Interviews and Affirmations

Last week, I had a phone interview with a reporter from a major media company.

Hopefully soon, I will be able to blog about how the opportunity came about, and how one of my kids needs to be a reality TV star, but for now, that will have to wait, at the reporter’s request. Mums the word.  

What I really want to talk about though is the interviewer and how one random e-mail she sent, made me stop and think.

And trust me. It takes a lot for an e-mail, of all things, to make me stop and think.

I received the request to do the interview early in the morning. I had, in fact, just plastered my wet hair with hair products.

Ya’ll know my Kate-do and all: if I don’t blow dry my buzz cut within a few minutes of adding hair products, that hair ain’t working, and bad hair doesn’t even begin to describe it the final results.

I asked the reporter if she could give me a few minutes to blow dry my hair, and then I could chat for a minute.

Yes, I asked a reporter from a well-known company to hold off on her interview for five minutes while I blow-dried my hair. I either have nerves of steel or I’m flat crazy, and we all know which one it is.

She was very understanding, and like clockwork she called a few minutes later.

I’d had my coffee by that point, of course. I am sure she was thinking I had a caffiene IV running through my veins. Ya’ll know me: reporter? interview? Off I went, chatting away like I’d known her my whole life. We tend to do that in the south. At least I do. Within minutes, I’m sure she was making mental notes about the insane southern woman she had just unearthed.

Afterward, I sent her an e-mail thank you note. My mama raised me right. Even if it was an e-mail and not handwritten note, I know to thank a reporter for listening to me rattle on about my crazy life.

And here’s where I’ve been heading with this post, (yep, there’s a point.)

Her reply back to my thank you note said this:

“Shannon, I think your sons are very, very lucky.

Gotta gel down my hair and rush off…talk/type to you soon.”

That’s it. Two lines. And it made my day in ways I cannot really explain.

(I think it was the second ‘lucky’ in her e-mail that made me smile the most. Not just one ‘lucky.’ Two. I wonder if I could pay her to let the little Things know how ‘lucky’ they are?)

I may never hear from her again. I had just seen her name for the first time three hours earlier.

But somehow, reading those two lines from another mom was like a secret handshake, a quiet nod of the head, a short but sincere message from a fellow team member saying, ‘you’re doing an okay job.’

Find a mom, any mom, and we are our own worst critics.

It doesn’t matter if you work or stay at home, have one kid or five, are married or single.

We are relentlessly hard on ourselves, always finding our faults, rarely stopping to notice the rewards of our efforts.

And that two-line e-mail from someone, essentially a stranger, those few written words, somehow gave me enough affirmation about my own daily mom struggles to hold me over for awhile.

At least until the next time Chase misses the bus. Or Jordan starts proclaiming body aches.

When was the last time you told a mom what a great job she’s doing? No flowers, no lunch, not even a Hallmark greeting.

Think about the last time you told a mom ‘hey, your kids are very, very lucky.’

You should try it.

I bet it will make your day, and hers.

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