Lessons from 2017: extreme parenting, playing backup & fleeing the #ThomasFire

Well, we made it. Seriously, there were some touch and go moments last year, if I'm to be honest. As I haven't blogged for six months, and those six months were some of the most emotionally taxing in recent memory, I wanted to give them their due in my end of year reflection.

2017 held some high highs professionally. I learned an incredible amount last year and really pushed myself. But as much as I'd like to focus on my professional achievements this year, it was my personal life that taught me the most.

In August of 2016, I had a bit of a mom-crisis/epiphany. We had acquired our 7th kiddo earlier that year, and with adding Arial to our flock, I was going to have a kid graduating from high school every year for 5 years. Five of our seven kiddos were teenagers and the youngest two are squarely in their preteen years. John told me, "the next five years are going to suck and then our lives will look a lot different." I was pretty confident that the second part of his prediction was inevitable, but after 2017 I can tell you that his first prediction seems to be spot on. I'm sure this is no surprise to any of you, looking in from the outside and thinking, "well duh, having seven kids is hard," but I can tell you that up until 2017 is wasn't THAT bad. We have really good kids, but they unfortunately only have teenage brains and things like consequences or planning or big picture thinking? Non existent. While there are lots of parenting highlights, the biggest being officially adopting Arial, in general, 2017 will be the year I remember that parenting went next level and all I could do was hold on and do my best.

In 2016, John went back to college to get his teaching degree. It's something he had wanted to do since before we met, and even though we knew it would be hard, I pushed him to do it. And it has been hard. But neither one of us could have predicted that because of him going back to school, and taking a job last January running the STEM classes for an after school program, that he would have been hired as a full-time robotics and engineering teacher starting this past fall. Still going to school to get his degree, starting his dream job...John had a good year professionally, and I am learning how to be the supportive, behind the scenes partner in our relationship. It's actually not very comfortable for me, and sometimes I worry that I'm not very good at it, but I'm learning.

All of my work/parenting/spouse balance was thrown over the edge in November when both John and our 11 year old Sallie had surgeries (deviated septum and broken ankle, respectively). Nothing life threatening, but it reinforced for me why I didn't go into nursing. I struggled to balance taking care of my work responsibilities, taking care of my family, and taking care of myself. As we celebrated Thanksgiving and prepared for Christmas, I was looking forward to life getting back to normal. I joked, "no one is allowed to have a medical emergency for the rest of the year."

The Universe accepted my request and raised me the largest wildfire in California history.

At about 9:30 pm on December 6th, we packed our kids and dogs when the Thomas fire evacuation was announced for our house. Earlier that day, knowing that the fire was moving towards us, we had packed our irreplaceables and moved them into a safe storage spot well outside of the evacuation zone. We were fortunate we had enough warning. By the time the evacuation was announced for our house, I was already having trouble breathing from the smoke thanks to my asthmatic lungs. We had heard stories of folks in Ventura who were woken up in the middle of the night to evacuate and we just couldn't imagine wrangling all the kids and dogs if the fires were bearing down on us, so we left that night, confident that we'd be back in a day or two, hoping our home would be spared. As we walked through the house one last time before leaving, we made sure there was nothing remaining that we couldn't replace or live without. It is amazing what the imminent threat of fire does to your prioritization of things.

And here we are in 2018, almost a month later. The fires did not reach our home, but the smoke and ash have left a hazardous grime on everything that requires more cleaning and restoration services than we can do ourselves. Based on current estimations, we are hoping we can move back in by mid January.

The last few months have provided some extreme lessons.

Lessons in friendship. OMG, you really know who will be there for you when you are in the middle of a crisis. I have some amazing, amazing friends. I love them more than they may ever know.

Lessons in letting go. Letting go of "stuff," letting go of expectations. Letting go of needing to know what's going to happen next. With the letting go has come clarity. Clarity of what's important. Clarity of purpose.

That clarity, my purpose, what's important? My family. And that's what 2017 was all about, really. Putting my family first: my spouse's education and career, my kids' well-being, education, and aspirations. I've had to let go of some things in my life that I loved, because right now my focus has to be on this big, crazy family. I love them most of all.

If 2017 is any indication, John was right way back in the summer of 2016 when he said the next five years will suck. Being a parent to this many humans is hard. But it's also amazing and fun and I love the people these kids are turning out to be. One year down, four more to go...

On Being a White Cis Woman at the #WomensMarch & Beyond

I keep thinking back to Jack's quote from Lost as I write this: But if we can't live together, we're going to die alone. 

Maybe dying alone is a dramatic outcome, since we're not stranded on an island and based on the attendance of about 3 million people at marches all around the world last Saturday, we are most certainly not alone. But it is true that we are stronger together, and in order to truly "be together," not in the physical sense of marching, but in the ideological sense that we're all standing up for one another, white women have a lot of work to do.

Consider these points:

• 53% of white women voted for Donald Trump...the MAJORITY of white women. Why?
• how many women of color did you see at a march wearing a pussy hat, if you attended?
• what are transwomen supposed to think when participants at the marches are equating anatomy with womanhood?

If these things don't make you pause, then you're not doing the hard work yet. 

And consider this photo:

Photo credit: Angela Peoples @ms_peoples

When I saw this photo online, I made the mistake of reading the comments. Predictably, white women were defensive. I don't know the women in the photo, and for all I know, those white women are active transgender organizers in the Black Lives Matter movement. I have no idea...and the point isn't about those women personally. The point is that while we are donning pink knit hats and posting selfies of ourselves at the march on social media, women of color know that MOST white women voted for a candidate who has bragged about sexual assault, does not acknowledge #BLM, is already threatening women's health by defunding Planned Parenthood, and is threatening the rights of our LGBTQ community. 

White women, we're embarrassing ourselves and undermining our claims of feminism if we ignore that more of us than not support the patriarchy that continues to hold all of us back.

This weekend I also saw an online post from a white woman explaining why she wasn't attending the Women's March (not linking to it here. I don't want to be responsible for promoting it). It was a whole lot of march shaming, culminating in the assertion that we should stop whining about how bad it is in the U.S. and go help women in other countries who have it much worse than us. Not surprisingly, a bunch of white women posted and liked it on Facebook. And I thought, THIS is who we need to understand. White women who voted for Trump, who are shaming those of us who are fighting for equality, who are denying our lived experiences. Just as bad as the white liberal feminists who want credit for showing up but not doing the hard work are the white women who deny that the hard work even needs to be done. 

So for my white cis sisters who attended the march, waving their signs and wearing their pussy hats, here's some work for us to get started on this week. It's not going to be comfortable. As our sisters of color and trans sisters can tell you, it is not easy. But if we are to live together, to work together, to make change together, then we need to be prepared for the fight. This work is going to require more than poster-making or hat-knitting skills. It requires us to examine our innermost biases and beliefs, open ourselves to the experiences of others that are different than our own lived experiences, and then fight to change their experiences even when fighting for them means challenging our own privilege. THAT is the work. 

And for any of the white women who voted for Trump, or who spoke out against those of us who attended the Women's March this weekend, I invite you to do the work, too. We really are all in this together, and it all starts by listening to each other. ALL of each other, not just those who look and think and vote like you.

Let's get started. 

Ask yourself these questions:

• What would you do if you were harassed at work based on your gender, race, or religion? Would you have the ability to quit your job, or easily find another one? What if you had worked hard your entire career and landed your dream job, only to be harassed at work? What would your options be?

• What would you do if you were the only breadwinner in your home? How would that change your answer or options to the scenario above?

• What if you or your child or your partner had a pre-existing medical condition and would lose health insurance and wouldn't be eligible under a new plan if you changed jobs? 

• How many transgender folks are in your family? Friend circle? Community? Do you know the difference between sexual orientation and gender identity? Do you know what agender, or bigender, or gender fluid mean? Do you know the laws in your state that protect or discriminate against transgender folks?

• Do you personally know folks who are Muslim? Undocumented? LGBTQ? How many of these folks are in your family, your friend circle, your community? If none, how could you meet them or hear their stories? 

• Have you ever avoided going to the doctor for routine care because you couldn't afford it? Do you know folks who have? Do you know people for whom free or affordable clinics like Planned Parenthood are their primary source of medical care? What services would you use if you suddenly lost your health care coverage?

•  Do you have a safety net for health care coverage once you retire if there is no Medicaid or Medicare? What will your options be?

• Have you ever been prescribed birth control pills for something other than birth control? What other options would you have if you could no longer afford birth control?

• What would you do if the schools in your local district had such poor student outcomes that families who could afford it all pay to send their kids to private school? What if you couldn't afford private school for your children?

• Do you have the option financially to stay home? What enables you to have that choice? If you are financially dependent on your partner, what would be the impact of them losing their job, losing their insurance, or simply being passed over for raises or promotions?

• Have you ever noted in a conversation that you "have a black friend" or "work with a Muslim" etc., to prove you aren't racist?

• Have you ever said in a conversation, "I'm not racist, but..."?

• Have you ever said in a conversation, "I'm not racist."?

• When considering Black Lives Matter, do you more closely identify with those who support, those who oppose, or police officers? If you don't most closely align with supporters, what would it feel like to change your perspective for a week? A month? A year? Could you view this movement through the experiences of a black woman? 

• Consider how your experiences and opportunities would be different if you were black. Or Muslim. Or born to undocumented parents. Or born with male anatomy but feel very much like a woman. How would your life be different today? What challenges would you face that you don't have to think about today?

 

The reminder that death gives

It's been a brutal start to the year with the news of several of my favorite musicians and actors passing away weighing heavily on my heart. It's tough to lose someone who has inspired you, entertained you, motivated you, validated you. It's tough to lose several of them within the span of a couple weeks.

It's funny what you think about when you're dealing with loss.

One of my overarching emotional responses has been what I like to think of as my death panic. As someone who likes to dig in and discover the root cause, solve problems and uncover unexpected issues that affect outcomes, death is really my nemesis. It is not a problem to be solved; it just is. And we don't know, no one does, what it really is. Is all of what I am here, right here, right now? All of these feelings and dreams and fears, are they just temporary, wiped out when I die? Or is there something beyond, and if there is, will I get to recognize and experience it?

A lot of questions with no answers + no way to really know = death panic.


But there ARE things you can control here and now. The death of my idols has been the catalyst to
reexamine my priorities. What is the life I really want to lead? Who am I, and who do I want to be for the people I care about? If today was my last day, what would be my regrets?

The big question: am I spending my most valuable resource, time, doing the things that are important to me?

As a product manager, one of the biggest factors in the day to day work that we do is time. Time is a known, limited resource. My whole job is to prioritize and make decisions around scope and urgency. I need to collect data and try to predict the future: what will have the biggest impact? what is the minimum amount of effort that will bring value? what should we do first?

When death affects me, I start applying those product management principles to my life. What is my minimum viable product? What bugs do I need to address? What enhancements do I need to tackle? What other resources do I need?

The world lost an immense amount of talent in a short amount of time; I lost some of my biggest sources of inspiration. As I'm mourning those losses, I'm also trying to appreciate the reminder that death gives. Thank you for one parting lesson, David Bowie, Alan Rickman, Natalie Cole, Lemmy Kilmister and Dan Haggerty.

My 2016 resolutions (after the dismal results of my 2015 goals...)

I've been thinking about whether I should be making any resolutions at all, since I didn't achieve ANY of my resolutions for 2015. But it's tradition, and so, 5 days in, I'm going to give it a shot. No pressure at all, actually...achieving just ONE would be an improvement over last year :)

My goals for 2016:

• Learn to play my ukulele
• Keep up with my workouts
• Take a picture every day; post them in Flickr (or on some 365 day photo challenge site that I might find...).

That's it. I have professional goals, I have some travel goals...but my resolutions this year are my selfish, personal goals to do things that I know (will) make me happy. 

Here's to achieving all of your goals in 2016. Do something for yourself this year. 

Happy new year!

My next adventure

Three and a half years ago, I started my new job at lynda.com. My own company had been acquired a few months earlier and I needed something new. Taking the position at lynda meant moving across the country. It meant selling my house and buying a new one, getting my kids settled in new schools and it meant making a big decision about my budding relationship with my now-husband, John. It meant going from being the boss to being part of a system. Taking the job with lynda.com changed my life in every way you can imagine.

Today is my last day at lynda. Over the last few years I've had 10 bosses, 3 titles and 4 desk changes.

Moving (On) Day

I've been through numerous restructurings, shifting company priorities and this spring, the acquisition of lynda.com by LinkedIn. I have learned to navigate through the changes of a rapidly growing company, to hold on to what's important, and to live by the wisdom:
If you're ever in a situation where you aren't happy, ask yourself two questions:

• Can I change it? 
• Can I live with it (and I mean really live with it, without bitterness or regret)? 

If the answers to those questions are both no, then you have to move on.

Over the last few months, I've been thinking about, as LinkedIn calls it, my "next play." One of the things I've loved about LinkedIn is their understanding and openness to people's personal growth and career paths. I felt like I was at a crossroads, just like I was many years ago as I entered college. I had been asking myself, "what do you want to be when you grow up?"

The Universe has a great sense of humor and timing, sometimes. I was presented with two dream job opportunities on the very same day: one in learning and one in product. One allowing me to leverage my expertise in immersive design, practice what I preach in my book and to build a team of instructional designers; the other allowing me to apply my experience and passion for product development and build a team of product and UX rock stars. One providing the safety of a large organization with big budgets and benefits; one providing me the opportunity to lead a small company to greatness. One that would be the culmination and professional recognition of my career so far; one that would push me to learn and grow.

I had a mini-breakdown under the weight of the decision. I talked to my mom. I asked my girlfriends for advice. I talked to my husband, my VERY PATIENT husband, about it ad nauseum. I got differing views: Follow your passion! Take the easier job! Don't underestimate the importance of flexibility! Take the one that makes you excited!

Any guesses which I took?

In the end, I had to take the position that would leave me with no regrets, the one that I knew in my heart would enable me to be better, the one that is a challenge and an interesting problem to solve, the one that made me light up whenever I talked about it to my friends and family.

Today is my last day at lynda.com/LinkedIn and Wednesday is my first day as VP of Product at ShipHawk.

For me, it's never about what's easy. It's about solving the puzzle, finding the solution, learning and growing and constantly challenging myself to be better.

I will miss my colleagues at lynda.com and will forever be grateful for the experience of building something great. I've learned and grown in the last few years more than I thought possible. And I am THRILLED for this new opportunity to do something amazing; I can't wait to jump in with the ShipHawk team!

After all, shouldn't we all be striving for passion and greatness?

Taking a break to get in the flow

One of the most interesting concepts in learning is the idea of "flow," a concept proposed by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi to describe the state of not so challenged that you're frustrated, but not so easy that you're bored. 

When applied to game design, this makes a lot of sense. Tic tac toe is the perfect example on the too easy end of the spectrum; at some moment in time, you realize that you can either win or tie EVERY SINGLE TIME (depending on the relative skill of your opponent). I tried to explain this to my 8 year old a few weeks ago at dinner when she tried to challenge me to a match, and then went on to show her that if she played her first play in a corner or in the center each game, and she made sure to pay attention, she'd never lose. I almost felt bad, ruining tic tac toe for her, but I honestly could not be excited about playing her. It is the game equivalent of absolute boredom for me. 

Opposite for me is any Call of Duty or, more recently, Flappy Bird. Seeing as I can't get past the first or second challenge (in CoD, I have yet to make it past "training"), I give up because my hand-eye coordination is not good enough to make me successful in these games without more effort than I'm willing to invest. In other words, they are too hard and I give up, frustrated. 

What does flow look like for learning? There are metrics we can look to, such as time on task or self-reporting channels like surveys. Research on flow in learning typically relies on experience sampling to gauge engagement. When it comes to flow, it's all about the feeling. So what are those feelings? I like this definition from David Farmer (1999): 

1. Completely involved, focused, concentrating - with this either due to innate curiosity or as the result of training
2. Sense of ecstasy - of being outside everyday reality
3. Great inner clarity - knowing what needs to be done and how well it is going
4. Knowing the activity is doable - that the skills are adequate, and neither anxious or bored
5. Sense of serenity - no worries about self, feeling of growing beyond the boundaries of ego - afterwards feeling of transcending ego in ways not thought possible
6. Timeliness - thoroughly focused on present, don't notice time passing
7. Intrinsic motivation - whatever produces "flow" becomes its own reward

In the end, flow is about optimizing what you're getting out of what you are putting in. When I think about this for learning, it's not just about the feeling, it's about the outcome. I'm in the flow when I am engaged and learning and excited about what I'm doing. I'm feeling proud of my effort and good about myself. I'm having fun. 

The past few months I've been trying to learn a few new things, but the one that has been the most challenging has been learning the ukulele. I hate to admit it. It has been hard for me. Me, voted most musical in my high school graduating class, has been struggling with the ukulele. IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE EASY, I tell myself. I get frustrated. I am definitely not in the flow. 

This is a small image of my Evelyn Evelyn ukulele
from Amanda Palmer. I love it. I need to play it. 

That's the thing about flow. People tell you to get in it, but HOW do you get in it? When you need to learn something hard, how do you get past the point of frustration to get to appropriately challenged? 

The truth is, you have to practice. You have to persevere. Eventually, things get easier and you get better. But in that point of frustration, you take a risk if you keep pushing. You can start to HATE the thing that is frustrating you. I will tell anyone who asks that I don't like Call of Duty. It's not because it's a bad game (although first-person shooters aren't really my cup of tea). It's because the day that I was trying to learn the controls to make it through the game orientation, I felt pressure. I couldn't do it. I was frustrated, and then I gave up. All of my negative feelings transferred to the game. I know that if I played again, in a less stressful environment, MAYBE I would like it, but I would have to get past my negative feelings towards the game and my previous poor performance. 

It's why people who struggle to read say they don't like to read. 

It's why girls who are told they aren't as good at math don't go into STEM careers. 

It's why women who go into STEM careers have a hard time staying when their work environment is gender biased. 

When we can't get into the flow, it's hard to love something. It's hard to want to do it all the time. We all seek flow. 

So what can you do to get past the frustration? Here are some tips I try:

• Find a patient coach or teacher. Sometimes you just want to feel supported. Don't find someone who wants to do it for you. Find someone who wants to be your cheerleader.
• Walk away for a little while. You may need to take a break before you jump back in. Don't let your negative feelings build up; find ways to shake off your frustration before trying again.
• Break down the task into smaller pieces. In learning the ukulele, I needed to admit I wasn't going to start out playing a whole song. If I just practiced transitioning between chords, and practiced until I was good at it, it felt like a victorious step along the journey to playing my first song. 
• Decide if the effort is worth it. Sometimes, it's really ok to walk away. I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything because I never learned how to play Call of Duty or because I never scored higher than 4 on Flappy Bird. Some things just aren't worth the effort or frustration. 

The ukulele is worth it. I'm still working up to my first song :)

The annual resolution post, 2015 edition

Every year I try to set some goals for myself, usually to pretty good success (except for picking yoga back up in 2014...total failure on that one).

I've been struggling with resolutions for this year, and as I've been reflecting on the past year, I think I know why: my life and time right now is not wholly my own. Being a part of a large family, and one of only two people in that family who drive, means that much of what I spend my time doing is doing for others. I don't think people talk much about that side of being in a big family, but it is the truth. You can't be selfish. You can't put yourself first. You can't only think about what you want, or what you need. You are part of something bigger than yourself, and when a big family is at its best is when everyone is working together and looking out for each other.

This is not to say that you shouldn't make time for yourself. This isn't to say that there are times when some members of the family do more than others. As one of the parents in our big family, it means my attention is often focused on keeping the family machine running smoothly. Meal planning. Laundry. Cleaning. Cooking. If I'm not doing it myself, I'm usually coordinating who is.

So this year, as co-founder of our big crazy bunch with another full time job (that pays me!) to boot, I'm cutting myself a break on my 2015 resolutions. No pressure, no guilt. I'm putting things on my list that inspire me and that I'm passionate about. Here they are...let's see how I do.

• Get that second book done. 
• Get isanno off and running. I know you probably don't know what I'm talking about here. I'm hoping by the end of 2015 you do. 
• Use my AMAZING new camera every day...I've already started a 365 day challenge for myself, maybe I'll share with you. 
• Draw something every day. Use that dusty sketchbook.
• Learn Illustrator and Photoshop and Lightroom. 
• Learn a few songs on my ukelele. I really miss playing music.
• Take care of myself. I'm not getting any younger. OK, this one is a necessity, not a passion...but I'm trying to make it a passion :)
• Do some real work with those cool Nevermind folks. Maybe that's related to isanno. Figure that out. 

And that's it. Yep, it's a long list, but it's the kind of list that's a little art, a little science and a lot of learning. It's the kind of list that I'll make time for, or that I can pretty easily squeeze in time for. It's a list that inspires me right now, to do more of the things I love and am passionate about. 

What inspires you? Are they your resolutions?

My activist heart

I was Worship Associate at the Unitarian Society of Santa Barbara yesterday and as part of the service, I not only got to be the voice of Mother Earth (!), but I also delivered this reflection on the tension of wanting to devote your life to making the world a better place and the daily demands of life.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

You might not think by looking at me that I am an activist.

In college I worked in inner city schools in Lansing, Michigan to try to prepare the kids they deemed “disadvantaged” to go to college. Later, after grad school, I quit my corporate Training Manager job and helped start a charter school in Philadelphia based on the radical constructivist educational beliefs of Paolo Freire. I’ve participated in pro-choice rallies and I even got to sit in the office of the Deputy Governor of Pennsylvania and explain how the legislation they were passing to heavily regulate women’s health facilities would impact the women of Pennsylvania.  I financially support several grassroots and lobbying organizations that support movements like equality, clean water and climate change.  On Martin Luther King Day, I take my children to work on projects in the community.

I’m proud to be a Unitarian Universalist, in part, because of our history and beliefs rooted in social justice. I am an activist in the deepest part of my being, wanting to change the world, leaving it better than when I came into it.

There’s another side to the story, though. I don’t know what happened to those kids I tutored in Lansing…I graduated before most of them would have ever even applied to college. Two years after helping start Freire Charter School, I had to leave and get a “real job” because I couldn’t afford my student loan payments. That legislation in Pennsylvania passed and many, many clinics that had provided abortion services were forced to close their doors. By that time, I was accepting the job that moved me here to Carpinteria.

I want to be an activist, I want to stand up for my liberal beliefs, I want to make the world better, and yet the demands of daily life: my financial obligations, the things I want to be able to provide to my children and the things that simply bring me joy…these things are in constant competition with this feeling that I can, and should, make a difference.

I feel this most acutely when I see the phenomenal work and effort of others. Becca Claassen, one of our own congregation, has dedicated her time, energy…her life…to her passion: protecting our water in Santa Barbara county and working against climate change. I cannot tell you how much I admire her and the work that she is doing, standing up for what she believes in. Her passion and commitment is inspiring as an example of living our principles.

Watching Becca and others who live their values makes me deeply consider if I’m practicing what I preach. We all have our unique passions that drive us, and mine is gender equality. As a woman in the tech and gaming industries, I’ve faced more bias, discrimination and harassment than even those closest to me will probably ever know. I’m not alone and gender discrimination in the workplace is just the tip of the iceberg. Recent public conversations about street harassment, rape culture in schools and college campuses and the heightened focus on domestic violence prompted by arrests and indictments of NFL players, fuel my passion to work toward gender equality. When I see the work of Wendy Davis in Texas, I long to join the cause that seeks to make this country, this world, just as safe and full of opportunity for my daughters as it is for my sons.

There is a tension. I’m not in a position that I could quit my job and dedicate my time to gender equality, even if that’s where my activist heart is. I have bills and kids and a house to take care of and commitments to honor to my family and to myself.

What can I do? For me, the sentiment “Think global, act local” rings true. Maybe today isn’t my day to change the world in a big, public way. Maybe there will never be that day. But today is the day that I can teach my children about gender bias and discrimination. It IS the day that I can raise issues in my workplace that level the playing field. It IS the day I can write blog posts, post articles via social media. It IS the day that I can offer financial support to those who are dedicating their lives to the causes I believe in. It IS the day that I can jump in when I can, to march in a rally or make canvasing calls.

Today is the day that I have shared my passions with all of you. Maybe you are a passionate feminist too…maybe there are ways we can work together and support each other. Maybe today is the day that you share what you’re passionate about with someone after the service and you make a connection that leads to action that really does make the world better.

Maybe I don’t have to be an army of one to change the world. Maybe we are the army already.

Life in bloom

Another reflection at the Unitarian Society of Santa Barbara this morning. Today's post is in honor of Spring.
_________________________________________________________________

My husband John and I have become infamous among our friends and family for taking pictures of ourselves, selfies, on the beach. After one photo posted on Facebook a couple of weeks ago, my sister commented "How many beach selfies can one couple take?" My husband replied, "I don't know, but I'm willing to try to find out in the name of research." The real reason I take and post these pictures isn't  in the name of research but more to do with gratitude.

Springtime in Santa Barbara is very different than springtime where I grew up in Michigan. While Southern California enjoys flowers blooming and birds chirping year round, the signs of spring are hard won near the great lakes. While here we count the days since the last rain, I remember growing up in Michigan in winter when the news broadcasters had a counter on the screen ticking off the numbers of days since we had seen the sun. Winters were harsh and we anticipated spring much like hungry bears coming out of hibernation, but we weren't looking for food. We were looking for crocuses.

If you don't know what a crocus is, imagine a tiny, delicate flower, usually purple or yellow, popping

up through melting snow. Yes, often these little flowers pushed up through ground still covered with snow white flakes, proudly waving the banner that Spring is Near! on their tiny petals. More reliable than that fickle ground hog and more constant than the first robin picking the ground for worms, crocuses were an undeniable beacon of the imminent spring and a reminder that growth and renewal are always possible, even when the winter has been long and bleak.

I know that every life has ebbs and flows, ups and downs, dark winters and jubilant springs. I know this in my head, the rational part of my brain that manages my expectations and helps me steer a course to my goals. But when you're in the low times, the times when all you see is grey and it stretches ahead of you without an end in sight, it's hard to fathom what it will be like when you aren't in that endless winter. For many years, it was hard for me to imagine being comfortable in my own skin, hard to imagine feeling light again. I made mistakes that spiralled me further down, my inner compass broken, pointing me farther into the snowy woods instead of out into the sunny fields.

Sometimes change happens all at once, dramatic and jarring. Sometimes hope appears like a crocus in the snow and reminds you that spring is just around the corner. My winter ended like that...first some crocuses, then daffodils, then tulips. Except it was me finding Unitarian Universalism, meeting John, and moving to California...and suddenly it was spring and my life was in bloom again.

That's what those pictures on the beach really are: they are my testament to my renewal and my celebration of this springtime in my life. Those beach shots are my appreciation for the love and light in my life, knowing where I was and how hard I've worked to get where I am now. I am joyful and grateful and that has manifested itself into a series of pictures I've taken over the last two years of John and I at the beach.

We all have things that give us hope. Listening to the ocean waves, hearing a child laugh, taking a run...all of these things can make us feel that glimmer of hope and a sense of renewal. Whether you need a break from a bad day or a spark of light in a long dark period, we need to be vigilant to notice the things that bring us joy and raise us from the low times.

And while I know, like any good Game of Thrones fan, that Winter is Coming, as it always is, these pictures that I take will be my reminder of what springtime looks like and my incentive to weather the cold, grey days because sunshine and flowers, probably crocuses, will soon reappear.

TMI

I'm on a panel tonight on information overload at an event for the Association for Women Communications in Santa Barbara. A few days ago, we held a quick "panel prep" meeting, and as I listened to the other women on the panel describe their professional focus on helping people manage not just information overload, but finding balance in their busy lives, I couldn't help but feel more like one of their typical customers and less like someone qualified to share the stage with them.  Six kids, full time job, my book just out...I could use some expert advice on information overload!

I've been reflecting on how I manage my life, my engagement with social media and my interest in technology. I don't think I've ever really thought about it, but I have implemented some strategies to keep me sane. I'll be talking about these tonight, but as I'm preparing for the panel, I thought it might be useful to capture some of the ways I find balance and how I've learned to manage too much information.

1. I don't watch TV.
Seriously, we don't even usually have the television on in my house, and if we do, it's usually one of the kids watching something on Netflix. I don't have the news streaming in the background, I don't have a television in my bedroom (an neither do any of our kids), and if there is a tv show that I want to watch, we watch it streaming online. I haven't watched tv for years, and I have to say, I haven't missed it.

2. I have a separate Twitter account for news.
I don't think it's unusual for people to have multiple Twitter accounts, but I have two: one for news monitoring, and one for everything else. If I want to know what's going on in the world, I check my news account and monitor the feed. I could also use Tweetdeck or another filtering tool for this, but I have found that having a separate account is easier for me to manage, and allows me to moderate what information I take in, when.

3. I don't use a computer at night.
I do use my phone and iPad, but I have found that they are much easier for me to put down. I also typically use my mobile devices for playing games at night, if I use them at all, so I don't usually take in new information while I'm using them. I find that when I'm on my computer, I tend to spend more time at night working, when I really need to disconnect and rest. This policy also allows me to honor my next strategy...

4. The evening is for family.
I spend most of my day on my computer. From the time I get home until the kids go to bed, my time is focused on them. There were many years, especially when I first started my company, that I never turned off my computer, never stopped working. It was brutal and impacted everyone in my family. Over time, I've learned to separate my work time from my family time. It has made a huge impact on me, and has made the time I do spend working more productive, because I'm always working against self-imposed deadlines.

5. If I'm feeling overwhelmed, I go to the beach.
I'm lucky; I can walk to the beach from my house, so when I get that overwhelmed feeling, off I go. The beach may be it for me now, but in the past, taking a bath, working on a creative project, or playing a game were all ways I could decompress. Everyone has something that takes them from hectic to calm; find yours and use it liberally.

6. Understanding the value I get from social media.
Facebook and Twitter go on, and are no worse off when I take a break. Stepping away sometimes actually gives me more perspective on what value social media brings to me. It helps me set boundaries and "rules" for what information I subject myself to and when I open those gates. Sometimes when I see the negative stuff, I have to remember that 1. I have a choice of what information I allow in, and 2. People who are negative and hurtful through social media are likely also that way in real life. If I wouldn't have a drink with them in real life, why would I "hang out" with them through social media? Block, unfriend and unfollow are great curation tools for TMI.

7. Quiet and focused energy.
Yoga is my friend. A brisk walk or workout is an active way to clear the clutter in my head, but taking a few minutes to meditate can also help me refocus. They both really do the same thing for me: extract me from the information stream and help me focus on my health, energy and what's really important.

I'm sure I've employed other strategies that aren't coming to mind, and I'm also sure that you all have even better tips and advice to share. Please add your own information overload strategies in the comments, and I'll share them with the panel tonight!

It's a sin

Today I served as worship associate at USSB and read the following reflection on sin, sloth and service.
______________________________
I recently visited Las Vegas for a conference, and it struck me that Vegas is a vacation destination that promotes sin as it's main tourist attraction. It is Sin City after all, with the tag line "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas," as if anything that you do in Vegas is understood to be ok even if it's not ok anywhere else.

Vegas really banks on the allure of the "sexy" sins in the Seven Deadly Sins list: Greed. Gluttony. Pride. Envy. Lust. Everywhere you look in Vegas, you see the promise of these sins in excess, from the  photos handed out on the sidewalks that most closely resemble trading cards of scantily clad companionship for an evening, to the adult version of sippy cups filled with frozen mixed drinks, to the urgently blinking, ever present lights of the slot machines promising the possibility of riches. Even wrath is starting to make an appearance on The Strip; there are ads everywhere for gun ranges where you can fire machine guns and high powered assault rifles to work out your aggressions.

What's interesting is the Deadly Sin that doesn't feature in the advertising for Las Vegas: sloth. Sloth is not a sexy sin; sloth represents laziness, inaction, wasting time. It's funny, but Sloth is the sin I'm most offended by, and the sin I fear most for myself.

I walk through most of my days feeling an internal pressure to do more. Get more work done. Do more housework. Spend more time with the kids. Finish that knitting project. Write another blog post. Schedule that appointment. The To Do list never ends, and at the end of each day, I usually make a list of what I didn't get done to set myself up for failure the next day. It becomes a never ending cycle. While my intentions are always pure in seeking a sense of accomplishment, the truth is, I know I'll never do everything I want to do. I'll never solve every problem and I'll never feel good enough. I'm forever seeking that golden ring of achievement beyond reproach, especially from myself.

I once had a conversation with a good friend who asked, "do you think you will ever feel satisfied?" And I wanted to answer yes, but when I thought about it, I couldn't think of a condition or state when I would feel like there was nothing left for me to do. There are small moments when I feel a glimpse: when ALL the laundry is done. When I received an award for my book. When I sold my company. When another parent compliments me on one of my kids. I feel for a moment like I've accomplished something meaningful. And then I start reviewing the list of what else I need to do. I'm constantly trying to outrun the shadow of sloth.

What drives this feeling in me is a desire to change the world, to leave this place better than I found it and to be a good example to the people I'm raising into adults. One of those young people is traveling on the YRUU trip over spring break to the Hopi reservation, and her trip has sparked anew my own To-Do list for service and activism.

The opportunity for activism was one of the things that appealed to me when I attended my first Unitarian Universalist service. Not just the opportunity, but the explicitly stated value of action for UUs. Here at the Unitarian Society of Santa Barbara, our mission is "Living with integrity, Nurturing wonder, Inspiring action." Inspiring action is one of the three components of our mission. How better for me to inspire action than by example? How better for me to change the world than with others who want to do the same?

If one of the core values held by Unitarians is action, then sloth may be our most deadly sin. And more, I wonder, if Unitarians are attracted to action as a spiritual practice, is this feeling of never doing enough common in our membership? From the friendships I've made in this congregation and from my relationships with the ministers and staff here, I would guess that I'm not alone in my feeling that I always have more to do.

As I think about this pressure to do more, and as I look at the teens preparing for their mission trip, I am reminding myself that my action, my contribution, my efforts are measured not by one rally, or signed petition, or service trip, but by the values I hold and the way I engage with the world every day. Today, that might mean having a dance party with my 7 year old or finishing the laundry or giving my husband a break and cooking dinner for once. Tomorrow, that might be me attending a rally or speaking at an event for women in technology or mentoring a young person interested in game design. All of these things will in their small way make the world better. I need to keep reminding myself that showing up with good will and intent and living my values are ultimately what makes the world a better place.

Maybe Vegas has it right. Just like the allure of Vegas in allowing us to dip our toes into sin a little bit without abandoning our values and responsibilities, relaxing every once in a while might just be the break I need to remind myself that even if I don't accomplish everything on the list, allowing myself time to play, rest, reflect and take a deep breath aren't symptoms of sloth but are actually necessary to make me whole, balanced and able to take on tomorrow's to do list and the world.

The happy revolutionary

I read an article yesterday on the 21 Habits of Supremely Happy People. It's a good list (and it wasn't a top 10 list, so that made me less suspicious). I've been thinking a lot about happiness lately, because I'm pretty ridiculously happy. It's taken me a long time to get here and there were a lot of missteps and big ol' mistakes that I made along the way. But here I am! Happy! And yet...

There's a big part of my personality that has always been perpetually dissatisfied. These are the parts that want to make the world better. These are the parts that want to call out injustice, the parts that get angry at the liars, the cheaters, the bullies, the mysogynists. These are the parts that want to take on new challenges. These are the parts that want to write books and start new ventures and fight against a broken status quo. The dissatisfied parts of myself are the parts that have pushed me to do the things of which I'm most proud.

Should we want to be supremely happy? Can we reconcile the complacency and contentment that comes with happiness with a desire to change the world? Can we be revolutionaries and still be happy?

I'm struggling with this. There are some days that contentment wins, and I embrace this wonderful time in my life with gratitude and appreciation. And then...the inevitable guilt: I'm not doing enough. I should be doing more. Am I wasting my life?

There are some days that the revolutionary wins. I write, I plot, I rally the troops. I get shit done. But I long to just be in the moment, to stop and read or listen to the waves or watch old Farscape episodes and just be happy.

I don't know that there's an answer, or that I'm asking a question. I do know that just being "supremely happy" or only focusing on changing the world would both leave me unsatisfied. So the eternal struggle for me is being a happy revolutionary: embracing happiness without being a sheep, changing the world without letting it jade me. 

A year of living (mostly) bloglessly

I started this blog to write about starting a company, everything I learned along the way. It's evolved over the years...at first I wrote a lot about starting Tandem Learning, then I wrote a lot about virtual worlds. Learning. Games. Gender issues. Taking risks. Occasionally, my kids. My goals. Music. I've written about so many things.

There's been a lot I haven't written about. I learned (the hard way) about what happens when you reveal too much about yourself out there to the world. It's still shocking to me that sometimes people read what I write. I had to learn to balance out the personal benefit I gain from writing my thoughts down in this blog, and the potential fallout for me when people read what I write. I have opinions, no doubt. I learned that sometimes I need to keep them to myself.

This year was a particularly tough juggling act, professionally and personally, in relationship to this blog and what I wanted to share publicly. Most of the time, I erred on the side of silence. My rationale was that this was a blog started to document my professional development and the stories of my personal growth and learning this year didn't really "fit."

So now it's December, and I look back at everything I didn't write about this year...I look at whole months where I stayed silent and didn't post the things I was learning. I look back on a year when I evolved more, learned more, and took more risks than I ever have. I didn't share most of it. I didn't document that evolution. And now, I kinda wish I would have.

Blogging is what you make of it, right? Maybe this is a professional blog, but it's a personal blog, too. Sometimes the personal is going to supersede the professional and sometimes it's gonna be all work, work, work. I made a resolution at the beginning of 2012 to apologize less. That hasn't gone so well...old habits die hard. For 2013, I'm just going to be me but I'm going to write about it here, because that's how I learn. So no apologies in advance for the posts about my upcoming wedding, my continued amazement at the beauty that surrounds me every day here in Santa Barbara county, my hilarious kids that push me to be better, and my partner, my love, who has made me reconsider my stance on fairy tales. 

I'm also about to write a post on why most assessment in learning is bullshit. Because, well, that's who I am, and what this blog is, too.

Game on, 2012, game on.

I got a dog.

I taught a graduate class on game design. 

I said JFDI (the actual words ;) on stage during the closing keynote at DevLearn. 

I finally took the kiddos to Disney World. 

I sold my company. 

I signed a book deal. 

I held out hope, had my hopes dashed and had my hopes renewed. 

I signed The Book. 

I joined a choir. 

I drove 37 hours over 5 days with 3 kiddos and a puppy. 

I closed some chapters, started some new ones and left some to be continued. 

I leaned on my friends and they leaned on me. 

I laughed until I cried. 

I cried until I laughed. 

I got my first tattoo.

I took up photography and took beautiful pictures. 

I tweeted and blogged and tumblr'd and flickr'd.

I danced. A lot. And not always in my living room :)

I read the entire Game of Thrones series (so far). 

I strengthened friendships that I can't imagine living without.

I watched my kiddos grow in ways I could never have predicted.

I grew in ways I could never have predicted.

I learned. 

So let's dance, 2012. 

Better Than Wonder Woman

I read an article the other day (that I'm not going to link to) where a female executive gave advice to women starting out in their careers. Her advice? Pick what's most important to you (career or family) and focus on that. She said that its practically impossible for women to be successful both in the boardroom and raising a family, so you have to choose. 

What a crock of shit. 

When I was a little girl, I actually didn't know if I wanted to have children. I knew that I wanted to have a career, and I didn't have a lot of role models of women who were raising a family and were successful professionally. I was always a bit geeky and Wonder Woman was my idol. When I looked at her, I saw a very successful, strong woman. She was independent, but she was also alone. I did think I had to choose. 

The day I became a mom, I did choose. I knew that my career was an indispensable part of who I was and that I would not be happy filling my days solely with play dates and mom clubs. I knew that I wanted to be a role model for my son (and later my next son, and daughter), to show him that women are just as capable of pursuing professional success as men. I knew that's the kind of mom I was...not a cookie baker or exceptional homemaker, but an executive mom. 

I knew that there would be other women who made different choices and who would judge me for mine.  There are lots of times that I look at other women with envy, for their exceptional skills at home or at work. Then I remind myself: I want to have it all. That means its not going to be perfect; it means there will be successes and failures. I can see the argument on both sides: I'd be a better mom if I didn't work so hard, or I'd be more successful if I wasn't raising children. Maybe both of those statements are true. 

But maybe MY measure of success is pursuing my professional dreams, being happy and present for my children, living the example I want to set. I can't listen to what people tell me I can, or can't, have. Those naysayers may just have a different picture of what success looks like...and that's not my picture. While I still love Wonder Woman, she's no longer my role model. She may have been strong and independent, but I wonder if she was lonely. I know now, if I want to have it all, I have to be better than Wonder Woman.

Curating digital identity: developing a personal social media policy

Earlier this summer, I got my first tattoo. I was (still am) really excited about it and immediately wrote a blog post to share it with everyone. I included a picture, explained the importance of it to me and was all ready to hit "Publish Post"...and I couldn't. It was the picture that stopped me, to be honest...the tattoo is on my ribcage and although there's nothing that you see in the picture other than my midriff and abs, I stopped because I wondered if posting the picture was appropriate for my blog where I mainly focus on topics that affect me professionally.

I had decided not to post the picture on Twitter, mainly because I thought it could potentially get me a bunch of "followers" (read: spammers)  I'd have to block anyway. Also, my Twitter account is connected to my LinkedIn account, and I didn't want the picture posted there.

I did post the picture on Facebook. My rationale was that even if you know me professionally, if you friend me on Facebook and I accept, we're agreeing that we're sharing more of the personal sides of our lives.

Now, keep in mind, this tattoo is completely visible when I'm at the pool in my swimsuit. Yet I literally thought through the implications of posting it to any of the social media tools that I use and what the impacts could be.

After going through this process and making my decisions, I realized how important it is to start getting kids thinking about their own digital identities and what information is appropriate to be shared online. I'm not just talking about avoiding child predators; I'm even thinking more subtly than losing out on a potential job or ruining relationships. Everything you post online is a representation of who you are. What other people post and say about you is an expansion on that digital identity.

My 13 year old nephew illustrated that point to me with clarity this summer during my vacation in Michigan. As I took pictures of him with my kids, he said, pleading, "Please don't tag me on Facebook." As an early teen, being seen hanging out with his little cousins wasn't exactly the reputation he was interested in curating online. Since that conversation with him, I've started asking my kids' permission before I share online any pictures of them or stories about them. There is an element of respecting other people's privacy, not just your own, that is one of the critical competencies of using social media and an important lesson for kids...and parents. People who share out information about their children's medical conditions, educational struggles, or behavioral issues are making decisions about how those children's digital identities are being formed, with potential long-term implications and impacts on their reputation.

As a professional, I'm making decisions daily on what messages, content, and personal information I share online that builds and expands my digital identity. As a parent, I'm talking to my kids about how they can start making good choices about their emerging digital identities. Forget corporate social media policies...each of us needs to develop our own social media policy to curate our digital identities and reputations. To support our personal goals, we need to develop the skills to critically assess the content we share, the context we're sharing it in, the intended audience, the channels that we're using to communicate, and the potential implications for ourselves and others in what we choose to share. For me, this means if you want to see my tattoo, you'll have to friend me on Facebook or catch me at the pool. 

Sometimes its tough to blog

There are lines that become blurry when you blog about your business and you're an entrepreneur for whom business is personal. When I started this blog, I wrote about starting this company, the issues and challenges. Over the years, it became more difficult to be that open, not because I didn't want to share what I was learning or reflect on the process, but because that process involved other people. Writing is a deeply personal activity for me, a chance to reflect and synthesize and deconstruct. The point at which that thinking involves other people, however, becomes a decision point as to whether or not MY reflection and learning can negatively impact others. 

The act of writing, publishing, is an act of responsibility. There are times when I struggle with the balance of my own reasons for blogging and respecting the privacy of other people in my life. Sometimes that means that I'll just write about purely work or professional topics. Sometimes that means that I'll write personal stuff but try not to write about anyone else. 

Sometimes that means that I stop blogging for awhile. 

Today I wrote for hours, reflecting on the current state of my personal and professional lives. It has been weeks since I've posted something here and I had finally caught my breath and wrote it all down, how I was feeling, what I was thinking. It was awesome. But I couldn't hit publish. I sat and looked at what I had written and then I deleted it. I deleted it because sometimes you have to just write for you. Sometimes there isn't a good reason to let the world into your thought process. Sometimes its just vanity to reveal the good, the bad, and the ugly. Sometimes you need to not just be a writer, but an editor too. 

I think there is a balance to strike between the personal and professional. I love to read a great professional reflective post, but I also love to read about someone's personal journey. It reminds me that we're all just figuring our way through this crazy maze. But these days, when everything you publish online is saved, cached, and accessible in the Library of Congress, I think privacy is sometimes overlooked. I value my privacy and I respect the privacy of others. So I hit delete, and I'm writing this post instead. 

Be kind to one another, everybody. These are exciting times and we're all in this together. 

The problem with potential

I have a super power. I know, everyone likes to think about what super power they wish they had (I like to do that too), but I actually have one. I could go into all of the reasons of why I know this, but suspend your disbelief and pretend like you believe me.

I can see potential.

Not some vague sense or hope or glimmer. I see the future. Or, what the future could be.

That's the problem with potential...free will. Also? Hard work. Let me explain.

Suppose I came to you today and I told you that you could be President of the United States. Let's say that was something you very much wanted. And suppose I could lay out for you everything that it would take to make that happen, or at least the major steps. "All you have to do," I'd say, "is X and Y and Z, and you can be President."

Most people probably wouldn't do it. And why is that? Oh...there are lots of reasons...fear of change, fear of failure, insecurities, self-doubt, doubt of others' belief in us...and sometimes its just too much work to live up to our potential. Sometimes its too hard and too scary. Most of the time, actually.

Which is why I have the crappiest super power ever. (In doing some research, I found this list of lame super powers. In comparison, I don't feel THAT bad about mine...). Because most people, in the end, value security over their goals and I'm left seeing all of that wasted potential of what could have been.

I'm writing about all of this today because of my oldest son. Maybe its a weakness in my super power, or maybe its a feature, but I can't see the future of my kids. I think its probably the one reprieve I get...I don't have to be tortured over the decisions of my children. Plus, all parents see, in some vague way, the potential of their kids. Some parents push their children to be the best they can be, some parents are completely hands off and let their kids find their own way. Most people probably fall somewhere in between. I always had the philosophy that I would parent by example...I challenge myself to live the way that I hope my children will live. Fearless, passionate, determined, honest, compassionate, and thankful...those are the characteristics I've tried to model for my kids.

But today, I am humbled by my son. I am humbled by his potential, the person he is, and the person I now realize he has the potential to be. Because of him, I'm seeing for the first time in a long time, the potential that we ALL have and what it takes to achieve it.

Today, my son performed an African dance.

I could point out to you which 3rd grader he is, but in the end, it doesn't matter. As part of an Artist in Residence program at his school, teachers of African dance and music worked with these kids one day a week for six weeks, teaching them about rhythm and dance and "the break" in percussion when the drums signal the dancer to transition from one style to the next. My son is quiet, a gamer and an intellectual, more pragmatic than a dreamer. He's not much for showing off.

In his 1st grade play performance, he stunned me by beatboxing to a rap song the kids performed at the end of the play. In the 2nd grade talent show, he decided to perform stand up comedy. He killed. Not that I didn't have faith in him, but I was shocked. But this year was different...this year was on stage. This was dancing.

This was going to be a challenge.

Except it wasn't. Because what my 8 year old son taught me today is what I've been trying to teach him. That you can accomplish great things, you can realize your potential, if you decide that's what you're going to do. He never doubted he could beatbox at 6 years old, he wasn't scared to tell jokes to a packed house of his peers and their parents when he was 7. Today, at 8 years old, he was fearless, passionate, determined, honest, compassionate and thankful...in front of a crowded auditorium. He never even considered another option. And so, with a joy a wish I could bottle, he performed an African dance.

In the end, the people who realize their potential are the people who see no other option...and my super power ends up meaning very little to people who are willing to settle for less.

For the record, if I ever got to choose, I think I'd rather have the super power of teleportation. Kinda like Samantha in Bewitched.