Acceptance and Authenticity

These are notes from a former notable social pariah who hated mainstream popularity though I magnetically attracted it: making me a strange social phenomenon in ASB in 2007-08. (Oh shush - you dont need to tell me it was nearly a frickin decade ago.)

Listen on, my gentle comrades who will face this dilemma on a daily basis in a management institution that has a workload so intense that your experience is visceral, not just challenging.

Let me illustrate this:

You are awake at the ungodly hour of 5.45 am (no one, no one should have to see this hour unless its a little infant waking them up for a morning feed) - but you are up. So you get your game face on and head to the mess hall to pack breakfast for your friends who are crazy enough to sign up for the 7 am finance class as well.

Choice A) bread and jam - sugar high and completely fun - the mainstream choice. = acceptance.
Choice B) bread and coconut chutney - the best choice of yours truly = authenticity.

(So here's my solution: wolf down three slices then and there with chutney and try not to be late...?)

haha. Metaphorical choices aside.

Acceptance is easy when you try to make choices that are more popularly touted as 'good'. (eg. good grades, staying after school for tea-meetings in the mess, splurging pocket money on movies, eating pizza with relish).

Authenticity is harder (eg. average grades despite studying super hard, hating the tea-meetings, using pocket money for new music instead of movies, disliking pizza and saying yes to salads).

Many a time, you will be boxed (dont argue this point - you will be ) - into certain frames (good looking but not smart/ smart but not good looking enough/ well spoken but too 'english' / too plain looking but very smart/ sounds confident but not smart etc and so on and on). With these frames in mind, your friends will talk to you and in all well-meaning bliss, give you advice on how best to improve your chances of... being successful.

Frankly, for fear of being in awkward situations like people flirting with me or constantly being asked to share my (always too strong) opinions, I blatantly avoided big social gatherings. So. I don't think there is one single picture of me in any of the school files. Although my classmates thought nothing of screaming out my name in a random marketing class (seriously, guys?).

Here's what you do when you are perceived as being an apple but you are actually orange: (with dollops of smiles and laughter to all my classmates - I love all of you, you know that)

In my case, I have no idea what I was being perceived as, but all I know is the opinions were too varied. I once had this guy come up to me and say 'well, I can see why you are single. You were so flirtatious on the outset.'

This other guy who says 'Mm.. have you thought to improve your confidence? You should be representing the batch in the best manager confidence... what? You think you'll win? How dare you be so confident?!'

Sigh. Deep breaths. They mean well. They mean well.

So: three fold technique:

1) Like your own company. Define your most valued traits - the ones you value about yourself and strive to live each day in a manner that reflects those traits. = Authenticity.

2) Do not try to disprove the mistaken perceptions. Its a waste of time and a validation of the well-meaning catcallers. Smile and that too shall pass. = Acceptance. (a conclusion that 'you are wierd' is acceptance, too.:) haha)

3) Chalk out your plans and work them. Don't be afraid to make choices that go against the flow (this includes marrying phD students you speak to for hours on the phone and drop out of placement season because you think its a good idea).

Haha just kidding. Except I actually did those things.

So! Looking back: the most defining part of ASB was recognizing that authenticity alone brought out a true experience. I do have someone to thank for re-affirming my faith in authenticity. You know who you are, Sir. Thank you. That is why I write this blog. So no one feels the need to fit into a box to be an honest part of the batch. You can be weird, a social pariah, completely overwhelmed and totally hate company - but you are okay. Because I was all those things - despite winning Best Manager contests, having plenty of friends and being a forum moderator.

That said, I do want to acknowledge that all the students I went to school with - you guys were terrific, competent, strong, well-meaning and compassionate individuals. Thank you. 

How to assemble IKEA furniture with a 4 year old

Who wants to 'help'

Step 1: Eat a big breakfast - feed yourself and the kid.

Step 2 - Allow the kid to read the instructions and lay out the parts - let him feel like a 'part' of it.

Step 3 - Organize the parts to your liking and take a deep breath - remember - this is going to be a while!

Step 4 - Talk out aloud and describe the steps - ask for assistance in locating parts should you need it. Praise the child for trying to help!

Et voila - a few hours later - you just might have made a family-furniture piece!

Reconstruct

This post is being reconstructed as my opinions have changed :) 

Embracing the child

As a young mother, my foremost concerns when my son was between 2 and 3 was: he needs to eat, stay away from danger and not-be-a-menace to any social gathering. Tantrums were ridden out. Anger was dealt with and sadness was sidelined - between the hour-long mealtimes and the through-the-day company, dealing with his emotions was not something I could consciously do. Let alone my own.

This morning though, when I wake up to my 4 year old child, I find I am aware, already, of all the ups and downs he will have in this one hour before I drive him to school: anger that his dad still needs to get to work, boredom at his breakfast, excited at finding my artwork supplies out and about and a delicate love when he complains about his aches and pains to me.

Usually, I find myself searching for the morning fix of something-hot and feel like a football defense player readying to fight the onslaught. Today, however, I made sure to center myself on the knowledge that: the final goal was certainly going to be met. Late by 40 minutes? Okay, but he will still get to school for sure.

I could smile to myself as he complained to his father about missing him.

Bit my tongue when he was rude to his father - I knew he didn't mean to, he simply knew no other way to say 'Im too excited to have you here right now, so please give me a minute while I remain the helpless 4 year old I am that still needs his mommy to fix his pants for him.'

Smiled as he asked me for the whole days' schedule one by one.

Exhaled quietly as we started 30 minutes late to school.



When I came back home from this seemingly defeated morning - something was different. I could call it wellness, peace or just gratitude. For unlike being a football defender, I felt like the breeze floating through the events... righting it, kissing it, loving it and making it more beautiful somehow. I think its the difference I feel when I embrace his feelings. I didnt 'manage' it.

The every day special thing :)

Its been a while since I decided that for me, the special was the daily. I have had those super-long safari park outings. The ultimate-beach-outing replete with food, sand toys and bathing suits. The day-long hiking expeditions with a sunset to conclude. However, these things uniformly have one difficult aspect: a chase. I find myself cobbling together supplies and herding together the experience in a herculean effort to feel... well, special.

This was before I injured my foot working so hard. So these days, I find myself yearning for a sit-down more than anything else. So I choose: where do my child and I 'collide?' Definitely baking. Reading and just... 'being.' The careful good-morning that dances around the morning blues is special. Watching him get his little chairs painted blue, is special. Seeing him kiss his daddy on the nose is special. Seeing the little brown face splash in the pool is special. Having him grab my hand and show me the new white flowers... the yell saying 'hey mommy! water fountain!'... slurping the last of the milk... sitting down for a few minutes to write this and be grateful.. is special.

The stillness in movement

I am convinced that no matter how big or successful or talented, successful parenting/relationships comes with bringing through extraordinary perspective in an ordinary situation. Let's talk about support. Support can mean anything - from buying missed groceries to staying silent at the right moment. I cant under-estimate this.

When my kid comes to me whining about his foot while Im furiously cooking - my first instinct to snap at him for being such an attention-seeker - seemingly corrected moments later when I realize he actually has a thorn in his foot - seems like a small thing. Built up over weeks, it is message sent to the child that 'mommy thinks his feelings are silly and annoying.' There's no point complaining that the child has upped his tantrums and refuses to engage in conversation.

Its' because a busy mind stole the stillness in the movement. Amidst all movement has to be a fierce stillness - that is aware of the progress but not really participating in the decision-making or the process. Amidst the responses to the child is the fierce awareness of our impact on the child and our choices.

When my spouse walks in and ignores the flowers I set out for him, instead on concluding I am the forgotten wife, maybe he was rushing because he wanted to fix the one thing he said he was going to fix before he left this morning but failed to do so. Maybe instead of the harsh movement, I could stay still for one moment - to say - 'maybe it is not so.' To remember the faith we have painstakingly created in each others' lives.

The stillness. That's probably why they say meditation changes your responses - for it nurtures that stillness within. 

Partnered Parenting

Carrying around a huge complex from being a highly-qualified stay-home mom I sought to establish my credentials by requiring no help with parenting - being the sole embodiment of parenting values of nutrition, routine, discipline and caregiving. Three tiring but rewarding years later, my poor spouse was at a loss at how to be around the kid and it was no surprise that together times were wrought with unease - how do you relax when only parent is really, a parent.

Then some conversation I had with a grandparent (obviously- my own mom), lit up a light bulb in my head - that I had the power to create. Partly due to the desire to do-it-all-myself and partly due to my rectitude to give advice/instruction of any kind to my phD husband - I had not helped the child have a father. Being the life-giver does not make you a father as much as your willingness and ability to have absolutely nonsensical straight-faced conversations and hug your screaming child while he hits you for hugging him at all.

So! Create the relationship, my heart said to me. And slowly, I began to apply my verified theory that doing-selfless service- alone establishes a good relationship - and innocuously included my spouse in the kid's daily routine. Teeth-brushing, dressing for school, night-time story - handed neatly to the spouse (of course to my advantage). After months of rocky application and tantrums between the two, one fine morning I woke up to find these two men giggling around each other. The child began running to the door to open for my spouse in the evenings. The child finally began asking where his father went, during the day. Aha - a relationship, if I ever smelt one!

A few months of that, later, I found myself telling my spouse the kid's antics, his arguments or his latest artwork. The moment when he astounded me with his intelligence or that moment when he reminded me he was just a child amidst all the bravado. Without knowing it, I was receiving feedback - a message to stay strong, to stay detached and to stay firm in my beliefs as a parent. I found myself waiting to seek an opinion or have mine validated - huge things in a new parenting scenario. Guess, what I found myself a partner in parenting. I now have a partner in one of the toughest jobs I will ever have.

Did I say I was giving? creating? I actually, received. A partner in parenting.

Lean Back, not lean in

Im sitting around with my jogger shoes on, with my rather naughty 4 year q year old (he typed the q) , and feeling the indescribable peace that comes with being home on a weekday with a fed child. You know all the tasks that are pending but they dont seem so big once the major set of routines are taken care of. Frankly, I find that my ability to manage pending tasks are heightened post motherhood. Unlike the reality offered by society - motherhood is demanding and unrewarding in the traditional sense. While I, the student bred on good grades gave up it up for the anonymity of motherhood - Sheryl Sandberg was talking about leaning in. There she was on the TIME magazine talking about 'having it all.' Initially my MBA alter-ego roared with approval at the notion, until reality kicked in.

The damage that term does to an accomplished woman - only she knows. Have-it-all. No matter which way I slice it, it sounds like working overtime, doing more than you can and breaking yourself in the process.

Why isn't it a reasonable goal to stay healthy and whole despite motherhood and house-dom and work? Why isn't good enough to have a sane, alive child... and not necessarily one with a tremendous number of activities?

Leaning BACK has single-handedly saved me, my marriage and my parenting. And yes, I might be super-educated and accomplished, but frankly the manifestations of success - according to my humble opinion- begin with clarity and health - not money or status. So yes - Sheryl Sandberg and good luck with your leaning in. Im going to chop mint leaves and cook bell peppers while listening to my favorite happy music. I might sleep more than you tonight. 

Life lessons

I was that kid in school who had every talent conceivable. Debate, classical dance, music, sports and writing. I was hugely popular but forever dissatisfied as I always had my eyes on a new goal. Seeing as my kid seems as talented and fiesty, Im hugely motivated to ensure he is NOT a jack of all trades. Why make him feel that desperate need to make the most of talent? Isn't it enough, hard enough, good enough and tall-an-expectation-enough to just remain a good, centered person in this world, today. Fast pace, judgment, gratification and over exposure are encouraged and not questioned.

I would think my greatest pride would be to see him a good human being - someone who can think, feel and wait. Watch a plant grow, knowing what to eat, think and feel, understanding differences and appreciating the small - these seem like far superior qualities than knowing 5 kinds of sport or painting a picasso style painting at 12. Period. I would know, because I've done both and you see God only in the former, not the latter. 

What do I see?

More than once, I have been asked to share what I see. What do I see when I head to the library?

I see a highly underrated institution. I see plenty of women all of whom are desperately wanting to do the best by their child.. each of them afraid to offend, wondering if their child is good enough and wondering when, if ever, their child would learn to read.

Why aren't we telling ourselves that its okay to try less hard? To make mistakes. To accidentally tread on another's toes. To forget, to sneeze and to not have the best manners all the time. Its OK if our kids dont know to read sooner than the others. So what? eventually - everyone does!

I honestly dont see any men watching their backs apologetically in case they 'hurt' someone as they are busy living their lives - its just 'how its done' right?

Target visit

Mommy, I need to go potty.

Already? We just got to the store. OK lets go.

(3 escalators and at the restroom)

Mommy I wont throw the candy in the toilet okay?

OK.

Mommy can you hold my candy bar?

OK (folding the wrapper).

Mommy why are you ruining my candy? (sobs)

But I didn't - I folded it so it wouldn't get the bathroom air.

Mommy open it! (demanding tone in voice)

Ok! (phew) whatever you're being difficult right now.

Mommy why did you open my candy bar? It could get dirty!

But you asked me to!

Mommy you are ruining my candy ... sob SOB SOB!!

But Raam - I thought you said you needed to go potty, could you just finish so we can argue about this?

But I dont want to go potty!

WHAT ?!! You said you did..

But I DONT... YOU RUINED MY CANDY BAR!!

Oh my gosh I cant take this - please wait outside for me (angrily pushing the kid outside the bathroom door).

(Catch the hurt look and pause on the side of the locked door guiltily. Reopen the door).

raam do you want to come in?

Yes.

(Flush, Wash, Dry hands).

Come on raam, lets go!

Wait mommy -- (shutting off the tap with a smile ) - you left the water on :)

Who's watching out for whom?

2016

This is why 2016 should be about appreciating what we have and finding more ways to relax and have fun.

'Have fun' is such a corny term - I hate it. Its ambiguous, pressuring and imaginary - talking about things you want to do but never feel satisfied doing.

I believe fun should have a personal definition - one which comes from knowing yourself fully and being un-inhibited about it. Feels like including "fun", including many others concepts like 'attractive' have been hijacked by mainstream media to mean doing something that gives you an adrenaline-rush, something that has questionable morals and sanity. Perhaps, we would find it easier to have 'fun' if we stuck to our internal definition of it - the things that make our stress seems far away and the best things in life close at hand.



Let's face it - in today's day and age - stress is like a part of breathing. The pressure to go forward, to progress, to 'keep it together' is so high - that many times, one would feel like there is literally nothing going for us. That all the things we want for ourselves are so far away and here we are - working like cogs in a huge invisible machine - never destined to chance upon that glorious and indescribable sensation of fulfillment and happiness.

Here's my definition of fun - being able to smile when you cook although you are tired. Laughing when your son says you are too fat to fit into that newly dry-cleaned ghagra. Chuckling when you see your neighbor's trying to walk two leashed dogs while checking the phone.

its not epic. Its not planned. Its nothing you can show on facebook. But its simple, its every day and it comes from slowing down or focusing on the moment long enough to see the funny side. Stress has stolen from me and my family the contentment and peace that should come with being as blessed as we are. Its tiring to give in to worry, stress, agony over goals and self-doubt.

And that's why 2016 is about forgiveness, doing less, being more and having fun. Yes, 'fun'.

The mom-ager

I am a woman and an M.B.A. Married with a 3 year old. Before I married I was pretty morbidly afraid of being a stay-home wife let alone a stay-home mom. The absence of tangible deadlines and pressures... the utter invisibility of making another human being. They very thought of it had me hyperventilate. Of course, life has to make sure you face your worst fears. Take away my identity as this smart-person who could handle-any-workload and add a baby to the mix you can picture the mess I was in 2012.

Im still a mess, but I see a method to it now. Respect is a big word, but I wonder why I didn't respect family-dom much before I had a kid. Let's talk about management - everyone asks me whether I miss being associated with management and deadlines. I think hard and have this to say - I've never had to use it more. Beginning from nutritional planning to playgroup settings to assessing growth landmarks - the mom(ager) is literally charting the creation of a new person. So yes - our bonus is a new word he uses, our raise is an extra hour to ourselves and our peer review is when your family sees that the kid is actually in one piece and not completely damaged!

Unlike other deadlines, if I miss a deadline - I have consequences other than some shame or lost money. Im either dealing with a cranky, irritable 30 pound mass or have a destroyed house to restore. If I make a poor move, Im looking at a super-embarrassing tantrum at the grocery store.

I never used daycare and he now heads to preschool 3 hours a day. Turns out I can still string sentences together and read a management report. If you detect  note of indignation - you are spot on. I'm amazed at how women who take a break to raise their children are thought of having undergone a brain-freeze or something. Somewhere in the squeezed-in blogs as a kid sleeps, the insane plans to use the outdoors no-matter-what and the tactical decisions made while cookery, my mind has morphed into an alertness I haven't seen before. Sleep deprivation, food deprivation and social deprivation converts moms into mom-agers - a bad*** version of their former selves which literally cares little for judgment and is much quicker to respond than the average peer without children. And it doesn't end there; below is one of the many articles Im seeing pop up all over mainstream news media talking about the new gen of mom-agers:

http://www.fastcompany.com/3055634/second-shift/5-parenting-skills-that-make-you-a-better-at-your-job


The point is - you can be a really good manager even if you are a mom. Especially if you are a mom. And if you are reading this as a woman - I hope it helps you make the choice (as people always present it to you ) of being either a mom or a manager.

He has rights, too.

I abhorred being ordered about as a kid. And today - as I try to get busy I see why that seems like the natural way to have kids work their way around your routine.

I disagree, though. Being complained about (I was a very dreamy kid), nagged to speed up (very very slow) and yelled at remains my poorest memory. I probably deserved all of it, but it certainly left me with a feeling that somehow my nature was an ill-fit into the fast paced life that was around me.

Turns out my artistry, ability to slow down and dream turned me into a tenacious hard worker; and someone capable of finding innovative solutions to ordinary problems. Who else would think of using chalkboards for grocery lists (I swear amazon copied the idea from me). So I wonder why I would bully my kid who shows the same outlier tendencies. I hear my mother's voice as I say 'come on I already showed you how to do it, again?'

I never thought of what to say when people ask 'how did you travel with him when you were sick?'
'How do you do this/paint with him?'

The answer is simple - I dont assume I am right. He is right, too. He has a right to be slow, to ask again, to find my behavior annoying and to disagree. I am the boss, but I am not always in the right. As long as I remembered that, I found I was polite and considerate in my responses to him. Turns out - being polite elicited the same behavior from him.

I rest my case. 

Just another day

Why would this sunday be different? It was filled with some house chores and babysitting. Im officially cheesed off at getting too little time to relax with my little 3 year old since Im so busy trying to cover all my 'ends'. These ends are annoying,repetitive and time-consuming. Considering Im sick right now, Im going to ignore the ends and spend a whole afternoon just relaxing around my 3 year old and wanting to do little else. Im convinced that this, and this alone - establishes good character, behavior and beliefs. Its not only disciplining and routine - but genuine calm relationship - that clinches good character. 

Watching and the watched

Its ridiculous. Why would I expect a 3 year old to "get" me. But apparently, he does. He observes my every move, evaluates it and assesses whether it fits into pattern or is an anomaly. Whether I am simply threatening or willing to carry it through. Through his little postures and nose-up-in-the-air he tests my limits to see where I will yield, where I am weak and how far I would go to hold my rules up. I dont disappoint. At some point as he talks about the wind moving the clouds I wonder where he stopped being a bewildered bumbling child and began talking coherently. Im not too sure when he started making statements and not ask questions. I wonder when he began looking at me and not for me. Somewhere in between these myriad days filled with schedules, something has changed or fallen into place. Oh, he became 3.