Michele Woodward

Powerful Coaching. Powerful Results.

Mother's Day

The Thing About Mother Love

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collection of old note paper on white background.I have been known to scrawl down an idea or two (thousand) when they pop into my noggin. Sometimes, it’s something I’ve read, or maybe I heard somewhere. When it comes time for my house to be cleaned out, the biggest impediment will be what to do with the three zillion Post-it notes, four thousand completely used legal pads and three gross of used index cards I have scrawled upon in my daily life.

And that’s just the tally since January 1, 2014.

So, I don’t know where this line came from, but I jotted it down on my desk blotter, which is really just a huge pad of paper I use to blot my ideas. The words form just a fragment, but it’s enough for me to remember and to think about:

“Follow highest excitement”

Did someone say this to me? Did I read it? Did it pop into my head, unbidden, from divine inspiration?

I have no idea.

But I do know what it means. It means that to find your deepest happiness, your most contented joy, your highest fulfillment, you must pursue the thing that lights you up the most.

Some of you know that in this last year I became an empty-nester. Within a few weeks of each other both of my children moved to new places to do new things and I found myself, very suddenly, with a life wide open.

Helpful friends had many suggestions for me. I should travel more. I should get an office downtown so I could be around more people. I should go to grad school. I should be on the TODAY show. I should get married. I should definitely not get married but have a madly passionate dating life.

All well meaning, but as the writer Elizabeth Gilbert wrote: “Someone else’s dream.”

When I look at my “highest excitement”, the thing that lights me up more than any other is something rather mundane. You might even say kind of ordinary.

But it’s not ordinary to me. To me, it’s the most amazing thing in the world.

You see, there is just one thing I will always do first. That I will break plans to attend to. For which I will spend every dollar I have and borrow if I need more. That I will always, always, always make time for.

In fact, my life’s highest excitement is… being a mother to my children.

Sexy, huh?

But, if they ask me to come be with them, I am there.

If they want to talk through things in their lives, I am there.

If they need help, I am there.

If they want to send me a hilarious gif of an Asian baby break dancing with a puppy, I am totally there.

And you might say that now is “me time” and that I’ve paid my dues and it’s time for a big separation and what am I some kind of helicopter parent?

No, in fact, I’m sort of the anti-helicopter parent. I’ve always known that my entire parenting job was to prepare my children to do what they’re doing at this very point in their lives – to make their own decisions, to live their own lives, to love their own ways.

My highest excitement comes from the delicious pleasure of “what next?” in the lives of these extraordinary people. What will they learn that sparks a new way of thinking for them? What will they experience that leads to a greater knowing? Who will come into their lives? How will they be in the world?

To me, this is a sheer and utter delight.

It occurs to me that what I’m really talking about is “mother love”. That encompassing feeling of good will, delight in the moment and happy hope for the future – so maybe my highest excitement is really about me, and my ability to follow what my heart knows is right and true.

But here’s the thing that also occurs to me: this good will, this delight, this hope – exists plenty of places. Examples abound everywhere, and you don’t have to have given birth or raised a child to experience it.

You just have to live to your fullest expression. To honor what’s most fulfilling to you.

Regardless of gender or station, race or education, when you choose to honor and follow your highest excitement, you bring your own version of powerful mother love to the table.

This is the promise. This is the hope.

This is the possibility.

And today, on Mother’s Day, this is my big idea. Now, let me write it down somewhere.

 

 

Mother’s Day Love Circle

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I’ve been writing every Sunday since, oh, the dawn of time (Internet time, at least) and some of those Sundays have also been Mother’s Day.

Last year, I wrote my own version of Lean In, I guess, with What Working Moms Really Want.  I just re-read this one and I really like it. Perhaps that’s a funny thing to say, but I don’t often go back and read things I’ve written.

With me and writing it’s totally catch and release.

In 2011, I imagined what an Empty Nest Mother’s Day would be like. I’m getting closer and closer to that reality today, and while I caught this one, it’s harder and harder to release with each passing day.

I asked Who’s A Mom? in 2010, which I consider my love letter to everyone – both men and women – who reach out and help children.

“With every kindness to a child, you create a better world,” I said then, and I mean it still.

Then in 2009, I repeated a column from 2007 simply called “Mother’s Day”, where I suggested we celebrate every holiday every single day.

Somehow that brilliant idea didn’t really catch fire.

In the sandwich year there, 2008, I wrote about busyness (it must have been in context of my own situation) with Repeal HAFTA.

And in May, 2006, I was a few months away from starting to blog so the words were still in my head and heart, unreleased.

What a journey. What an experience. What richness.

And right now I’m talking about my 20+ years of mothering two wonderful people who inspire me every day to step up, be present and be fully myself.

Because when I am able to do that, they are able to do so, too. It’s a love circle, baby.

And, believe me, I get so much more than I give.

Oh, people, I am truly blessed. May you find blessings, too – full with love and acceptance – in each and every one of your days.

 

What Working Moms Really Want

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If I could write a letter to Santa for Mother’s Day on behalf of all moms out there, I’d ask for just these ten things:

1.  An end to the “mommy wars” and universal gratitude for the moms who’ve opted for full-time parenting, because without them there would be no Teacher Appreciation Days, no booster clubs, no cookie sales, no field trips (duh, no chaperones), no one to take an aging mother to the doctor, and no rides home when a neighborhood kid misses the late bus.

2.  A boss who values quality over quantity, and who understands that someone who gets all of her work done in six hours might just be hugely efficient and smart, rather than underemployed and, therefore, overpaid.

3.  Co-workers who support a mom’s priorities, such as getting to the game before kick-off, or being assistant Girl Scout leader, rather than begrudging her the “time off”. [see the quality vs. quantity idea above]

4.  HR professionals who see an employment gap as something to be lauded and praised, rather than as a bar to career advancement.

5.  A supportive and true partner who sees socks that need picking up, and picks them up; who cooks regularly; who cleans without prompting; who changes diapers; who fetches a teenager who calls from a party after midnight; who thinks the mom in the house is the most amazing, gorgeous woman on the planet. And tells her so. Frequently.

6.  Equal pay for equal work.

7.  Sensible yet stylish shoes that can go from pre-school drop off to the office and on to evening ballet lessons without prompting bunions, callouses or plantar fasciitis. [dreaming big here]

8.  Girlfriends who support the mom-part of their friends, and who willingly allow children to call them “Aunt”.

9.  Space and time for moms to learn, grow, rest and rejuvenate. Space and time for them to receive as an antidote for all the giving they do.

10.  A communal sense of pride, meaning and purpose in the life of a mother, who manages to work/start a business/run a family/bake cupcakes at the last minute/smile/love/find the shoes/plan the summer camp schedule, and do it with grace (most of the time), flair (some of the time) and true genuine caring (always).

Yes, it’s Mother’s Day, but you can play Santa by simply checking off one or two of these items for the mom in your life – and you might want to start with the picking up the socks thing.

You can trust me on that one.

Empty Nest Mother’s Day

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Not that I get ahead of myself normally, but today I’m imagining the first Mother’s Day I spend alone, as an empty-nester.  It’s really not too far away – after all, I have an 18 year old and a 15 year old.

On that day, my kids will be in a dorm or an apartment somewhere, finishing up or getting ready for finals, maybe preparing for the work day ahead. I’ll wake up, early as usual, and let the dogs out.  I’ll breathe in the spring air and wonder at the vibrant green of the budded trees. Because I know what day it is, I’ll say a silent thank you for having had the chance to be a mom.

Later, after the paper and something to eat, I’ll pull on my shoes and take a walk through the forest.  It’s quiet and dark in there – even in mid-day.  And among that peace, I’ll acknowledge that I raised two pretty terrific young people.

At some point or other, my phone will ring – no, wait.  At some point or other, I’ll get a text saying: “Mom thinking of u. love u. happy mothers day.”  To which I will text:  “Can u call me?” And then my phone will ring and I’ll hear the sweetest voices any human ever heard.  I’ll hear the voices of my kids.

And I will be so grateful.  And happy.

<Right after I get these tears out of my eyes.>

See, I love being a mother.  And I’m good at it.  In fact, being good at it was the biggest surprise of my life.  That I could find so much love, and so much ability to love, just because I had these two kids in my life – amazing.

And today – right here, right now – my life and the lives of my children are congruent and yet entwined, and we see each other every day and eat meals together and laugh together and discuss weighty topics in the dark together.

Because we are a family.

And when I shoot forward to the time when my kids are launched, and on their own, I wonder how I will spend my time.  What will give me meaning?  Will anything replace what I’ve had with my kids?

What will it be like when I’m not Mom-On-Call?

Will we still be a family?

That moment right there is going to be “one of those moments” for me.   One of those pivotal, life-defining moments.

Having an empty nest will be the time for me to celebrate the past – and my role – and open my arms wide to what’s next.

Just like I did when I graduated from high school and became a college student.  Like I did when I graduated from college and became a working person.  Like I did when I went from single to being married. From being 29 to being 30. From being childless to being a mom. From being 39 to being 40. From being married to being single. From being healthy to having cancer, and then to being cancer-free. From being 49 to being 50.

I’ve done this redefinition many times before, I can do it again.

But the major difference is this: One day I stopped being 29, and I never could go back. But I’ll never stop being a mother.  It’s a lifetime gig. 

I’ll just keep finding a new way to mother them at every stage of their lives. Just as an infant needs one thing and a teenager needs another, I’ll find a way to mother Grace, the new mother.  To mother Munroe, the new father. To comfort both of them when they suffer loss, because they will. To celebrate their joys, because they’ll have them.  To offer advice when they ask (now, waiting for them to ask is going to suck, but I’ll try.  I swear I’ll try.)

There will be a lot to keep in mind.  I’ll have to stay engaged and connected.  But the most important thing for me to remember is this:  if I am just myself, and do as well as I’ve done so far, I’ll be fine.

I’ll always be a mom.  And, today, from where I stand, that feels pretty wonderful.

Who’s A Mom?

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“Mother” is one of those words that we think we understand,  yet “Mother” has a hundred different meanings depending on who’s using or hearing the word.

Mention “Mother” to Joan Crawford’s children, and you might get a wire hanger in the ear. Mention “Mother” to others, and you’ll get a honeyed story of love, kindness and connection.

And then there are the women who are not mothers, yet mother children every day. Teachers, aunts, neighbors, coaches, friends – these women are the ones who step up and provide stability and frameworks for children who might have mothers more like Joan Crawford and less like Michelle Obama.

I thank them.

Because it was women like this who gave me a glimpse of the woman I might become.

And it’s them that I recognize today, Mother’s Day.

Giving birth is just one aspect of mothering. Caring, nurturing, listening, challenging, supporting – these are the hallmarks of women who make differences in the lives of children.

“Every child needs and deserves at least one person who is crazy about them,” said Fran Stott, a noted child development expert. And while having a mother who is crazy about you sets you up for a life where you feel secure, loved and known – sometimes a mother is just unable.

We know this. Three quarters of great literature focuses on this theme.

And don’t get me started on the absent-mother theme in every single Disney movie.

Today, let’s recognize mothers, and thank them. Then let’s take a moment to thank all the other people who are crazy about our kids, too. Who listen to them, and tell them they are valued. Who love them.

Today, whether you’re a mom, or you’re a neighbor, or a Girl Scout leader, or a softball coach, or an aunt, or a school bus driver, or a widowed dad – from the bottom of my heart, thank you for being crazy about children. The work you do is vitally important, and emotionally enriching.

With every kindness to a child, you create a better world.

And I am absolutely crazy about you.

 

Mother’s Day

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This column first appeared on Mother’s Day, 2007. Enjoy!

Today is Mother’s Day. I was surprised to learn that Mother’s Day is celebrated on this very day in over 50 countries. Everywhere, mothers are being pampered, fussed over and adored.

As I expect I will be. As someone’s mother myself, I will likely get the traditional breakfast in bed — the surprise of finding shells in my scrambled eggs is one of life’s delights. A surprise that goes exceedingly well with toast and jelly. Especially when made with love by the hands of my children.

But when it comes down to it, I’m not much of a special occasion kinda gal. Sometimes the forced, greeting card nature of a “special day” feels less than special.

So, I have a plan.

I move we dump this holiday and every other single holiday we celebrate during the year.

Yep. That’s right. I’m suggesting we have no Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day, Valentine’s Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, Passover, Easter, Yom Kippur or any other occasion we observe.

Including birthdays.

Oh, don’t panic — we’ll celebrate each one. But we’ll celebrate every single day.

If every day were Thanksgiving, we’d live as grateful people, surrounded by family and friends, keenly aware of the abundance in our lives.

If every day were Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, we’d immediately apologize for our mistakes and quickly reconcile our differences.

If every day were Valentine’s Day, we’d pay special attention to those we love.

If every day were Memorial Day, we’d take time to honor the service and sacrifice of our veterans, soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines, and their families.

If every day were Easter, we’d be filled with awe for resurrection and the possibility of renewal in our own lives.

If every day were Christmas, joy and wonder would permeate our lives.

If every day were Labor Day, we’d celebrate how we do our work, and make it a source of pride.

If every day was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, we’d remember to judge people on the content of their character and not the color of their skin.

If every day were your birthday, you’d feel special, and honored and loved.

And, if every day were Mother’s Day, all mothers would feel valued, honored and respected by both their families and society — 356 days a year.

Imagine the richness of your life if it were filled with the holiday spirit every day of the year. What could you do? What could you have? Who could you be? Joyful, conscious, loving, living with abundance and open to the wonders of the world?

That would certainly be worth celebrating.