadillo, the elephants, the hippos and the porcelain seal pup (who is still up for grabs if there are any seal pup fanatics out there).

J and I formulated a plan of attack (and as my sister pointed out—that’s one of our favorite activities!), but before we got started in tactical mode, I took some time to reflect over my morning coffee. I set a clear intention for the trip. Being home now a few days, I’m certain this is why I feel so good about our work and what we accomplished.

My intention: be a partner, a helper, a facilitator, bring the wit and be the person to truly be there for my aunt and uncle who took the lead in my grandma’s care for so long. I wanted to relieve the pressure. Clear the path. Create healing space for our entire family.

As we moved through the weekend and I questioned a decision or our next move, I used my intention as my filter. What would my next step be if I were a partner, a helper, a facilitator or brought the wit to this situation? My intention enabled me to move through whatever was holding me back in that moment. Sometimes the solution was to spend that extra time taking photos out of frames so that dozens of extra boxes did not turn up at a family member’s door. And sometimes it was perfectly placing the armadillo in a spot that would be met with surprise (maybe even shock and horror) upon receipt. Whatever it was—I felt I had a compass guiding me through a difficult task, that my north was a destination of pride at all we could do in a few days and our reward was hearing my aunt and uncle's laughter over dinner at my grandma’s favorite Jewish deli.

When I think about the weekend now, I smile remembering my sister and my aunts and uncles who will soon receive deliveries of 70 year old photos of my grandfather in uniform, the smart and love-sick letters he wrote to grandma dated one day apart, the Barbara Streisand anthology and of course the armadillo, stepping into the role of exclamation point for a plan well executed.

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Get in touch for an hour-long Strategy Session if you're ready to ditch the guilt and overwhelm, discover your confidence and create a life with meaning.