CurrentMom

Headed for a Government Furlough? The Other "F" Word

Work Wednesday

Most of the topics I take on in this blog are about working. This one isn't. It's about not working.

Now, I'm not mulling a stint at stay-at-home motherhood. Nor am I contemplating a change of career. No, this is about an involuntary, temporary absence from my job. Otherwise known as a furlough.

In case you haven't been as obsessed with the "f" word as we in Washington were last week, the federal government almost shut down at midnight on Friday. I was one of the 800,000 or so federal government workers who would have been furloughed had Congress not reached an 11th hour deal. (Actually, stay tuned. The deal hasn't actually gone through yet. There's a vote tomorrow.) Unlike the security guards or IT staff at my agency, my job as a lawyer doesn't involve the protection of life or property so I wasn't deemed essential. ("Non-exempt" is the technical term.)

I won't comment here on the substance of the budget deal or the general dysfunction of our political system. What I will tell you is that it was more than a little unnerving to fall into the "non-exempt' category  and face a complete cessation of work for an uncertain amount of time. After all, I like to think my work matters even if I'm not fighting fires or curing cancer. 

Who Makes the Grade at Report Card Time?

Therapy Tuesday
Photo by:DcJohn

It's that time of year again...despite the picture, I'm not talking about graduation, but report cards. The third marking period is in the books. The proof is coming home soon, if it hasn't arrived in your mailbox (or inbox) already.

Report cards mean that expectations meetactuality. How well you wanted your child to do versus how well they did. For some parents, it can feel like a day of reckoning. Disappointment flows freely, or ecstasy takes hold. It's hard to remember that our children's grades have no actual reflection on us.

For many, this doesn't feel true: "if my kids don't do well, doesn't that mean that I've failed them as a parent?"  I would answer that question with a definitive "no." Parents have completed their schooling (or some are still in process). Grades are earned by individuals and are just a snap shot. Yet they seem to be so loaded for us as caregivers.

Perhaps we flash back to our own childhoods when grades might have been met with incentives (how much was an A worth? In my family, all grades equaled the same amount: $0)  What message did that send you? You are only as worthwhile as the grades you brought home. Do grades reflect mastery?  Not often enough. So how can we converse with our kids about their grades without setting them up to have post-traumatic reactions to report cards with their own kids?

Take the following scenario: Johnny, a sixth grader, comes home from school, report card in hand. He received an 'A', two 'B's,' and two 'C's'.  Certainly not his best showing. He is bracing himself for the onslaught at home, and here is what happens:

Johnny: Well, here it is. My third quarter grades.
Parent: Wow, not what I was hoping for. You must not have tried your best. That is what your grades tell me.
Johnny: No, I did, but it was hard and Mrs. Smith in Science doesn't like me.
Parent: That sounds like an excuse. Guess you had better hit the books now. Hope that next quarter goes better.

Maybe this was familiar or some version of it rings true. The parent has taught Johnny certain valuable lessons: his grades (and therefore, himself) are shameful, his parent doesn't trust/believe him, and he is not supported by his parent. I'm sure that these were unintentional messages.

As an alternative, try this:

Johnny: Well, here it is. My third quarter grades.
Parent: What are your thoughts?
Johnny: I'm a bit disappointment about the C's. I'm really proud of the B's.
Parent: It seems like it's a mixed bag for you.
Johnny: Yeah.
Parent: What, if anything can you think of that you might have done differently?
Johnny: I'm not sure. I guess I didn't know science as well as I thought. And I don't think Mrs. Smith likes me. I guess I could have asked her for some help.
Parent: That sounds reasonable.

Quite a different picture in this last scenario. By asking your child to take initiative in processing the experience, he or she can formulate their own plan of action. This facilitates independence, and to not rely on your approval or disapproval.  Additionally, it teaches kids to think critically.

Responding to the Japan Earthquake

Message Monday

Guest post by Chiaki Kawajiri

I was awoken by a friend’s phone call that day. “There was a big earthquake in Japan.”

I tried to find out where it originated, then called my family and friends.The phone lines didn’t work. I couldn’t get hold of anyone.

Next day, I was able to talk with my family and friends except two of my dear friends. One lived near the fire explosion, and the other lived in the closest town to where the earthquake originated. I kept calling all over the place  and searched the web to find my friends, but he was nowhere to be found.

I cried for two days. On the third day, when my son came home from school, I asked him how his day went. "We studied about Tsunami today," he said, then stopped. When I asked why he stopped, he told me because the words "tsunami" and "earthquake" make me sad and cry.

With my son’s words, out of respect for the sufferers, I decided to stop crying and began constructing a simple, easy-to-navigate, to-the-point information website for Japanese. From thousands of miles away, that is the least I could do. 

Workin' For a Living

Truth Thursday

It has been nearly 10 years since I have been working in a full or nearly-full time job where I had to commute and be in an office more than I’m not.  For nearly the past decade, since my youngest son was born, I have been running my own fundraising consulting business from home.

The decision to leave my job, from which I was on maternity leave, and hang up my consulting shingle, came easily and suddenly. My son was born in late August, 2001. On September 11, 2001, while my 6 year old was being brought home from school and my 2 year old was down the block at the babysitter’s and my 3 week old was nursing on my lap, I looked up from the scalding pictures of the downed Twin Towers on the television and said to my husband, “I am not going back to an office and leaving these small children at home.” 

The rest, as they say, is history.

I have greatly enjoyed my consulting life, especially once all my children wound up in the same public school system at the same time. I have had a good four-to-six hours a day to work for my clients, write, work out and manage our lives, and I have had the privilege and the opportunity to be the primary parent at home in the afternoons. I am both a mom with a car and a soccer schedule, as well as a respected development professional. It works.

But a month ago, my husband lost his job, quickly and unexpectedly. The organization for which he worked flailed, sputtered and shut down. We needed to figure out, but quick, how we would pay the mortgage, cover the orthodontist’s bills and feed our family on one income. I was forced to make a quick and life-altering decision. I would ask my primary client if I could come on staff 4 days a week in order to get the advantage of benefits and an (almost) full-time salary.

Staying at Home: The Big (Financial) Picture

Work Wednesday

“Consider this a warning to new mothers,” began the teaser line of a Salon article by Katy Read that caught my eye a few months ago. “Fourteen years ago, I ‘opted out’ to focus on my family. Now I'm broke.” I bookmarked the unread article and it sat there for several weeks, waiting for me to get around to reading it.

I like my job and I enjoy working. It’s just what I do, what I’ve always done, and it gives me both a sense of purpose and lends some much-needed structure to my ADHD existence. I can’t really imagine myself giving up my 8 hours of structure—of neat supply closets, break rooms with courteous reminder notes about not leaving dirty coffee mugs in the sink, and detailed process documents for everything from getting the copier fixed to writing a big proposal—for the total anarchy of life with a small child.

So, committed paycheck-earner that I am, why was I secretly afraid to read the bad news about opting out of all this awesomeness?

The answer, I think, is “it’s complicated,” but has something to do with our belief, as humans, as women, or as Americans, in the extent of our freedom in the face of cold hard economic facts. I don’t want to quit my job, but I want to believe that if I decide to quit (or get laid off and can’t find another job for several years), everything will work out ok in the end. But will it?