Tag: reflection

I Have a Google Goggles Headache

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 8 Comments

information2“We are drowning in information, but starved for knowledge” was written by John Naisbitt…in 1982…and I can’t find a more apt commentary about the status of my own overwhelmed brain. 16 years after that statement was made, Google was founded, and since then, countless other technologies exist that enable us to access information like never before.

But my brain hurts. It feels like when Tom from Tom and Jerry gets shot at and then takes a drink of water. As he drinks it down, it just goes right out all the holes he now has. My head is kind of like an old colander these days—I can hold the water of information for a little bit before it just seeps right through.

Listen, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a Google Girl. Ask anyone who knows me well, and they’ll roll their eyes and comment on how I whip out my Droid like a six-shooter and dial up information faster than a speeding bullet. It’s awesome…”Who starred in My Favorite Martian”? Done. “What is the lifespan of a dragonfly?” You got it. “What’s the record number of points scored in a football game?” Dude, I’m all over it.

But I have come to recognize that while a ginormous amount of information is at my fingertips, my retention of it, well…totally blows…as in blows through one ear, takes a brief stop at my addled brain, and then goes right out the other ear.

And it’s not just Google or other search engines. It’s all the opportunities we have to store information that we know we can access later…but will we? And if we do, will we truly digest it, remember it, and learn from it? Like Naisbitt states, we aren’t necessarily using it for the growth of knowledge. Today you can Evernote it, Pin it, Facebook it, Drop Box it, stick it in an email folder, on your phone—you name it. Entire companies are exploding with ways for us to store, store, store. My head is truly in The Cloud.

And the sad reality is that what is stored in my brain is ridiculous stuff that entered in years ago when it had a fighting chance to hang around. Oh, if only I could make room for data that actually matters by hitting the delete key on all of the Brady Bunch tidbits stuck inside my brain. And I don’t have to look far—these little bits of useless minutiae bubble up with no problem.

The name of the kid they brought in when Cindy and Bobby were getting too old to be “cute” anymore? Cousin Oliver. Who played Aunt Jenny, Jan’s lookalike? Imogene Coca. What was the name of Alice’s identical cousin (a popular yet disturbing TV phenomenon)? Emma. What world record do Bobby and Cindy try to break to garner some attention? Teeter-tottering. You get the idea.

I need to defrag my brain.

And as if all of our ability to catalog and store info wasn’t enough, we have things like YouTube now offering recommendations for videos to watch—because apparently they don’t trust me to waste enough of my time on their site without their stellar suggestions! “Hey, if you like that puppy video, we’re sure you’ll enjoy THIS one…” Uh, thanks, YouTube, but I will figure out what videos I want to distract myself with…oh, wait…that one does look awfully cute…

It must be a conspiracy. Information is out to get me! I am getting pummeled with factoids and folklore. What to do?! Where can all this information overload possibly lead?!

Guess I’ll Google it to find out.

The Sandwich Generation – If Only It Were as Simple as a Turkey on Wheat

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 4 Comments

Hold the mayo.I am so representative of the Sandwich Generation that I may as well be salami with a nice slice of provolone. The “Sandwich Generation”—the term that has come into use to describe those of us who are taking care of both children and parents—is a growing reality, and I suspect several of you reading are card-carrying members of this special club. You know you are in this group if someone asks you for your date of birth or Social Security number and you have to think hard because your parent’s or your kid’s numbers come to mind first.

It’s just a fact of life, but some days are more “sandwich-y” than others. Having my octogenarian mom living with us can make for a 3’ submarine sandwich, where some days I’m dealing with “the sick kid shuffle” (you know—the rearranging/redefining you need to do with your day when your child is sick and home from school), while I’m on hold with my mom’s doctor to have test results sent Somewhere Else, trying to deal with a barrage of emails, then there’s that pesky thing called “work,” and the dogs are whining to be let out. (The dogs don’t play an “official” role in the Sandwich, thankfully…they just add color to the situation.) On an average day, it simply means scheduling her doctors’ appointments so they don’t conflict with having to pick my kid up from school or some other activity…just another consideration in the juggle struggle.

Overall, it means seeing to the parent’s well-being in a similar way that you do your child’s. But. There is a big but, my friends (just one T on the big “but”…this time)…It does NOT mean treating said parent AS the child. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. That will buy you a heap o’ trouble. It is an art in which I frequently fall short. Can you relate? An aging parent needs support and care, while at the same time they do not want to admit that they need the support and care because it means they are diminishing in some ways. And trying to find the fine line to walk, wherein you are helping without being too helpful can be like walking a minefield.

A classic rough spot for me is doctors talking to me rather than my mom, though she is sitting right there. For the life of me, I don’t know why doctors don’t have better technique in this respect, but I know I would not like being the third party subject of the conversation while someone looks past me. So I find my diplomacy skills grow, as I redirect the conversation to my mom, while at the same time gently filling in any blanks that she may leave. Even with my diplomacy, though, we often leave the doctor with my mother fuming at being treated like a child…and since her generation doesn’t typically spout off to doctors, guess who gets the ire? Ah, life.

There is so much more to say on this topic, but my intention is not to bore you (really—I mean it). I’m just scraping the surface here because I merely want to say that for those of you going through similar challenges, you are not alone. And sometimes just knowing that helps. Some days you want to just curl up and say “enough,” but we keep on carrying on. Because we have to. And hopefully you have someone in your immediate world who takes care of you now and then. Remember to let them do that for you. And if you feel guilty when, for instance, your understanding spouse (like mine) tells you to go have a girls’ night out, remind yourself that you can’t take care of anyone else if you’ve fallen apart.

So if not for yourself, then for those who depend on you: don’t forget to be a caregiver to yourself, too. 

And for those of you who aren’t officially in the Sandwich Generation, you better buckle your seatbelt because odds are your bumpy ride is right down the road. Don’t worry, though—we who are living this now will try to draw you a map—it’s just that it might have some missed turns, wrong directions, and a few unnecessary detours. It’ll be like a Garmin in need of an update. Hey, what do you expect? We’re doing the best we can.

The Guilt Trip Trap

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ Leave a comment

While I have already shared my sure-fire recipe for success for New Year’s resolutions, the new year is also a great time for reflecting on some of life’s “haunts,” as well. Those things that we let plague us in one way or another, diminishing our overall quality of life. And today I want to visit a very common one. Most women I know—and many men, too—are on a long voyage of sorts within their lives: the Guilt Trip—and I don’t mean the Rogen/Streisand movie currently at the theaters.

All fall short.
All fall short.

This blog is anchored in acknowledging and sharing—and perhaps even finding some community in—that juggle struggle that so many of us are mired in. Frequently along with that struggle comes a big, fat dose of guilt. Come on…you know what I’m talking about…That grand feeling that you are shortchanging EVERYTHING in your life. Need to work? Fine, but your kids aren’t going to be this age forever, you know. Quality time with the kids? Great. Guess that report will have to wait another day. What lovely weather—let’s go downtown! So…it looks like cleaning out the garage will have to wait until next weekend…or the next…or…

It is an endless series of trade-offs where something that should be getting attention…doesn’t. It’s where phrases like “Mom, you said ‘soon’ a while ago…but when are you really going to be done?” and “We are way passed deadline on this project” get pasted into a lovely scrapbook of “Not Enough.” And if you cannot relate to this scenario that I am trying to illustrate, then you are reading the wrong post, my friend. As for me, if guilt were people, I’d be China.

So…I just totally bummed myself out writing this. Is there any hope? Well, there are certainly countless places where you can find information on time management and organization, and many have some very helpful tips and ideas that can indeed result in better use of time. But I have yet to find an escape from this Guilt Trip I’m on. So why am I even writing on this then? Because I want to share with you a saving grace that I try to remind myself of when I feel particularly pulled in the juggle struggle: It’s okay. You are blessed to have so many tugs in life. Don’t let it push you over the Insanity Cliff. Maybe to the edge…but not over. You are still okay even if you universally suck at everything. 

See??? See how that does the trick?? Okay, maybe I won’t win any awards in motivational speaking, but the truth is, it is okay. Really, people. We cannot be all things to all people. hbrnI_SlMa_80Quit trying to kick your own behind. God made it physically impossible to do that to yourself, so why are you trying to go beyond God’s design? All we can do is try and love, and get up tomorrow and try and love some more. So as the start of 2013 makes us magically feel like we have a chance at a clean slate for many things in our lives, let one of them be that it’s okay to fall short. Just get back up and keep trying and loving some more.

Fra GEE lay

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 6 Comments

Thanks to A Christmas Story, I can never see the word “fragile” without pronouncing it fraGEElay in my head. And on this Christmas Eve, things can indeed be fragile…huge ToDo lists…family gatherings…full schedules…exhausted parents trying to provide the “perfect”  Christmas for their kids…It can get messy and broken pretty quickly. So as you would with fragile things, be gentle. Continue reading “Fra GEE lay” →

Making Non-Sense

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 3 Comments

Though The Juggle Struggle aims to be a generally lighthearted and hopefully humorous blog, I just can’t bring it today.

Often what we juggle as people isn’t the least bit lighthearted. Charlotte, Daniel, Rachel, Olivia, Josephine, Ana, Dylan, Dawn, Madeleine, Catherine, Chase, Jesse, James, Grace, Anne Marie, Emilie, Jack, Noah, Caroline, Jessica, Avielle, Lauren, Mary, Victoria, Benjamin, and Allison aren’t here anymore. Their lives—so many of them only just beginning—snuffed out by one person’s unfathomable actions. And their families and loved ones are dealing with devastating losses that have forever changed them. I, like the rest of the world, am struggling to deal with the recent horrific tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut.

I struggle with my feelings of both deep sorrow and fierce anger.

I struggle with what to tell my child about such an abominable event, knowing I can’t protect him completely from the harsh and bitter realities that life sometimes presents.

I struggle with what this all means in our world, and what we need to do to make it harder for another lost soul to wreak such havoc.

I struggle with feelings of helplessness.

And I struggle with the guilt of knowing my life will absorb this blow a lot differently than the parents of the 20 children who watched all the other families get reunited with their kids while they waited…and waited…and then were told that their little one was dead. My heart breaks over and over again as I try to put myself in their shoes.

The families of the heroic adult victims, too, are also dealing with such painful loss.

So where do we go from here?

I’m not really sure, but I know that in today’s rabid hyper media attention of such tragedies, I am thankful that one of the aspects they are reporting on is that the Newtown area is steeped in faith. And though faith won’t “explain away” such horror, I believe it is what sustains us and is the foundation to rebuilding broken lives. And hearing our president, as he offered his sympathies, quote Psalm 147—reminding us that God “heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds”—was something I needed to hear in that moment.

Though I don’t fancy myself to have “the” answers, I do know that we need to be better to one another. We need to love and listen. We need to give and support. We need to forgive and remember. We need to work together to provide a safer world for all of us.

And we need to remember that life is a gift and not a guarantee.

Ask Dad. He Knows.

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 7 Comments
Two cents' worth of shoelaces?
Two cents’ worth of shoelaces?

I fell in love with the movie It’s a Wonderful Life when I was just a little girl. Back then, they showed it numerous times during the holiday season, and it’s a safe estimate to say I’ve seen it close to 100 times…so I’m a tad familiar with it. I think most people are familiar with it, too, as well as the main themes of the movie. The ideas of “Each man’s life touches so many other lives” and “No man is a failure who has friends” are the one-two punches of the movie and still so relevant today.

But there’s lots more to be learned in this lovely movie, too—like don’t ride your shovel onto thin ice…a turntable can make one helluva rotisserie…whispering into someone’s deaf ear is a great way to admit your love without having them know it…it’s best to periodically check the floor when dancing…and the valuable tip from Uncle Billy that has served me so well in life: when drunk and in doubt, choose the middle hat.

Think you might be on your way to deliver poison? Best ask Dad.
Think you might be on your way to deliver poison? Best ask Dad.

Indeed, the film is loaded with life lessons, but there’s one in particular that I want to take a moment with, and the title of this post probably already clued you in. Ask Dad. He knows. When George is presented with the problem of delivering what he knows to be deadly “medicine,” he barges into a meeting and attempts to ask his dad what to do. Of course, later in the film you can connect the dots to know that the dad he really needs to ask about his big problems is The Dad of All, but his earthly one is pretty damned important, too. In fact, when George’s dad dies, it ends up shaping the rest of his life.

When I began my love affair with IAWL as a child, I had no idea the parallels that George Bailey and I would have, with a key one being that my dad died just about the same time of life as Peter Bailey left George. His chances to ask his dad disappeared, as did mine.

And, oh, the things I would have loved to ask my dad…Of course, plenty of serious life issues, but lots of others, too. Like how was “Oh, I trust you, it’s just your date that I don’t trust…” supposed to ever even appear fair? And why didn’t you wear shorts except for swimming? And couldn’t you have used another comparison instead of “poodle” when I got that one perm in junior high?

For the years lived without him, lots of questions from my 20s would have begun, “Dad, why do guys…?” and there’d be the specific one that asked, “What do you think of this guy?” In my 30s, I know one question would have been, “How do you like your new grandson?” And now in my 40s, I still find myself wondering, “what would Dad have thought?” about any variety of things.

But all of these questions are no longer possible to ask. So, my friends, I want to encourage you: if you still can, ask Dad—and ask Mom, too. From the silly to the serious, if you don’t ask…you’ll never know. Don’t let them take too many answers with them. After all, it IS a wonderful life, and the more we learn about and love one another, the better.