dare to dream

Kirsten Monson: Lifting Lives Through Handicrafts

Kirsten Monson has lived in many places, both in the US and abroad, and currently lives in Lausanne, Switzerland, where she loves being a stay-at-home mom for five wonderful children, ages 2-13.   Kirsten holds a B.S. in statistics, and has run her own preschool in Boston, Minneapolis, and Switzerland.  Her many travels around the globe have prompted her to start Elevita, a non-profit that helps artisans in developing countries find a broader market for their products; 100% of the proceeds go to humanitarian projects, especially education.  

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When I was 10 years old, my grandmother (Mutti) traveled to India.  She returned with a trove of treasures, trinkets, images, and stories that made an indelible impression on me.  Perhaps most memorable were the stories of intense poverty:  Mutti related how she was often thronged by dozens of barefoot children begging for some small handout, and indeed, she tried to distribute everything she had in her purse:  pens, pencils, coins, candies, gum--everything, that is, except her last pen.  Retaining the pen was something I couldn't quite understand, though of course Mutti explained that she needed it to write.  With my simplistic 10-year-old vision, I determined that someday, I would like to travel to India myself and pass out pens to children.  Though I never forgot it, this particular dream lay dormant for many years.

Recently, my husband, Keyne (pronounced Keen), began doing some medical device work in developing markets, including India.  Hearing Keyne relay stories of the tragic poverty he witnessed brought back memories of Mutti's stories, and I felt a STRONG desire to go and see for myself.  The optimist in me believed that if I could actually go and see, I would be able to find something to do to help.  I finally made it to India in May, 2010.

The number of people in India living on less than $2 of income a day is greater than the entire population of the USA.  There are many examples of scenes from our trip that tugged at our emotions:  We witnessed a father tucking in his weary children on a broken cardboard box under a busy overpass in downtown Mumbai; we saw village children wearing nothing but rags while in search of that day’s meal; and we saw destitute families living under canopies with no hope for a better future.  Yet overlaid with these scenes we discovered an amazing country full of kind, beautiful people, who made vibrant, impressive handicrafts.  Unfortunately, however, there seemed to be very few people interested in buying these goods.

The entire trip I had one burning question in my mind:  What is it these people need to pull themselves out of poverty and embark on the road to prosperity?  I knew the answer to this question would be life-changing.  On the plane on the way home, the thought occurred to me:  the regions I visited were definitely not lacking in marketable skills; people simply needed more opportunity to share their wonderful talents.

So Elevita was born.  As soon as I returned home, I began to recontact my favorite artisans and see if I could buy goods from them in quantity.  I knew enough about economics to realize that the ripple effects on their villages would be tremendous.  I also began to search out artisans in other developing countries who could use some help gaining access to markets.  By the end of the summer, we had assembled our first group of artisans, organized funding, achieved non-profit status, and built a website: Elevita.com.

The girls that earnings from Elevita will help to educate

The name "Elevita" implies "Lifting Life."  Hence our slogan, "Improving Lives Worldwide."  Not only does this project benefit the artisans we try to support, but simultaneously 100% of the profits from our sales are going toward humanitarian projects, especially in education.  Right now we are raising money to build a hostel so that girls from rural Indian villages can have the opportunity to attend Secondary School.  And of course those who purchase from Elevita also benefit!  They acquire beautiful handmade goods from all over the world, and they become aware of a simple way to help others fulfill their own dreams.

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When I asked Kirsten about her favorite handicrafts, she mentioned two:

One of my favorites is the Ladybug bracelet.  This is a bracelet made by village women in the Himilayas who carefully collect tree resin, and then shape it, dry it, and polish it into beads.  These women live difficult, somewhat primitive lives, but after they finish their household chores, they take time for this ethnic craft so they can supplement the meager income of their families.  I love this item because it embodies the concept that ambitious people can use the few resources available to them to make something of value to others.

I also love the Swaroopi bag.  Swaroopi is a woman who had the good fortune of being taken in by the Nila Moti Foundation--another organization that helps women from all castes fulfill their dreams.  Here in this encouraging environment, Swaroopi designed this incredible luxury silk bag.

What are your favorite items on Elevita?

Is there an experience of one of your parents or grandparents that has been formative for you?  Helping to shape your dreams?

Do you know of something that someone does well, but few know of their skill?  Just as Kirsten is helping others to know about the beautiful work of artisans in India, Ghana, Haiti, etc, is there anyone's work that you can champion?  Whether artisans in India, a fellow dreamer, a child?

Emily Nielson: The Beauty of Seasons

Emily Nielson grew up in Utah and has spent her adult life living in Massachusetts and New Mexico. She has a B.A. from the University of Massachusetts-Boston in Music with an emphasis in Vocal Studies. She is deeply interested in educating her children, and has many passions and hobbies including writing, reading, various musical pursuits, learning new things, and anything that helps her be a better mom and wife. She currently lives in Albuquerque, NM, with her husband and four children.

On an average fall day, if you happened to be looking for me, you might find me in my garden, tasting, smelling, and enjoying. I love my garden in the fall so much that I sneak out there in the middle of the day just to LOOK at it. I absolutely love the little hand-created rows and mounds, broken and split by strong stalks of green leading up to some succulent, ripe plant: tomato, chard, cucumber, pumpkin, zucchini, yellow squash, and green bean – just to mention some of my favorites. When I’m there, I honestly feel like I’m living a hundred years ago and I could just plunk right down in the middle of a Laura Ingalls Wilder novel.  One minute I’m holding a big bowl spilling over with vegetables, and before you know it my imagination goes crazy and I’m churning homemade butter and tapping a maple for syrup in a long, wistful dress.

Really, my mind goes there. But it’s not just me that loves the garden; at any given time there might be a child of mine with a handful of green beans and seedy tomato juice dripping everywhere enjoying it, too. Or there might be a husband. Or a cat (although I think the cat is enjoying mice in the garden, not the vegetables…). Basically, our garden is kind of an extension of our home, lots of good food and love.

Source:  istockphoto

In years past, either my husband or I have taken charge of the garden, depending on who had more time and energy that year to be the garden’s “keeper.” That person plans the garden, plants it (with the help of the family), and is constantly aware of the general well-being of the garden. Seems simple enough, right? Well, I discovered it’s not that simple, and this year my garden is very different, for a reason you probably wouldn’t expect. In February, I suffered a miscarriage at 16 weeks gestation.

At the time I didn’t realize it, but I believe it comes down to this. I had spent 16 weeks producing the most precious, beautiful fruit that can be produced by humankind. I had planned and nurtured and was constantly aware of the general well-being of my precious fruit. I did everything I could think of to care for my future child. Then, when I believed I had no reason not to enjoy my eventual harvest ….my precious fruit died. Just like that. No harvest, no fruit.  No sweet, soft, new baby that was mine.

Source:  istockphoto

So a few months later when my husband and I began to discuss the planting of the garden, I just felt incredibly apathetic about it. I was tired and weary. Gardens are a lot of work. But now that some time has passed, I can more clearly see my real reasons for not wanting to plant the garden. I think what was really plaguing me was that I didn’t want to put my heart and soul into nurturing something that would take a long time to grow and then might just die. So I decided I would not be the “keeper” of the garden. Well, it turned out my husband was dealing with his own sadness, and very busy with work and church service; so although I believe he really wanted to plant the garden, in the end, he wasn’t up to it either.

Ultimately, we did find the wherewithal to half-heartedly throw some small tomato plants in the ground, months later than they should have been planted, just because we really like tomatoes. But I believe the tomatoes somehow sensed our lack of caring towards them because they refused to produce their delicious fruit. They grew into big leafy plants, giving the appearance of being healthy and productive, but few blossoms grew. Oh yeah, two squash plants made it into the ground, too. Then, squash bugs (which I honestly didn’t know even existed) decimated those two lovely squash plants to shriveled, gray vines in early summer. So now, if you look in my garden, the land is barren and sparse except for a few dead plants. All summer and fall, I have missed the garden.

Source: istockphoto

This week, when I went into the backyard to grab something for the kids, my eyes wandered over to it: the faded, empty patch surrounded by ivy and multi-colored roses.  I surveyed the run-down garden plot, and again thought of the delicious food I am usually preparing with the so-much-better-tasting-than-supermarket produce. I felt the familiar pang of wishing we had taken the time to properly plant and care for the garden.

In that moment, quietly but clearly, a thought came to my mind. It was a hopeful, beautiful thought that I credit to God, although some wouldn’t. That thought was a reminder of the beauty of SEASONS. Seasons start and end, come and go. Suddenly, I realized that this season was at an end. My dirt patch of a garden, now in the beginning of November, was not barren and dead because we had neglected it, ALL the gardens right now are barren and dead because THE SEASON IS OVER. 

My mind quickly jumped to the fact that next spring was a completely NEW season, untouched by the misfortune of any past seasons. New blossoms on the trees, new seedlings sprouting, new life all around us! I can’t tell you the joy and relief that flooded my mind as I realized the value of seasons starting over and all the changes that go with them. We could start over with our wonderful garden and in just a couple of months; it could be resiliently returned to its former glory, without its holding a single grudge against us. Almost simultaneously, I realized that like our garden, my family and I could recover from our miscarriage, healed and blessed with a fresh and new perspective on life.

Source:  istockphoto

I think the most important lesson I have learned about the beauty of seasons, as I now carry another unborn child, is that while some seasons bring sadness, there are many more seasons to be lived which will bring happiness, as well. Amazingly, the bitterness of one season can lead to sweeter anticipation and sweeter enjoyment of seasons to come.  I look towards next season, eagerly hoping and praying for a wonderful, fruitful harvest, both in our garden and in our family.  In the meantime, I realize that soon this season will be gone as well, and while I might not miss it, I will always be grateful for the lessons it taught me.

What is your favorite season?  Why? 

If you have a season you don't like, can you identify why?  What would happen if you found something to embrace about that season?

I like Emily's line -- "[my garden] could be returned to its former glory without holding a single grudge against us."  Anything really stand out for you?

Do you dream best in any given season?  Why?

P.S.  You may also enjoy Farmer's Market Metaphor and Blog I LIke:  Portabellopixie

Giveaway: Shabby Apple Dress

Shabby Apple dresses has agreed to a GIVEAWAY -- and just in time for the holidays.

To be eligible to win, just leave a comment here, or on Facebook/Twitter saying which of the fifteen dresses listed below you hope to win by Monday, November 22 at midnight, and on Tuesday morning, November 23, I'll select (using random.org) and announce a winner.

Which of the dresses listed below is your favorite? 

 

1. Crouching Tiger
2. Forbidden City
3. The Last Empress
4. Shanghai
5. Mandarin Plum

OR

1. Athena
2. Five-to-Nine
3. Anchors Away
4. Duck Beach
5. Cider
6. The Traveler
7. Frida K
8. La Noche Negra
9. San Gabriel
10. Cortez

If you want to know more about Shabby Apple, here's the story of founder Athelia Woolley or you can read branding expert Avni Patel Thompson's review of the Shabby Apple brand.

Which of the above is your favorite?

Bitter or Grateful?

"You get what you get and you don't throw a fit."

I've heard this said many times.  I don't know how it's meant to be heard, but I tend to hear, "You are an ingrate.  If you were good, not bad, you would be grateful."

Sometimes it's pretty hard to be grateful, especially when a dream is deferred, derailed or dies.

Maybe we didn't get the family we wanted.
Maybe we were defrauded in a business deal.
Maybe we are getting older. 

Each of us has a dream that has gone unfulfilled. Eric Hoffer, a Depression era migratory worker wrote, "The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings."  It is sometimes terribly difficult to count our blessings, but what if we don't?

Perhaps you've heard told the story of a group of teenagers on an excursion in the desert.  One of the kids gets bitten by a rattlesnake.  Instead of immediately extracting the venom from her system, the friends go in search of the rattlesnake.  They kill it dead alright.  But when their focus turns back toward their friend, the venom has spread throughout her system, and her leg must eventually be amputated.  

When we are bitter about unfulfilled dreams, harboring a grudge toward Providence about not getting the life we wanted, even deserved -- aren't we letting venom move through our system?

I'm learning that giving thanks for the dreams that have (and have not) come true, isn't about being a good girl, or not throwing a fit.  It is an antidote to bitterness, one that allows me to survive, to prevail -- and happily -- in the life I do have.  

We need to ackowledge the loss -- we can be mad, or sad, or both, for a time.

But then we choose.

"There is always something for which to be thankful," quoth the beloved Charles Dickens.

Bitter or Grateful.

P.S.  (Added four days after the original post).  Here are some resources/ideas that will help us cultivate gratitude.

1. In Kare Anderson's post Say it So You Lift Your Spirits, she suggests that when we tell stories about our lives, we notice those incidents that are anchored with negative emotions, and then try to reframe them by searching for the redemptive details.
   
2. Check out this article titled Grateful Girlfriends Make the Best Stress Relievers, and the authors' 40-day plan to for women to talk to one another about what is right in their lives.
   

Finally, Victoria Pynchon left this comment on Facebook that I think perfectly captures what I was trying to convey in my post.  She writes: "failure to keep a daily gratitude list is the short road to one's own hell on earth."   She's right, isn't she?

Elizabeth Keeler: Confessions of a Cliff-Jumper

Elizabeth Keeler grew up on a farm in Raymond, Alberta, the second of eight children.  She holds a Bachelor of Music in Piano Performance from the University of Calgary, and a Masters degree in English Literature from the University of British Columbia.  She spent the last couple of years working as a business communications writer and teacher in Vancouver, BC.  She is currently pursuing her MBA at the Marriott School of Business at BYU.

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I don’t like extreme sports and I secretly despise people who fling themselves off cliffs in the name of leisure.  I take paranoid care of my body—I have only one chicken pox scar after 30 years in a gravitational field.  But, sometimes, when I ponder my life, I think I might be living my own version of insanity—call it “vocational cliff-jumping.”  My secret resume includes things as disparate as “pianist”, “lab chemist”, “dancer”, and “businesswoman.”  (I could throw in some other good ones, like “shoveller of dung” and “door-to-door makeup seller” but, to be fair, those weren’t career moves.)  I am constantly jumping headlong into the deep end of some new professional endeavour.  Let me further damage my credibility: I have moved 20 times to 13 cities in 4 countries in 3 continents attending 6 universities in 10 years.  Peripatetic, you might say.  “Geographic fix-it-itis” my friend’s mom diagnosed.  “You think moving from one thing to another will fix everything.”  I imagine the people speaking at my funeral saying things like: “She was confused.”  Or, “a nice girl, but her internal compass was way off.”

Source:  istockphoto

There is often internal questioning as I embark on yet another life change.  What is wrong with me?  Why can’t I stay put?  Confusion and self-doubt have been a part of every transition.  Last year, as I was contemplating forging ahead with my MBA, the questions started again: When and where will I find my bliss?  This time I got an answer, and it shocked me.   You are living it, the voice came from deep, deep, you know, very deep inside me.  Pause.  Lighted bulb.  With sudden clarity I knew I was living my dream in total perfection: I am a self-decreed explorer.  I envisioned myself wearing a captain’s hat as I steered my lone ship across the tumultuous waters of the Atlantic, a modern-day  John Cabot, Jacques Cartier, or maybe even Columbus.

That sounds cocky.  It is a little.  In my defense, I think my compulsive need to explore is not ego-driven, and I’m pretty sure it’s not because I’m a flake, or because I should see my shrink to work out my commitment issues.  I simply have a strange, primal need to go over boundaries.  I am obsessed with these invisible borders, because they are signposts for what is unrealized.  Beyond boundaries lies the dark unknown, spaces I haven’t conquered; spaces that might conquer me.  Beyond boundaries are new ideas, new creation, the fascination and shock of the hitherto unexperienced.  Rather than walk on lighted circuits, I feel compelled to go to the dark spots and put my flag down.  Call me Captain Elizabeth.  (Indulge me.)

Source:  istockphoto

While I admit there is fear associated with doing something outrageously new, fear is not my greatest deterrent to risk-taking.  My past life as a musician was like a life-time vaccination against fear.  I have yet to do anything as terrifying as play a Bach fugue for Professor Engle, who was known, on occasion, to mime cutting off my head.  I may experience terror frequently, but it’s more like an old, pesky friend.  No, my greatest deterrent, by far, is guilt.  Guilt has accompanied every life change I’ve made.  It’s as if there are voices telling me that changing makes me fickle, weak, or abnormal.  Perhaps it’s the age-old view that incontinence and irrationality are bound up in my femininity.  Changing my mind is weak, a modern-day instance of fainting in my corset.  The proper thing to do is to be still, stable, responsible.  Don’t change, don’t move, be dependable, be who you’ve always been, be found in the same space as before. 

Sometimes guilt is justified, but I have searched my soul about the wrongs of cliff-jumping, and I believe the guilt is ill-founded.  If I had acted in perfect accordance with my inherited social conscience, I would be living in rural Canada celebrating my twelve-year wedding anniversary with my husband, cows, dogs, and kids.  That may be right for some, but it would have been wrong for me, a sure recipe for socially-guilt-free misery.  So what’s the deal with my guilt?  I could expostulate on how women have historically not been risk-takers, positing ill-formed theories of cave women defending their little ones while their husbands were out bush-whacking.  But I don’t really know.  Perhaps there are evolutionary reasons for the guilt of adventure, but one thing is for sure: the flip side of the guilt-coin is stagnation.  To me, that’s the real danger.  I asked Google and it confirmed my suspicions:  

“The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing, and becomes nothing. [She] may avoid suffering and sorrow, but [she] simply cannot learn and feel and change and grow and love and live.”  (Leo Buscaglia)

Source:  istockphoto

So, while I am perplexed by the guilt, ever-present as it is, the Captain in me insists I sail in spite of it.  This week’s expedition was to enroll in the advanced private equity class offered next term.  As a classmate graciously pointed out, it’s laughable how little business I have being there.  However, what I know from being an experienced jumper is that after terror comes exhilaration, and if I’m lucky, ecstasy – the ultimate reward. 

To be clear, I am not promoting that people change jobs every year for the rest of their lives (heaven forbid).  I am merely shamelessly advocating headlong, plummeting, frontier-busting, head-shaking, free-falling adventure, however that looks, because it’s worth it.  I don’t know about you, but I intend to keep up my dirty little habit of cliff-jumping for a very long time, even at the risk of a confusing epitaph on my tombstone.

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Not infrequently I hear it said women are risk-averse.  In one sense I think that's true.  As I looked for photos of cliff jumping women, they were hard to find.  My experience, however, has been that women are actually willing to take pretty big risks.  Like Elizabeth is willing to do.

What is the most thrilling thing you've ever done?  Wasn't there actually a lot of risk involved?

Couldn't you argue that getting married is a pretty risky thing?  And if you happen to be a stay-at-home mother reliant on your husband's income, isn't that taking a risk?  What about birthing a baby? 

For more on exploration, you may want to read Eva Koleva Timothy's Lost in Learning.

Cindy Crosby: Getting smart about birth

Cindy Crosby was born in Portland, Oregon, and grew up in Chico, California.  She earned her Bachelor's degree in Humanities, with a German literature emphasis and received her Master's degree in Teaching English as a Second Language.  She loves other cultures and has enjoyed living abroad twice, first in Vienna, Austria and later Okinawa, Japan.  She is a certified Labor Doula, Childbirth Educator, and Mother to three children living in Derby, Kansas with her husband where she works from home at www.birth-smart.com.

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My oldest son was born on July 10th, 2003.

The pregnancy had been emotionally difficult as I had previously experienced three miscarriages and always had the underlyng fear that something would go wrong.  There was so much I couldn't control, I tried to focus on what I could.  I learned and prepared all I could for the experience of giving birth.  I read several books and took two different childbirth classes.  I loved learning about the fear-tension-pain cycle and how birth could be less painful if women could overcome their fear and relax.  I also thought it was interesting that our bodies produce endorphines -- natural pain killers.  I wanted to believe these ideas were true.

Source:  istockphoto

As I labored in the hospital, it was a very different experience than I had imagined years earlier.  The lights were low and soft music with birth affirmations was playing.  I remember hearing words like, "I trust my body, it knows what to do" and "My birth will be easy because I'm so relaxed."  I moved into several different positions -- kneeling on the floor and laying over a birth ball while my husband or doula massaged my back.  I also spent time in the shower and bath at various points during labor.  Nurses came in periodically to listen to my son's heartbeat.  They would say reassuring things like "he's tolerating the contractions fine."  I breathed calmly and slowly, even falling asleep between contractions, feeling very little pain.  But I was working hard, wondering for a brief moment why I wasn't relaxing with an epidural and watching movies.  After some encouragement from my husband, I again focused on my labor and was soon ready to push.

When my son was born, I was euphoric.  For the first time in my life, I felt like I had truly accomplished something.  I was thrilled that those ideas from my childbirth preparation proved true for my birth.  When I had him weighed and bathed, I was right there with him, up and walking around.  My recovery was speedy, my transition to motherhood smooth.

Seven years later, as a doula/childbirth educator, it is difficult for me to tell this story.  I try not to talk about my own experience because I don't want the mothers I serve to feel they need to make the same decisions I did.  And yet, my story is important because it's what led me to become a childbirth professional. I feel driven to help other women to feel as supported and empowered in childbirth as I did.

Source:  istockphoto

So many of the voices we hear are telling us what we can't do, either because we are not capable or because we are not allowed.  Maternity care, in particular, is impersonal and standardized.   Women are so afraid of labor, that most do not consider attempting it without an epidural.  Widespread paranoia of malpractice motivates doctors and hospitals to perform many interventions routinely in labor, despite research indicating that they are not helpful (and even harmful).

My second doula birth was a powerful learning experience.  The mom had a common variation of labor:  a baby in posterior position.  As is often the case with this variation, her labor was long.  Really long.  At one point, she went 7 hours, only dialating from 6-7cm; I would not have blamed her for a minute if she had opted for an epidural or decided to augment her labor, but she persisted in her goal for an unmedicated birth.  Despite being tired, there were no signs of distress with the baby and she continued her labor.  Eventually, the baby was born with no complications.  By the time she was born, that baby had rotated around 270 degrees through her mom's position changes and was born normally (after that very long labor).

Source:  Kimberly Mitchell Photography

At about the same time, a friend had an induction and epidural.  Her baby was also posterior, but since she was immobile, he was not able to turn as well during labor.  The doctor attempted to reach up and manually turn the baby.  He also used forceps to deliver and it was a very traumatic birth, which came close to ending in cesarean.  When I contrasted those two experiences, it was a powerful illustration of how our bodies really do work and give us the best outcomes if we trust them to do their job.  Some doctors would have been quick to label the first example as a "dysfunctional" labor, but it is clear that her labor functioned just fine; it actually worked more effectively because of not taking the more common interventive approach of modern maternity care.

Because of my background in linguistics, I find it fascinating to observe how empowering (or disempowering) our language can be.  When I work with women, I try to help them recognize that they do have choices, if they want them.  When we talk to a midwife or doctor, instead of saying, "am I allowed to birth in an upright position?" we can say, "I have been researching the benefits of giving birth in an upright position.  Would you be comfortable supporting me in that?"  You are not asking for permission; you are asking how your provider feels about an option you are considering.  Maybe he/she will think it's a great idea, maybe he/she will be uncomfortable with it.  If that is the case then the power is yours to decide how important it is to you and if you would want to compromise or change providers.  The idea is that women counsel with their providers to assist them in making choices, not make the providers decide for them.  Instead of asking, "what should I do?" we can ask "what are my options?"

Used by permission:  Kimberly Mitchell

My goal is not to teach women to disobey doctor's orders or refuse all medical treatment.  In some cases it is life-saving and necessary.  But I do want to help women to find providers they can truly trust and communicate with them in a way that will help enhance their care, so that if interventions are chosen, they can own those choices.

When I look back on my own three birth experiences, I made different choices with each one, based on my circumstances and knowledge at the time, but they were each empowering and wonderful experiences for me.  In part, because I had people who believed in me, and respected my choices.   I now have the privilege of helping other women find the way to their own best births.  That's what Birth Smart is about -- providing women with knowledge, tools, encouragement, and support.  My message to women everywhere is simply, "I believe in you".
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Was the birth of your children as you had envisioned it you would be? 

What about the birth of your dreams? 

Are you doing professionally what you studied to do?  If not, how does what you studied in school enhance your chosen career?

After you read this blog, I'd recommend you go back and read Dreaming with Moms.  There really is power in giving birth, and in being a mother.

You may also enjoy Dr. Debra Bingham's Taking Birth Back.

HBR Blog: Your Own Kind of Moneyball

My latest post at HBR:  Your Own Kind of Moneyball:  Metrics that Measure You.

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What are the right metrics to measure you?

If you are currently a full-time mother looking to enter the workforce, have you read  If You've Raised Kids, You can Manage Anything?

If your interest is piqued, you may want to read 15 for 15:  Shane Battier. 

Dreaming with moms

I attended the Power of Moms retreat in New Hampshire in part because I'm on the Advisory Board, and, in part, because my friend Margaret suggested a group of us go.  I expected to enjoy myself.  I didn't expect to be bowled over by the camaraderie I experienced with this group of thirty women, all of whom dream of being great mothers.

You can read more about the weekend from Sarah at Memories on Clover Lane and Catherine at Wild and Precious.  An extra special treat for me:  driving to and from the reteat with the tremendously bright and talented artist Leslie Graff. 

Because society doesn't always value mothering, the dream of mothering requires, more than most dreams, that we dream together.
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P.S.  For more on why the weekend may have been so meaningful, check out this article Why Sisterly Chats Make People Happier.

P.P.S. For a terrific post on the motherhood, check out Chrysula Winegar's We are Mothers.

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Do you dream of being a great mother?

How do sisterly chats help you achieve this dream?

How about you join us at the retreat next year?

Natalie Holloway: Buttoned Up Style

Natalie Holloway was born and raised in Logansport, Indiana. She holds a degree in English, has worked as an editor, and is a co-founder of Buttoned Up, a NYC-based style consulting company that believes the way a person dresses reflects how they view themselves and affects how other people view them. She currently resides with her husband, Jonathan, and dog, Lucy, in New York, New York.  After you read Natalie's story, scroll to the bottom of the post for a preview of Natalie and her business partner Casey Matheny's styling sensibility.  Then click through to their blog to ask any style-related questions you may have.
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When I was little girl, I would spend hours alone in my room playing with my Barbie dolls—although playing is not really the right word; it was more like dressing and redressing them for various events, such as prom, a tea party, a wedding, etc. As I got older, I moved on to dressing myself in my cool older sister’s clothes. I especially loved her prom dresses, complete with big shoulders, sequins, and ruffles—yes, it was the 80s.

My love for fashion and styling only increased as I got older. As I reached those formative teenage years, I appreciated how clothing could convey or influence my mood. Living in small-town Indiana, I liked to set myself apart by buying clothing that I felt represented me at the time. It was during those years that I really started thinking about and developing my style (and beginning my love affair with J. Crew).

Source: istockphoto

I left my small Hoosier town for the big world of college, where I quickly became the go-to stylist in my dorm room. My friends said I was a good stylist because I was sensitive to what looked good on all different body types. And my peers felt comfortable sharing with me their body insecurities and trusting that I would dress them to enhance their assets while camouflaging their “trouble areas.”

When one friend had a date that she was particularly nervous and excited about, I helped her create a head-to-toe look be using the clothing she already had to create an outfit she had never before thought of but looked fabulous on her. Then I added a few of my accessories (one of the best parts of having roommates is sharing clothes and jewelry, right?), and she was ready and looking fabulous! She was already a beautiful girl, but I remember her leaving for the date especially confident, which gave me a great sense of satisfaction. I loved being able to bring this added measure of joy to someone’s life, no matter how small it was.

In school I majored in English. This was a somewhat logical choice because I enjoyed reading—I still do. It was also a practical decision, as I had an eye for editing, and it seemed like it was the easier and safer route to take when thinking about employment after graduation and about a career I could pursue if I became a mother.  Simply put - I don’t think I ever felt like a career in fashion was possible, and it always seemed too impractical.


Source:  istockphoto

Since college, I have worked as an editor, and while I am a good editor and mostly enjoy the work, I don’t have a passion for it—though I have tried to convince myself that I do. So when an opportunity to move to New York came, I was eager to go. I knew the move was my chance to break into the fashion industry and further develop my expertise—including enrolling in evening classes at the Fashion Institute of Technology.

About a year after moving to the city, I began seriously considering starting a style consulting business. I had received a lot of encouragement from friends and family to pursue it, but I was scared and overwhelmed by the mechanics of starting a business.  I was especially terrified of failing, worried that if my business didn't succeed, I would let down my family, my friends, and myself.

Source:  istockphoto

I expressed these fears to my husband, who had been supportive of the idea from the beginning, and he helped me change my perspective. He told me that I would be failing if I didn’t act on my dreams.  He was right.  I would always be disappointed if didn’t give this business a shot.  I temporarily pushed aside my fear of failure—it still rears its ugly head occasionally—and set out to start my business.

Enter my friend and business partner, Casey.  She and I met in NYC through our husbands, instantly became great friends, and discovered that we had many shared dreams.  Taking on the task of starting a business seemed less scary when doing it with someone else, and Casey was the perfect partner.

We have worked hard to start our style consulting company.  Though the business is in its infancy, we are proud of what we've accomplished, and we try to celebrate any success, no matter how small. We have a long way to go, but I feel incredibly fortunate to have the chance to pursue my dream.

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Did you love to do something as a little girl, but somehow ended up majoring in or working in an entirely different field?

Can what seems to be a diversion from your dream (in Natalie's case, studying English) ultimately help you achieve your dream?  As we saw on the most recent Project Runway, Mondo Guerra, the runner-up, is a brilliant designer who hasn't learned to edit.  Albeit a different field, Natalie's brief diversion has taught her to pare things down.

Do you have someone around you to encourage you as you dream?  Could partnering with someone give your dreams momentum?

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Styling Tip from Natalie and Casey:
Menswear-inspired blazers are versatile and work for any body type, making them a great investment piece. These blazers are cut longer than traditional women’s suiting and can have a boxy silhouette, so make sure you pick a blazer that cuts in at the waist. Most major department stores carry a variety of blazers at various price points. Large specialty stores like J.Crew and the Gap also have some great options.

Here are some tips for making the look work for all occasions.

Casual
Instead of the usual cardigan, wear a blazer (with rolled sleeves) over your T-shirts, v-neck sweaters, or camisoles. Pair that with jeans and flats or boots, and you have instantly updated your everyday style without compromising your comfort.

Work
Take a break from your standard work suit by wearing a menswear-inspired blazer with a pencil skirt or trousers. You can further update your work outfits by breaking up your neutrals (e.g., wear a black blazer with gray bottoms). Add interest to the outfit by pairing your blazer with a blouse that has pattern, color, or sheen and adding some jewelry.

Evening
Add edge to your look by adding your blazer to an ultra-feminine dress. If it is a more casual date night, throw on your blazer with a flowy blouse, dark jeans, and heels.

For more fashion tips and trends, visit our blog at buttonedupstyle.com.  Or to submit your fashion related-questions, click through to their blog, and submit a question here.