It’s early am. I’m in a coffee shop preparing to do my first corporate coaching with an employee and an employer in the same room. I’m scribbling notes in a coffee shop when I get the cancellation email. That’s okay, she’s still covering my childcare expenses, so I can work on other stuff, no extra cost outlay. No extra cost outlay is one of my husband’s favorite phrases, and I have been incorporating it lately. I file for a Trademark of Lifeshop, my lil’ conceptual merger of life coaching in a playful workshop style format. I’m thinking a store with apparel and fun lifestyle products eventually. I love creating with ideas.
Life with the kids progresses about as you’d expect it to when the mom under fire is imminently occupide with with wrapping up prep for an important work project, while trying arbitrate sibling squabbles and dole out snacks. “Yes Avriana. I understand Gabe. I’m sure two peacemakers like the two of you can find a way to work it out.” I sound desperate in tone. I know it. “Just a minute.” “Uh huh.” “Yeah, look at that circle.” “Gentle with the kitty.” I am constantly turning the front burner on and off to make hot water or tea for self-soothing.
I’m getting ready to facilitate my first Lifeshop, for this fabulous one-of-a-kind woman I crossed paths with the first week our family lived in The Pearl. A fellow transplant, told about how she and her friends were training for a marathon and what that means for them as a way to tap into their strength. I offered on a whim (or an intention blinking out from its incubator,) to throw a Lifeshop for her and her friends as a charity benefit. She seemed into it. This woman also bought my kids cookies to last a week.
As I hop between pouring various beverages or fetching food items from the fridge and fine-tuning my outline, I make a note to self: prepare further in advance; set intention to be fully present with the kids even when feeling nervous in a type A sort of way.
When my evening caregiver comes over, we chat a bit and she encourages me. “It’ll be fine. It’ll be great.” She’s the sitter that’s getting upgraded from caregiver to friend.
I place all my stuff into a Trader Joes bag: Poster board, pens, skinny pieces of blank paper that I cut earlier, letter size blank paper, a glue stuck, rack cards, business cards and a jar of mostly-eaten Hemspread to spoon-feed myself at the Park before heading by foot over to my host’s house, a few streets up.
As the evening unfolds, augmented by a gourmet platter of grapes, cheeses partnered with perfect cheese knives, wine and cakes, what strikes me most about this intimate group of six high-power professional women is their virtual starvation to connect deeply and openly with one another. I lead and facilitate and offer a space; they seem happy to, in some senses ignore me and gnaw into the important places of their lives and souls that have been dealt with in isolation. Highly successful women ranging from 30s to 50s confess all sorts of wild fantasies, insecurities and intimate life situations. They encourage each other’ self-esteem and support each other with a motto that emerges from one of the participants: YDB. You deserve better.
When all is said and done, I walk downstairs, out of the posh buildling into the night, foggy headed and tired, fulfilled and longing for sleep. I walk home on the lonely streets, with only the occasional pedestrian or car in this quiet neighborhood and I’m glad I live in The Pearl, where I’m pretty sure I’ll make it home fine, which I do.
I crawl in bed and wrap around my 98% asleep husband and smile a prayer of thanks for this wonderful person I am lucky enough to snuggle as my own life partner. He snuggles into me too and a smile like mine creeps across his adorable, mostly sleeping face. Life is good.
