I often feel sorry for my daughter when it comes to our reading repertoire at home. Her older brother seems to call the shots – and we spend much of our time subject to his personal “reading list.” First, Thomas the Tank Engine, then Diego, and now the entire Star Wars series.

So tonight, I pulled Cinderella off the shelf in pure “girlie” rebellion. As I revisited the story of beautiful Cinderella and her wicked stepsisters for the first time in years, I could see why so many mothers of my generation cringe at the mention of these old-school princess fairy tales.

Poor pitiful girl in dire straits meets dashing young boy, is rescued, falls magically in love, and lives happily ever after. 

So it is a little passe. But whatever. I can let that whole thing go. A lot of girls seem to get a kick out of the whole starry-eyed dream of falling madly in love with their “prince” and galloping off into the sunset. I remember being that girl.

So it’s not the male/female relationship in the story that got my attention this time around. It was the fact that none of these poor women have any good girlfriends! In fact, most of the other gals in the story are out to get them. 

Having just come off a rather fantastic weekend away with my girlfriends as we celebrated a 40th birthday with champagne, dinner out, and lots of great stories and laughter …. I was struck by the fact that poor Cinderella – and so many of her counterparts (Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and Rapunzel) – are pretty much alone in the world.

They seem to have plenty of animal friends to keep them company, I guess. But where’s their “right-hand gang?” 

Who cares if they’re pining away after some cute guy on a horse. Most of us dream of falling in love. But what’s so sad about these stories has nothing to do with the boy — and everything to do with the girlfriends who aren’t around.

Closing the ultra-pink fairy-tale book and kissing my 3-year-old daughter on the forehead before sending her off to dreamland, I silently vowed to myself to tell her all of the other fairy tales that were never told. 

The ones about finding your long-lost best girlfriends, your “go-to” ladies who will be there for you when Prince Charming loses his pizzazz or is simply working late at the office — again.

The ones who’ll notice your new haircut, listen to you “talk through your problems” for hours, and gladly share a slice of better-than- sex chocolate cake with you after a perfectly filling dinner. 

Sure, I hope that my daughter finds her Prince Charming – if she’s looking for him. But I want to send her out into the world searching for something else at the same time — a friend, or a pack of friends, who will share with her the hills and valleys of life as only girlfriends can.

The ones who’ll understand how much it hurts when that guy doesn’t ever call back and who’ll know how hard it is to take off that extra baby weight and find a bra that actually fits after nursing. 

I’ve been lucky enough to find my “soul-sisters” during the various stages of my life. A few have stayed the course, and a lot of them have changed through the years. But they’ve always been there — to call on when times were really great and when they weren’t. 

And I can only hope the same for my little girl.

Besides, what good is a dance with Prince Charming at the ball if she doesn’t have her best buds to celebrate with afterwards?

“You can be bigger socially than you have ever been in your life. That’s sure. (But) you can’t grow socially unless you help others grow also.”

Wiliam H. Danforth, 1931

During those first few years of motherhood, my social circle grew immensely. I suddenly found myself reaching out and connecting with women like never before.

My formerly introverted self was now carrying around a pen and paper for chance phone number exchanges and then actually calling to set up “play dates” (for our then 3-month-olds.)

Those friendships that developed during the early days of motherhood are still incredibly precious and sustaining to me. But I recently realized – as my energies began zeroing in on my own rekindled career objectives – that my “rolodex,” so to speak, was comprised completely of women between the ages of 32 and 42 with two to three kids each and a husband.

It had never occurred to me that this was a problem. In fact, I would have gone merrily along my way had I not been forced by my business objectives to break out of my mold and meet new people. And wow! — I was shocked at how great it felt!

As I move throughout my days now, getting together with people from so many different walks of life, ages, and backgrounds … I feel a tremendous energy that I haven’t felt in years. It’s a kind of social energy, I guess. And I had no idea that it was missing in my life – until now.

I’ve joined a local networking group, as well as another association related to my line of work, and I’m getting ready to add one more women-in-business organization to my list.

Someone made a comment at one of these meetings recently that none of us would be there (at the meeting) unless we were solely motivated by the need or desire to grow our business. Well, I have news for that person.

I may be out to lunch on this one, but I like to think that we’re also there to help each other grow. I know that I am.

Nothing feels better than to help someone else achieve their goals, whether they’re professional or personal pursuits. It doesn’t matter. In the end, it’s really all personal, anyway. We’re all people – with hopes and passions and dreams.

What a great moment it is when we break out of our narrow mindset long enough to fully appreciate those heartfelt aspirations in another person. To me, that is the “social energy” that makes all things in life and business possible.

And when that can happen, the experience of being part of a business group or a social network or whatever you want to call it is so much more fulfilling than being holed up in your office or kitchen, for that matter, alone with your thoughts and ideas.

“It’s not enough to have lived. We should be determined to live for something. May I suggest that it be creating joy for others, sharing what we have for the betterment of personkind, bringing hope to the lost and love to the lonely.” 

Leo F. Buscaglia
1924-1998

Photo taken by Tia Serre

With Thanksgiving just a couple of days away, I wanted my three- and five-year-old to have a general sense of what the holiday is all about. But for young children, what does it really mean to be thankful? — Besides blurting out a well-scripted “thank you” when they’ve just been given something that they really, really wanted. 

I couldn’t come up with any brilliant ideas, so I pilfered one from The Simple Mom (http://www.thesimplemom.wordpress.com), who creates a Thanksgiving Tree with her family every year. She draws a bare tree on a piece of paper, and then, over the course of a couple of weeks or so, family members write down the things or people that they’re thankful for on multi-colored leaves and tape them to the tree. Although she recommends beginning the project in mid-November, I decided to cram it all in at once. Just my style — fast and furious.

In the end, I think that my kids got something out of it. The activity at least gave us time to sit down together and talk a little about what we value in our lives — our stuffed animals, our friends, our school. 

But I am now left with a nagging question in my mind. Just how can a kid who has never really wanted for anything, except maybe a box of Spongebob Squarepants cereal, really understand gratitude? The only answer that I can come up with is that, at some point, kids should be exposed to those who have less. They should participate with their parents in some kind of service-related activity. 

Yep – that’s us, parents. We need to be reminded, as well, that we are indeed blessed … and that our blessings bring with them certain responsibilities. Although we can easily (and understandably) become consumed with caring for our own little families, we have to remember that there are others out there who need us too.

There is a story that is circulating around the news this week (http://www.komonews.com/news/problemsolvers/34241094.htmla) about an eleven-year-old boy whose dying wish was to feed the homeless. With only two weeks to live, he inspired thousands to give to others less fortunate than themselves. 

What a lesson we can learn from this little boy. If he was able to accomplish this miracle from the confinement of his bed in less than two weeks, what can each able-bodied person do in his or her lifetime? Or better yet – what are we willing to do? This Thanksgiving, I am asking myself this question … as I reflect back on a rather privileged life. 

Perhaps the most important bi-product of gratitude is the desire to share our good fortune with others. 

Let’s stop and give thanks for each of the leaves on our respective Thanksgiving trees. And then, with our kids in tow — let’s take a cue from a little boy with perspective well beyond his years, and start giving back.

About two years ago, I stopped buying the tear-free baby shampoo for my kids in favor of the more “natural” products on the market. On numerous occasions, of course, this “natural” shampoo would drip down into my little boy or girl’s eyes, prompting them to burst into tears. 

I always thought they were overreacting and never switched back to the tear-free brand. But the other night, I somehow managed to get shampoo in my own eyes. Yow!!! I couldn’t stick my face in the water fast enough. It really stung. I had no idea.

At that moment, I was struck by the thought, “Wow – you just never know how someone feels until you’re in that situation yourself.” And then I began to think of all the people that I encounter on a regular basis who are struggling with one life challenge or another.  

As the holiday season approaches, we begin to hear pleas from different organizations to give to those who are less fortunate. We hear accounts of people who aren’t able to heat their homes or put food on the table.  These stories seem more plentiful this year, with gas and food prices soaring, the economy in trouble, and lots of us out of jobs ….

When we’re on the outside looking in, it’s all too easy to minimize the gravity of someone else’s experience. Surely the shampoo can’t sting that badly.

May the hair-washing incident be a lesson to me… to show more compassion. And to recognize the difference between what I think I know and what I really know.

After giving birth, I became a group person. The more the merrier. The person who had never organized a social gathering in her life (aside from a birthday party or two) was suddenly coordinating a local play-group. And I always showed up. Early.

I used to think that you either came into the world a “group” person, or you didn’t. You were either the sorority-type, or you weren’t. But then after I had my first child, I realized that my days of preferring to ride solo were over. And I don’t just mean that I now had a kid hitched to my hip 24/7. I mean that the “one-on-one- relationship me” had suddenly walked out the door with my 26-inch waist … never  to return.

I have friends who tell a similar story. They simply didn’t enjoy being around large groups of women – until they had a baby. Judging by the proliferation of play-groups in every neighborhood and town and the gazillion online forums out there … I think that it’s rare to find a woman who has a child and then retreats from other mothers. At least I haven’t met one.

Perhaps what makes motherhood so enriching has almost more to do with how we change in relation to the world than how the world changes in relation to us.

Our environment is different. Absolutely. We now have a baby. BIG change. But up until that baby came into our lives, I think it’s safe to say that most of us (even if we were “group” people) felt that we were somehow charging ahead in our own little personal life-experience. And maybe we were.

The day we became mothers, however, that world opened up. We now took comfort in the feeling that we were definitely not alone in our “life pods.” We were truly part of a greater community of women … some moms, some not yet, some maybe never. That commonality doesn’t seem to matter. It’s more about the shared experience of being a woman — and whatever that brings for each of us.

Some mothers are victims of over-obsessing, and others are not. I am the former. Any obsessive-compulsive tendencies that I had before kids increased exponentially the moment I brought those bundles of joy home. Anxiety and worry became almost second nature. 

But I was given some good advice once. Whenever you’re fretting about something, turn your attention to caring for others … and the self-induced anxiety just kind of goes away. As mothers, our worlds can become rather small sometimes. We are focused on our families, our jobs, and our closest friends. It’s not that we’re being selfish, it’s just that we can’t find the time to fit in anything or anybody else. But that’s one of the reasons why we’re so lopsided (from a balanced-life perspective). Getting involved in your community in some service-oriented way is a very healthy move.

Unfortunately, I’m just now figuring this out. I think that my worry resulted from a life that was just too inward. For every minute that I’ve spent working in some form of community-service, I’ve noticed that I’ve become remarkably less anxious. And I’m not trying to set the world on fire. Trust me. I’m just volunteering here and there to do things like set up tables for a Chicken Pie Supper at the community church. It took 20 minutes. But the personal rewards were huge. 

There are so many ways to get involved, and you don’t have to choose something that’s all that time consuming. Whether it’s visiting a retirement home or delivering meals for a program like Meals on Wheels, you and your kids will benefit more from the experience than the individuals you’re serving. 

So next time you’re standing in the checkout line at the grocery store worrying that you didn’t buy the $7/pound organic grapes (which makes you a horrible, unloving mother), just walk right on outside and help an elderly person or another mother with a wailing kid load their groceries in their car. I bet that you’ll forget all about the grapes.