Fly, Baby, Fly

I am living with the mayor. He has to be one of the youngest mayors ever. He also may be the only mayor that puts his shirts on inside out, considers croutons a vegetable because they are at the salad bar and goes to bed by 8, but he sure is cute. 

In fifth grade at the kids’ school, they get to take a field trip to Junior Achievement’s Biztown for a day. They spend weeks preparing for this event. I went to Biztown for volunteer training yesterday and it is awesome. The organization has set up 15+ storefronts in a warehouse and for a day, kids get to come and run the city. Each kid has a job – CFO, store manager, accountant, UPS driver, etc. They get payroll checks and open up savings accounts. The shops include KeyBank, City Hall, the Humane Society and a café, to name a few. The whole experience is designed to teach kids about managing money, running a business, working together and the economy. Almost all the jobs are assigned. Each kid lists their top three choices and hope they get one of the jobs. Manager of the sports store seems to be the most popular pick. All jobs are assigned but one….mayor. To be mayor of Biztown you have to get elected. This involves giving a speech….to all the kids…a couple of times. Just the thought of public speaking makes my heart race. I am not a fan of public speaking. I would do anything to avoid it. Even in fifth grade.

But my son, he likes the limelight. He knew immediately that he wanted to be mayor. Those of you who know him probably aren’t surprised. He is confident – sometimes too confident. He told me a few weeks ago that he wanted to be mayor. Of course you do. He worked on his speech. The night before he told me he thought he should dress up. I couldn’t convince him that white athletic socks with khakis and button down didn’t really complete the outfit. “Mom, nobody is going to see my socks.” Ummm…okay. He also told me the night before the speech that he needed a visual aid. Really? Can’t YOU be the visual aid? We talked him out of a late Target run to make buttons and settled on business cards. He was so nervous the night before. Too nervous to eat his snack and for Mason to not eat is like not sleeping to the rest of us. And, he did it. He handed out his business cards and gave his speech….and, he won.

Today I am realizing that sometimes the traits I love in my kids are the ones that I don’t have anything to do with. I am not outspoken and confident. In fifth grade if I had done Biztown, I wouldn’t have signed up to be a CFO. I would have worked at the wellness clinic or the Humane society. I wouldn’t have stuck my neck out. Too much risk. Mason’s three job choices if he didn’t get mayor were news photographer, UPS driver and real estate agent. None of these sound appealing to me because you have to be outgoing for all of them. The UPS driver just sounds mildly appealing only because of the exercise. I want to be behind the scenes. But, that’s one of the traits I love in Mason. It’s worth the risk to him. I tried to give him one of those “you know, even if you don’t win, I am so proud of you speeches” and he said, “Mom, you make it sound like you don’t think I will win.” Oh. That’s not what I meant. Of course I want you to win but I want to protect you from the disappointment. Then I realized that’s not what he wants. He wants me to jump up and down and tell him I think he will win. I can save the “I am proud of you no matter what” for after.

When I see these traits I am so unfamiliar with, I stand in wonder. They are becoming their own independent little beings and I need to work harder at letting it happen. So, today I will be the jump up and down and celebrate mom. I will do my best to encourage these traits I am so unfamiliar with. I will save my lesson on “the trying is the important part” until next time and most of all….I will try to get out of the way so they can fly.

Assembling my tribe

I had a fabulous patient a few weeks back that has stuck with me. She was recovering from back surgery. She was kind, straight-forward and appreciative. I enjoyed working with her.  She was about 15 years older than me and seemed very confident. I was surprised when she told me her occupation. I won’t divulge –privacy laws and all – but I definitely couldn’t do her job. It would take a much tougher person than me to do what she does. It is physically demanding and involves the public – even more so than my job. She told me that she loved her job but would never be employee of the year. She did her job to the best of her ability but never did any overtime and made sure she took great care of herself. She was most proud of her impeccable safety record. To her that was much more important than being recognized by her employer. As part of her recovery from back surgery, she was headed to a warm and sunny locale to relax for a week. I have no doubts that her recovery went well. This is a woman who knows how to take care of herself.

I am not such a woman. Taking care of myself is not one of my best skills – and I don’t say that in a martyr-like fashion. It is definitely an area I need to work on. Ironic, isn’t it? As a mom, I take care of my kids. As a nurse, I take care of people each night I work but I can’t seem to give myself the same care. I am working on it. I like to think with age comes wisdom and not just wrinkles and gray hair. Just as I believe it takes a village to raise my children, I am starting to think it takes at least a tribe to keep me sane, healthy and kind. I have started to gather my tribe. I am a kinder, more loving individual when I take care of myself. When I took the full time night job, I told Michael I had to get a housecleaner. I only work three shifts a week (LOOONNNNGGG shifts) but I know myself well enough to know that I wouldn’t sleep during the day well if my house wasn’t at least a little bit clean – or had the promise of becoming clean soon. So, Marlo became part of my life. I LOVE Marlo and the couple hours she comes every other week are some of my favorite. My kids know to tread lightly and take their shoes off in the garage on days when Marlo has come just so momma can reveal in the smell and gleam.

Jordan is one of the newer members of my tribe. I consider him the other man in my life. Michael knows and seems okay with it. He is a massage therapist and he is expensive. I only allow myself this luxury about once every four months but it is so worth it. Having a massage feels opulent. It is hard for me to allow myself this extravagance but I feel so much better afterwards. I feel refreshed physically and mentally after an hour of having my muscles worked over.

I also have a dear, wonderful friend I try to meet with at least every other week. She has known me for a long time and is my therapy. We can share kid stories, life stories, swap ideas about how to handle sleep problems and talk through just about everything. Our two hour coffees are a very cheap therapy and they help sustain me.

It has taken me forty years, but I am starting to learn the importance of taking care of myself. Learning is slow but when I do these things for myself, I have more patience, more in the reserves. This was put to the test this weekend. I got sick. Stomach virus, really, not pretty, kind of sick. I was out of commission for 48 hours which is hard for me. I don’t like being down. I am much more comfortable being the caregiver. I got up and moving a little too early and realized I was going to have to call in sick to work. I have never called in sick since I started working almost a year and a half ago. I wasn’t even sure how to call in. I felt so guilty even though I knew if I went it, I could pass out on one of my patients. How unnerving would that be for a patient? Having your nurse go down in your room? Anyhow, I did it. I got another good night sleep and today have an unexpected day to rest, relax and practice taking care of myself before I head into work tonight. It doesn’t feel totally comfortable, but I am working on it. I owe it to myself and the people around me. Maybe by the time I am 50 I will become an expert like my tropics-bound patient. I can only hope because that sounds like fun.