I promise this isn't about how as a single mom, my days and evenings (including weekends) have always been busy. But lately, my evenings are as busy as my days, as that's when I try to "catch up" on Red & Black because my usual "juggling" act of work, mom, and daughter duties has become even more challenging. And if there's not enough to do as my younger daughter goes off to college in a few weeks, not to mention just wanting to enjoy every moment of our time together, there are the rapidly increasing demands because of our aging mom. The result? My daytime work hours have been seriously encroached upon, pushing things into the evening.
So, is this a piece about work-life balance? And how I feel like I'm constantly taking one step ahead but falling two (or three or four) steps behind? Or how all those articles about how one day you'll find yourself in the middle of caring for children while caring for parents will present not only time management challenges but mental health ones as you try to take care of everyone, including yourself … are suddenly about me?
Well, actually, no. As a former theater major, I was merely "setting the stage" …
I was recently in my workroom with my head buried in paper and emails when a sound interrupted me that I easily could've ignored as "white noise" (ok, Black would probably comment that I'm misusing the word as it has a technical definition and specific uses, but as any parent knows it's that background noise that you know you can disregard). But I chose not to as it was the sound of my daughter and fiancé baking in the kitchen, and I'm not sure who was having more fun – my 18-year-old or an almost 60-year-old grown man.
It started with the sound of lots of laughter followed by some (really bad) singing to everything from John Denver to Lady GaGa singing "Shallow" alongside Bradley Cooper. (It must be said that my daughter has a very eclectic playlist.) Then the next thing I know, I see fingers full of cookie dough coming my way, playfully threatening to get it on me. Wrapped up in the moment, I wasn't sure that would be a bad thing, and smiled when they left as it looked like really good cookie dough.
At this point, I turn to the TV (more "white noise"), apologize to Don Lemon, and turn it off because the sounds from the kitchen are some of the happiest I'd heard all day and far better than all the depressing news on TV. And then, as if it couldn't get any better, the sweet smell of a freshly baked cookie cake (because who can be bothered making individual cookies when you can just cut the time in half by baking a cake and cutting it into bars) drifts towards my workroom.
It's the most relaxed and happy I've felt all day, and I fire off those sentiments to Black, thinking that I'm being very clever by ending my email not with a warm and fuzzy comment, but something that I thought Black would appreciate,
And who would've thought that happiness could be "bought" for the price of some flour, sugar, chocolate chip cookies, and vanilla extract?
Of course, her reply comes within minutes (unlike me, Black's work-life balance seems, to me, to be more of a work-work balance as she'll acknowledge she has no life) and, of course, has a business angle (at least she didn't tell me to calculate a cost per bite). Black explained the successes of the Pillsbury advertising campaign from the 1950s and 1960s (check out this TV commercial from 1962), including the introduction of the beloved Pillsbury doughboy, ending her email with what's one of the most iconic advertising slogans of all time, and one she thinks Pillsbury should re-introduce,
Nothin' says lovin' like something from the oven.
It's a running joke in my family that the only reason I go to the movies is for the popcorn. And while that isn't 100% true, it's probably close, as I can't remember a time when popcorn wasn't an essential part of the experience.
I can still remember seeing Mel Brooks' "Young Frankenstein" when it was first released (in 1974) at the Massapequa movie theater, which was literally at one end of an old strip shopping center. It bore no resemblance to today's multiplex cinemas, and the concession stand offerings were very limited. It was dark and a bit dingy, and the seats were old and uncomfortable. But I didn't care because the popcorn more than made up for it. And while I sat through multiple showings of the movie (it's still one of my favorites), I was grateful my dad had given me enough money to buy multiple popcorns, as in those days there was no such thing as the big bucket, let alone free refills.
Fast forward, and some things never change...
First, I ask them to fill the large bucket "really high, please, I haven't eaten all day, and I'm starving." Ok, so I probably did eat earlier, but I need an excuse for asking for a ridiculous amount of popcorn, don't I? Which takes me to the next part of my routine. If the bucket's filled to the point of overflowing, I know exactly the pace to eat it so that it lasts for almost the entire movie. (Trust me, I'm not kidding!) And then, the final part of the routine … I don't start eating my popcorn until the movie begins. Not the coming attractions— the movie. (Unlike Black, who races to finish her small size popcorn by the time the movie starts as if it's something to be ticked off a "to do" list.)
So, think what you will, but for me, the popcorn's a critical part of what makes going to the movies so enjoyable. And has become an amusing memory for my youngest daughter and me, as many years ago, when we were in the concession stand line, she asked me what size popcorn I was getting,
I love you, honey, and you're so smart, but that may be the silliest question you've ever asked me. And, quite possibly, will ever ask me.
To this day, she still remembers it, and although she no longer lives at home, when she hears that I’ve gone to the movies, she’ll jokingly ask me what size popcorn I got. And in the same breath, answer the question. Because she knows that there’s only one answer.The biggest bucket available.
Every time we see the photo above of our "guinea pigs", it brings back such fond memories. You may be thinking, "What? Are they calling those students guinea pigs?!" Well, actually, yes. And before you think ill of us, please know that we use the term with great affection, deep gratitude, and utmost respect. And these eight amazing seniors from the Class of 2010 know that's our nickname for them because ...
We started calling them our "Guinea Pigs" as soon as they volunteered to help us develop our Red & Black Personal Finance and Life 101 program at KIPP Houston High School. It was important that they knew this was truly an “experiment”, as neither one of us was a teacher or a financial expert.
It all started at our first speaking engagement, when during Q&A a woman asked why the topics in our book weren’t taught in school. The next thing we knew, we were sitting in the office of Bryan Contreras, Director of KIPP Through College, and being asked not only to develop, but also to teach, a semester-long personal finance and Life 101 course to their high school seniors. During their spring semester. (Yes, the months right before they graduate.) While Red looked like a deer in headlights (we barely considered ourselves authors, let alone teachers), Black responded as she often does, with a simple:
Sure, not a problem.
While Red went home to carpool and baking cookies, Black did what she does best — use her corporate and business experience to tackle the challenge. So, she requested a "task force" of seniors to help us develop the curriculum because, as she put it:
If it is not relevant, why bother? And, who knows best what is relevant to high school seniors? High school seniors.
Black introduced them to the business concept of a working lunch (which might also be considered a pizza bribe), and we met for five Fridays. We gave them a list of select book excerpts they were expected to read each week so we could discuss what they thought should be included in the curriculum. That first week, they seemed motivated to help — but we weren't sure what to expect.
They came back excited and totally committed, with two of them having read the entire book and the rest having read much more than the assigned excerpts. Luckily, Red had been a straight-A, copious note-taking student. However, she could barely keep up with their comments and feedback, let alone the side discussions generated by the conversations in our book. You could see their interest in personal finance (and many other Life 101 topics) was strong and genuine, and they explained that learning from the mistakes of others was extremely powerful. One student, after prefacing his comment with apologies, stated:
When I grow up, I don't want to be Red.
We'll always be indebted to our Guinea Pigs for their enthusiasm and suggestions, as using our book as the textbook was their idea, not ours. And through their feedback on the book and the lessons they were already learning from it, which began at those pizza lunches, the answer to how best to "teach" a Red & Black class was obvious to them. It was as simple as a book club. For us, it took a little longer to come to that realization as we were hampered by our own preconceived notions about how lessons are taught in a classroom. So, although the initial intent may have been for us to be the teachers and them to be the students... we learned from each other.
P.S. – For those of you interested in a more "educational" look at our detour into the world of education, including "feedback" (student quotes, Black's "non-scientific" surveys, and KIPP press releases) from our two spring semesters when we "taught" at KIPP Houston High School, please check out An Unexpected Education Detour ...
Red loves to stop and reminisce. Black prefers to look forward.
But even Black will admit that sometimes there’s value in looking back — it reminds us where we came from, the detours and roadblocks we have managed to navigate, and that we may be stronger and more capable than we give ourselves credit for. Sometimes, it’s a lesson learned. Sometimes, it’s a memory that reminds us what’s truly important.
But Black has one caveat (and it's one of her favorite car analogies) …
If you decide to look back, keep it in perspective. There's a reason why windshields are so much larger than rearview mirrors.
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