Prepare To Launch U Blog

After a year of hearing a continuous loop of “you’ll never look back” and “you’ll love it”, I still have a hard time recognizing the “benefits’” of my newly empty nest. I’m still looking back, and I don’t love it yet. Rather than joy for long-awaited freedom, what I’ve felt most is loss – the loss of four children, born close in age, and gone – it seemed – all at once. I loved being a mom; I didn’t want to be a free bird.

But “free” I am, and I’m now well into my second year of it. That is, until 2 weeks ago when COVID-19 brought three of my children home to (relative) safety.

You know those women who plan out their lives and everything goes pretty much according to schedule? Well, I’m not one of them. If you read my blog, you know that I call myself an “accidental businessperson” and that I’m a mom who had four kids in six years, the youngest of whom I birthed the day after getting the cast removed from my broken left leg. (I won’t say how I broke it, but it had something to do with being up in a tree). I thrive in chaos and prefer my ‘schedules’ (if I have them at all) to be loose.

It made perfect (but painful) sense, therefore, that my first pregnancy didn’t follow any conventional plan.

When I launched my first business, Be You Bravely, after years of being a stay-at-home mom I was terrified. I was taking a leap of faith, pivoting from the world of education into an arena that was, well, not so defined. I knew what I had to offer had great value, life-changing value actually, but the success of growing a viable business was not certain and that uncertainty was terrifying. During those early days there were many moments when I said to myself, “Kelley why did you not just go back to education?” A job in education came with benefits, a steady paycheck and a predictable schedule. Educational consulting was an even better option with lucrative pay and plenty of client connections. This business I was launching came with none of that. The personal risk was also overwhelming. I was in an extremely defined role at home. I did just…

“What can I do to help?” These words spoken from young lips are music to any mother’s ears. I have four children, 22 nieces and nephews, and 9 godchildren, so the odds are favorable that I hear that phrase on occasion. It always warms my heart.

We hosted 40 for Thanksgiving last week. The shear number of our gathering is testament to our many blessings and our many reasons to be thankful. Twenty-seven of our family stayed overnight, and 17 of them were “the kids”. (I use quote marks because some of them are technically adults now). As I savored many moments of “Aunt Susan, how can I help?” I pondered the significance of their question in the context of my work.

I began my career in Xerox Corporation’s executive training program, which, in the mid-80s, was reputed to be one of the top three executive training programs of the time. How I, an English major who never took a business course and didn’t know a balance sheet from a cookie sheet ended up there is another story for another blog post.

Suffice it to say, I interviewed really well.

There were about 15 or so trainees in my training class year – a collection of lively, confident, competitive achievers of which only a portion were expected to last beyond 12 months. On my first day, I met Sherrie Potenza. Nothing in Sherrie’s and my histories matched up. Being Connecticut natives and part of this training program was about all we had in common. But it was enough. Sherrie and I became fast friends, partners in crime. Ultimately, we became each other’s lifelines.

My first year as a teacher I had 29 students in my 3rd grade classroom. Seventeen of those students were the cutest, most high-energy boys you could ever encounter. The school district was financially struggling and there was no class-size policy in place. I was hired because the previous teacher took early retirement, as she knew what she would be facing in the fall. I was so grateful to have gotten the position straight out of college that I resolved myself to the fact that there was no room to complain. I was tossed in the deep end and it was one of those life “sink or swim” moments. I was determined not to sink.

I knew I had to find a mentor fast. My principal assigned me to a well-respected teacher I met during my interview process. She was organized, dedicated and filled with a wealth of knowledge. I was so grateful to have a wise mind guide me and support me during those early days. I am convinced I may have left teaching all together in that first month had it not been for her. This is something I told her and our administration often. 

Raise your hand if you’ve had a conversation in your lifetime that would qualify more as a defining moment than a conversation. Yes? Then you will know exactly where I’m coming from with the story I am about to tell.

I am newly independent, but I’m not celebrating. On Monday, my husband Bob and I joined the ranks of empty-nesters when we dropped our son Luke off at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. His departure was early (6:00 a.m.) and abrupt (30 seconds to say ‘goodbye’), and the separation feels permanent. Luke is no longer ours, I’ve been told by those in the know. “He belongs to the army.” Ouch.

How are you feeling these days? Energized? Full of life? Ready to hit one out of the park? OR Maybe you are feeling just the opposite…Like you are on a treadmill that just won’t stop.