Last week, my ten year old daughter, Roxanne, came home from school with an assignment that honored the 100th Day of School. I know, how did we get here so fast?

The assignment: Make a list of 100 things that bring you joy.

While we’re usually pretty hands-off when it comes to homework, the whole family jumped in and made this our evening activity.

Especially our older daughter, Jane, who has always been driven by her sense of wonder.

This exercise lit a fire in her that tapped into her innate joie de vivre.

For the next hour, she shared a steady stream of hundreds of things, moments, and ideas that brought her joy.

“Taking long walks in the park.

Jasmine rice

Getting presents.

Giving presents!

Using your parents’ logic against them.

When someone has the reaction you were hoping for.

Boggle! And not just because I always win.

When someone smiles at you.”

Then, with perfect comedic timing, Roxanne added: “Making a list of 100 things that bring you joy!”

It made our evening and our week.

It reminded us how much joy we can find in our lives in the smallest of moments. If we’re present. If we’re open. If we allow ourselves to savor life’s Boggle-sized gems.

I encourage you to make this list. With a partner, your family, with friends, or on your own.

Keep it handy. Read it when you remember. Add things to it often. And feel the joy again.

At the end of last May, a meteor came crashing down from the sky with a laser-focused target—my Google Calendar. I was as shocked by it's arrival as I had been each of the 6 years my kids have been attending school. Why do I continue to be caught off guard EACH year by the flurry of end of school events? The endless picnics, parties, dance recitals, yoga performances (What? Ok—it's Brooklyn), last field trips and random days off (I'm sorry—Clerical Day?). For working parents who are constantly battling the image of their kid being the only one "without a grownup" at these events—it's enough to make you want to give up altogether. And beyond the made-up (but realistic and dramatic) image brewing in your head, there are the actual tears. The tears that are part of the meltdown your child has when she finds out you can't make it to her recorder recital scheduled for TOMORROW that you learned about TODAY and you are leading a talk that's been on the calendar for a month. Those tears, followed by your tears because this whole thing is just not going well. 

After dealing with the fallout of the meteor—yet again—I vowed to make it my last year of walking into the fire unprepared. Here are the steps I took to restore sanity when it seemed like the odds were not in my favor. 

1. Get organized!
This year, I put a planning date on the calendar with my husband about six weeks before the meteor hit. We walked through all of the dates where we would need extra childcare coverage by tapping family and additional sitters, as well as scheduling a day or two off work for each of us. All end of year activities that we knew about (which were not many at this point) went on the Google Calendar. The planning gave us the feeling that we were in control—and that we could coordinate our work obligations AND give our girls a fun end of year experience. 

2. Build in buffer
You know that guy with whom you've been trying to meet, but you've rescheduled 3 times already? Don't schedule that meeting right now. Don't schedule that lunch or that coffee or those drinks. Don't make this the time you're going to take your business to the next level or take on that senior level presentation. You're not doing those things right now. You're creating buffer in your schedule so when last minute things come up—as they might—you have more flexibility to work from home or to cancel meetings that will be lower stakes. If you don't have the kind of role, job or business you can tone down in this way—you can reach out to more flexible family members or friends who may be able to be on standby during this time and/or commit to be your child's grownup at one or two of the events. 

3. Be proactive with teachers
You're going to need to be "that parent"—the one that emails the teachers to find out what the end of school events will be IN ADVANCE. Explain to them why you're asking. Appeal to them by saying you're trying to get more organized around year-end events so as a working parent—there can be fewer tears and less guilt! 

4. Get the kids' buy-in
Once you have a handle on the 80% of events that are planned, call a family meeting. Explain to your kids that it's VERY important to you to go to some of these events and that because you work—you won't be able to attend them all. Work together to choose which events are the most important to each child and do your best to attend those. Explain that there may be some events that come up last minute and you probably won't be able to make it to those. If you've lined up flexible family members on standby for last-minute events, you can choose to either mention that or play it by ear as those opportunities present themselves. 

5. Give yourself a break
Remember, no plan is perfect and Google Calendar can't protect you from the meteor. You're doing your best to orchestrate a plan where you continue to make your kids feel heard—and at the same time—do your job, run your business—save the world (or keep trying!). If the river of tears is unavoidable, remember—the guilt is a choice. You're not going to get it all right and that's part of being human. In the face of the tears, remind yourself that you're doing your best, you're learning and you're getting it right a lot of the time—which in the end is what you want your kids to learn for themselves. Who better to teach them than you? 

This is a work in progress. Learn from your experience this year and opportunities to optimize could be right around the corner. Back to school meteor prep, anyone? 

If you’ve ever had that morning when your two year old clearly knows you have a 9 am meeting so she decides to throw a fit when you leave and your babysitter pries her out of your arms and you make it to the subway, to the office, coffee in hand with one minute to spare. Then you have that sinking feeling when you arrive and the conference room is empty and you check your calendar again and realize—the meeting was actually at the agency’s office across town. (Cue Meltdown)

How about when you’re running in to pump in your boss’s glass office that you’ve covered with poster board from floor to ceiling. You have 30 minutes until your next meeting. You race to get undressed and strapped into the torture device (I mean, pump) and realize you’re missing one essential part. (Melt. Down.)

Or you hear the date of the final class trip you promised you would chaperone and it turns out, you’re scheduled to present to the CMO. You break the news to your irate daughter and all of a sudden Kindergarten is locked down in infamy, as “the year mommy didn’t go on any trips.” (Ready, set, meltdown)

In these moments, my gut instinct used to be berating myself about doing a shitty job at this whole balancing act. And asking, “How is this ever going to work? How do other people do this? Where’s the ice cream?” I was left confused and paralyzed…with a nasty sugar hangover.

I’m a Type A at heart, so I don’t expect these meltdowns to go away completely, but in the past two years, I’ve been able to consciously shift the way I handle these moments. I may always be pushing the boundaries of time and my finite amount of energy, but I’ve started respecting these red flags and using them as reminders that I don’t have to live like this all the time.

When I work with clients who are dealing with this same struggle, that feeling that they’re “not doing any of it well”—I teach them the approach I use to get back on track. 

It goes like this...

1. Cheer up your best friend, you:
   Instead of dragging yourself through the mud (you know how that feels), try acknowledging how much you’re pulling off. Believe me, your husband, your boss and your kids are not going to see it, if you can’t see it yourself.  Find what works for you, but I’ve written a little speech that I like. 
   
   You’re doing/juggling/pulling off a ton right now and you’re doing most of it really well.
   You’re not a robot. (Sometimes it helps to say this 2x.)
   It’s not going to all work perfectly and that’s ok.
   Perfect is boring and people love you because you’re weird…in a good way!
   You got this.  
    
2. Create a buffer:
   You’re doing too much. You need to clear the decks and add more space into your life. What are you doing that your husband or other family members can do? What can your children do for themselves? One of the best days of my life was when my 7 year old started showering on her own.  Are you a laundry addict? Try going from 3 times a week to 2, or blasphemy…1.
    
3. Write, re-write or pull out your priority list:
   Back when I was single and dating, somebody quite wise told me to write a list of 4 to 5 things I wanted in my ideal guy and to keep that list in my wallet. I thought it was ridiculous at the time, but I was open to trying something new. I did it and my list went like this: Smart, Funny, Doting, Handsome, Creative. Anytime I started dating someone, I would run him past the list to make sure he had everything on it. And most of the time, he didn’t. Until, finally, he did…and I married him.
   
   Now, I want you to do the same thing with the high level things you want in your life. It’s not a detailed life plan, but it’s a quick barometer that can let you know when you’re out of balance.  Here’s mine: Peace, Courage, Connection, Inspiration, Fun. When I’m doing too much, I run some of the things I’m doing by this list and it helps me filter out the tasks that aren’t bringing me there.
    
4. Add something you love back into your life:
   As moms, our creative outlets and our joy often come last on the list of daily agenda items. How’s that approach working for you? Instead, choose something you truly love and do it for an hour a week. If an hour seems like too long, start with 15 minutes. It doesn’t need to be something you’re good at, something you’ll make money doing or something you share with anyone. It simply must be something you love. Something only for you. You deserve it. Refer back to number 1 to remind yourself of all that you’re doing! Not only is it your treat, but the creative fuel will give you the mojo to charge through the rest of the items on your list like a boss.

Now of course, if you’re motivated, you can kick this process into gear without having a meltdown moment. But the next time you (hypothetically) almost miss your client session because the Keyfood delivery is two hours late due to a hurricane that never happened, just know that there’s a way to bring yourself out of the depths and back into a world where you can be your imperfect and authentic self. 

Last week I went to my sixth and final preschool “Meet the Teachers” evening. All the preschool bases were covered—emergent curriculum, the not-so-subtle helicopter parent warnings, show and tell of the sweet art that will be sent home (95% of which will end up in the trash under crumpled paper towels when nobody’s looking) and then it happened. The moment I’ve dreaded for six years running. The Class Parent Solicitation.

Since I’ve done this a few times, I could basically lip-synch the speech. “It’s not that much time. Just a few emails. The more parents who sign up, the less work it is.” And then, in slow motion the public humiliation began. The sign up sheet was passed from one parent to the next until it made it’s way around the room. As it came closer, I felt the room heat up a few degrees, the sweat dripped off my temples and the excuses bubbled up to the surface.

On the menu this year: “I can’t, I’m building a business!”
Last year: “Forget it, I’m running the marathon.”
The year before that: “We're moving.”
Before that: “I have an infant.”
Finally: “I’m pregnant.”

While these are all valid excuses, it doesn’t take a genius (or a coach) to figure out—“Hold up, something’s telling me, I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS!” And I feel like I should—but why?  If I tell myself it’s for the kids, the truth is—that they have no clue what a class parent does. They don’t see the emails back and forth about teacher gifts and every last school fundraiser.

For me—and I’m guessing a few others out there—it’s about my own guilt and what others might think.

Bypassing my inner conflict, I also handed the sign up sheet, unchanged along to the parent next to me, but that moment stayed with me for the rest of the evening. 

At first I calmed myself by saying, maybe next year (lie) but then I thought,

What would my connection to my kids’ education look like if I was NEVER a class parent?

What’s a way to get involved that feels (dare I say) fun and not like a chore?

As a wave of relief ran through me, I was flooded with ideas:

• More class trips (in my favorite city)
• Singing in class with the kids—which I love!
• Career Day (hello 26 seven year old Coaches unleashed on their respective worlds!)
• Dramatic readings of my favorite (age-appropriate) Judy Blume books

Yes. This all feels more like me and less like who I think others think I should be (especially when they’re probably not even thinking that).

And while my list resonates with me, I’m quite grateful for all of you parents out there who look at it and would actually prefer the administrative Class Parent role. I know you’re out there. I’ve talked to some of you and I hope our kids will be in the same class one day.

I know I'll get an Amen when I say--we’re all busy. We’re all doing our best. When you feel that guilt creep in, challenge it. Question it. What do you really want here? You may be able to find your way through it, get what you want and still get the chance to read “Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing” a second or even a third time. 
 

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