Motherhood has a bottom line just like the marketing class I’m taking. In my class, called Power Boost Marketing with Pamela Slim, we have quarterly reviews. Pam asks us about our bottom line numbers: how many people signed up for the newsletter? How many dollars went into the bank? How many new people did I talk to?
Today my altared space is her class, these numbers and the connection it showed me between marketing and mothering.
The numbers make me uncomfortable.
I’d rather stay airy-fairy and pretend I’m getting something done.
But math has a way of cutting through the BS.
I can’t lie to myself.
If the number is zero I need to take responsibility and look at what needs to change. If it’s a friendly number I want to take a moment, see myself and celebrate the good work I’m doing in the world. Remarkably, both extremes have caused a bit of angst in me.
The quarterly review has helped. Tremendously.
It has healed me from blindness and set me on a path of change (after the sting). Because the Truth sets us free every time.
It occurred to me that motherhood has a similar ability to overwhelm. Could I find the bottom line level of clear sight?
When I find the right questions and answer them regularly it gives me the same reality check I get from Pam’s quarterly review. I want to come out of the motherhood-overwhelm-fog and allow myself to see clearly where I can do more, and where I’m doing things I’ve not yet appreciated.
How many stories?
- did I tell?
- did I listen to?
- did I observe and reflect back?
My teenagers rarely tolerate me reading to them any more, but they listen to a good bit of what I have to say if it’s delivered in a story. These days I need to be quiet for a long while before their stories bubble up. My children want to know I’ve notice them living their life. They like to hear me tell a story about them even if if’s as plain as how they wash their hands, chew their food, or dribble a basketball. They take delight in knowing they were seen by me.
Story makes love visible.
How many snacks?
- did I serve?
- was I served?
- did I appreciate aloud?
The number of snacks served would have to be my son’s favorite number on this blog. He has the metabolism of a hummingbird and has always been hungry 20 minutes after I’ve fed him. The same son, thus, takes great pleasure in making me the perfect egg over-easy because he knows how it can change his life. But a box of raisins brought with loving hands is equally sustaining and simple for a toddler to accomplish. I make a great deal of food as a mother. Going on 20 years now. The whole category of snackage exhausts me. Hence, appreciation saves me. I am sometimes the only one expressing gratitude for food I’ve made and received. If I begin the thanks, however, sometimes others follow suit. Gratitude softens me.
Food is the currency of motherhood.
How many touches?
- did I return?
- did I offer?
- did I sustain?
Toddlers and babies are flesh-connecting machines. How many of those touches am I returning? How many am I deflecting? And what percentage of deflection is self-preservation? Teenagers touch less. Am I inviting connection or discouraging it? A caress of mine that is offered feels so different than one that is merely returned. There is a vulnerability implied. A hug that is sustained is a gift that will carry a person through their day.
Touch allows love to be felt.
What area of your life is longing for a quarterly review? Do you find touch, snacks or stories to be more nourishing to your soul? What is your toddler’s favorite finger food and how often do you get offered a soggy bite?
I’d love to count a few new numbers next quarterly review. Please sign up for my newsletter here.
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