Chapters, Seasons, and Segments

I have the privilege of sitting within a five-foot radius of two spectacular women. We love HANSA but the private quarters are tight. Generously, I’ll say I’m slightly older than they are, and the differences in our family dynamics and priorities are on full display most days. Whatever term you prefer, chapters, seasons, segments, ours are clearly out of alignment. And, as Martha Stewart (whose TV series carried me through my maternity leave chapter) would say, that is a very good thing.

Morning Madness

I have the much-appreciated luxury of arriving at the office first most mornings. Down to one teenage child still at home, mornings are no longer my responsibility. I take a yoga class, stroll in with pressed clothing, a Starbucks in hand, and scroll through texts while easing into the day. I get a full hour of calm, music of my choosing, a loosely organized to-do list, and a sense of control.

Meanwhile, my partners in crime are wrangling small humans into snow clothes, managing whatever virus is making its rounds, navigating the occasionally teary drop-off, and sometimes—just sometimes—turning around an hour later to retrieve a vomit-covered child. Mornings are… not their friend. Let’s just say, sometimes wrinkle free wardrobe choices are their best friend. (Though Maggie may object because they are not earth friendly.)

Daytime Dilemmas

Around 11 a.m., when my colleagues (assuming no illness detours) are finally “locked in” (a favorite WindsorTurner phrase), my day takes a turn, because that’s when my three children, teens and twenty somethings, really get going.

Eldest child, via text: “When are taxes due?” Me: “Tomorrow.” Child: “Do you have my H&R Block login?” Me: frantically searching for last year’s password.

Middle child, via phone: “Did you book my flights home this summer?” Me: “No, you should do that … you know your schedule.” Them: “Can you just do it? I have class.” Me: now scrolling Kayak for flights that apparently no longer come at reasonable prices.

Youngest child, via a friend’s phone: “Can you bring my charger? My phone’s dead. This is Payton, BTW.” Me: “No, I’m working.” Them: “Can you bring it at lunch?” Me: calling my husband to see if he can bring the charger.

Evening Negotiations

Evenings vary, but the themes are familiar. My colleagues are deep in the chapter of organized chaos, balancing nutrition with ever-changing toddler preferences. I’m navigating a different kind of chaos: negotiating ten minutes of screen-free time in a world dominated by Snapchat.

They’re debating who will walk the dog or feed the cat. I’m debating whether we’re listening to NPR’s Marketplace or my husband’s classic vinyl playlist. Across the board, we’re all trying to balance the ideal of a healthy, home-cooked meal with the very real convenience of “click, click and its Uber Eats.”

Weekend Warriors

My colleagues spend weekends on seasonal walks, backyard play, and community family events. Meanwhile, my husband and I have slowly been demoted to background characters in our children’s weekend plans. We’re no longer expected to make pancakes at dawn, but we do miss those early mornings at soccer fields and hockey rinks.

(At this point, we’re considering inviting ourselves over to someone else’s pancake breakfast.)

So You think You’ve Got Problems?

You know the saying: little kids, little problems; big kids, big problems. In our small office, conversations carry. While I’m reassuring a child that being waitlisted from their top-choice college is not the end of the world, my colleagues are explaining—convincingly, I hope, why bugs really are not to be scared of.

And Why Again Is This A Very Good Thing?

Here’s the point: we are all living in different chapters of our lives. But as colleagues, and especially within a small business setting, we have the opportunity to support each other and, to appreciate these experiences, some of which are chapters that have not arrived yet, through each other’s eyes.

Some days, I would give anything to go back to pancake Saturdays. And I’m quite sure there are days when my colleagues would love to casually stroll into a yoga class before work.

But there are also days when despite the lack of morning demands, I still need the grace of my team, like when a child early in their career needs a pre-interview pep talk right as I’m supposed to be on a conference call, and someone else steps in. And I try to return that same grace when a sick child needs to be picked up and I take the reins.

Because at the end of the day, as women, as parents, as business owners—as humans—we are in the business of humanity. And we miss the mark entirely if we fail to support each other through the different chapters and seasons we’re all navigating.