Archives for 2018

Gratitude and Garlic Mashed Potatoes

November 22, 2018 By Kathie Z

It’s Thanksgiving morning and I’m enjoying the special quiet that comes with being the only one awake. Even the dog, snuggled up close is snoozing.

While I enjoy my second cup of coffee, I can’t help but reflect, count myself among the blessed. Both of my children are home. All are well in our house.

In a few hours, the four of us will be heading to my parents’ house for a day-long feast. We’ll join my parents, siblings, their spouses and children. We will assemble as a family (minus my brother and sister-in-law, my nieces and nephew) once again. It will be a long, noisy day, so for the moment I’m enjoying my solitude. Bathing in the quiet. Feeling grateful.

Grateful for the family I will see today. Grateful for the family who will be celebrating with others. Grateful for the friends near and far. Grateful for the love that connects us all.

If I were to continue listing all of the people and things to be grateful for this year, I’d stay in this space for who knows how long? And the mashed potatoes, my contribution to our family feast wouldn’t get made. Aside from my daughters’ amazing scratch made pies and pumpkin cheesecake, my mother (with great help from my sister) insists on making everything herself. Except for the mashed potatoes. My mashed potatoes. Which are actually smashed with garlic. Which have grown in quantity from three pounds to five.

This year there will be some empty chairs. And we’ll miss those absent. A lot. But we’ll still feel grateful. Grateful for each other. Grateful for the amazing food. Grateful for…

Because like garlic smashed potatoes, you can never have too much gratitude.

©Kathie Z.

NO-vember Challenges

November 9, 2018 By Kathie Z

It’s November. The month that makes me freak out a little. The hours of sunlight shorten. The to-dos seem to grow like gremlins fed after midnight. And my enemy perfection tries to creep its ugly little self back into my being in teeny-tiny ways.

In November, life seems to speed up for me. There’s so much to do in the 30 days that are already flying by. So much to accomplish.

Somehow November has shifted from a lull between back to school and winter holidays to an amped-up take the challenge month. The challenge to do, more be more. Now! In the past few days, I’ve received emails and messages encouraging me to jump in; amp up my gratitude practice, up my exercise routine, get that novel written. Instead of inspired, I’m feeling exhausted. Tempted to throw the blankets over my head and say, “wake me in January.”

November has always been a stress trigger for me. It starts with my husband’s birthday, the official start to the holiday season for our family. For as long as I’ve known him, November has been “birthday month.” From the first dinner served on the red birthday plate at his dad’s house to the annual attempt at recreating Grandma Ellie’s famous seven layer cake at his mom’s, the birthday expectation was set. And the pressure I’ve felt to deliver for his birthday hasn’t dissipated in the nearly three decades we’ve been together. Although, full disclosure: he’s always been happy with whatever or nothing at all, wrapped up prettily or handed over in the crinkly bag from the store.

This year is different, though. It’s the first he’ll be celebrating without either of his parents. Which is difficult.

The girls and I have decided to try to reinvent “birthday month” with small gestures to fill the void. And it’s been a challenge. And that got me thinking, reflecting. It has been one challenging year already. I simply have no more room on my plate.

So I’ve made the bold decision to say NO, declare this month NO-vember. Because I am choosing to say no, thank you. To each and every tempting challenge. I’d love to, but I simply can’t right now. Won’t.

Life has shown me that challenges will continue presenting themselves. Similarly, there will always be opportunities for improvement, invitations to do more, be more. But for now, I’m doing enough. I am enough. And I’m succeeding. (In a messy, imperfect, doing the best I can kind of way).

Because in spite of everything, I’m still acutely aware of the things that are good. And I’m grateful.

To all of you invested in November challenges, I wish you the best of luck. Sincerely. I’ll catch you next time. Maybe.

©Kathie Z.

A Walk in the Woods

November 3, 2018 By Kathie Z

Sometimes we just need a break. I came to this epiphany following quite a week. Personally and professionally, it had been. A. Week. Busy, busy, busy. And utterly exhausting.

Work-wise, it was conference week. Three days of meetings to discuss achievement, concerns, and set goals. Sandwiched around an abbreviated teaching day (in which we try to accomplish some serious learning).

I truly enjoy parent-teacher conferences. Each meeting is an opportunity to sit with the most invested stakeholders, the parents, and be reminded we’re in this together. All of us sitting at the table want the same thing; the best year for the child. As our 20 minute meeting progresses, the love parents feel for their children fills the room. I’m reminded of precisely why I’ve chosen this career.

During my last conference of day two, my cell phone rang. The parent asked if I needed to get the phone, her conference had run long. “No,” I said. It could wait. When I checked my phone, I saw my younger daughter had called. Needless to say, her calling mid-week is out of the ordinary. She’s our Friday night or Saturday morning caller. Nothing more than a texter mid-week.

I called my daughter back the moment the parent left. She was upset. She’d had an accident, was injured. The university doctor said a week away from school would be the best thing for her healing.

She’d been in a car accident in high school and suffered a horrible injury. I knew the importance of swift treatment. I shifted from teacher to parent, went into action mode. We needed to get our kid home as soon as possible, have her seen by her primary doctor. The following 24 hours were a whirlwind. After a jam-packed day of work, my husband and I made the 500 mile trip to fetch our daughter and bring her home to start the healing process.

Our doctor confirmed what the university doctor had said. She needed rest. And nothing else. No screens or media were permitted. No television watching, no book reading, no podcast or music listening. She needed quiet rest. While she napped and snuggled with the dog, I cleaned, did laundry and tried to stay quiet.

Outside our cozy little house, it was storming. I was beginning to feel dark, unsettled like the weather.

I tried to stay quietly busy. I roasted a chicken, filled the house with the comforting smells of home. We carved pumpkins to place on the stoop to welcome trick or treaters. But still, I felt less than great.

Sunday morning the sun rose and the yellow leaves swayed in the breeze. The outside was calling.

“We should forest bathe,” I said to my daughter.

“What?” she asked.

“Go for a walk in the woods,” I clarified. “Take a hike.”

“Definitely,” she agreed.

We loaded the dog into the car and headed for woods. It had been a few years since we’d hiked here, a favorite from days ago when the kids were small, the dog was a puppy. As we made our way onto the path, my daughter and I chatted, reminisced about time spent here with friends. We took in the beauty of the woods, noticed the loamy soil below our feet.

A happy kindness rock we found beside the path.

We made our way along the familiar path. Out of nowhere, an enormous Labrador came barreling towards us, barking, tail wagging. “He’s friendly,” a woman called, running to catch up. We introduced our dogs, chatted for a moment then continued on our walks.

With each step, my tension dissipated, was replaced with feelings of peace. And a true sense of gratitude. Gratitude for the beauty of nature, the opportunity to get away from it all minutes from my house, the gift of walking with my nearly grown daughter and just be. In the company of nature and other solace seekers.

As we made our way around the trail, a bright object caught my eye. Then another. Hand painted kindness rocks children had left beside the path. Pink and orange and purple reminders of goodness. Hope. Optimism. Healing.

The rocks decorated with fluorescent paint and children’s handwriting shifted our moods, buoyed us. We made our way back towards the road, met another dog walker. “Is he friendly?” the man called. “He is,” I shouted back. Once again, dog introductions were made, wishes for a good walk exchanged.

And just like that, the magic of the woods had shifted everything. I was reminded of the gifts of quiet, connection, and gratitude available to each of us.

©Kathie Z.

The Power to Choose Our Feelings

October 21, 2018 By Kathie Z

A few years back, I heard this quote, “Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt, I thought, wow. That’s some powerful stuff. You go, Eleanor. I loved the idea of holding one’s own space. I was at a point in my life where I’d become comfortable with my adult self and I found this quote inspiring.

But lately, this quote has been bothering me. As a mother and educator of small children, I’ve been thinking, now wait a minute, Eleanor. Were you suggesting what I think you were? That each of us is solely responsible for our self-esteem? Maybe grown people, adults. What about the children?

I knew Eleanor was an advocate for children. Perhaps, I thought, I’d been reading the quote wrong, attributing meaning where there was none. So, I did what I so often do when something bugs me, I go in search of information. Which means I did a quick Google search. And I found a story tied to this quote on the website, quoteinvestigator.

Mrs. Roosevelt’s original quote, it seems, had been part of a longer response to a reporter’s question about a situation where snub may or may not have occurred to a government official. When Mrs. Roosevelt was asked to weigh in on the situation, she (in my opinion) answered quite diplomatically. First, she said (and I’m paraphrasing) the snub had to have been made intentionally in order for it to have even been perceived as a snub. Mrs. Roosevelt went on to say that when we, the ones on the receiving end of a confusing, possibly offensive interaction are feeling unsure of ourselves, it is easy to feel insulted, marginalized.

In essence, she was saying we have the power to let a comment or action grow, become “a thing,” which can make us feel poorly about ourselves. But when we feel confident, know where we stand, we can laugh at remarks, brush off slights, render them powerless. A few years later, the website said, her remarks were shortened in a Reader’s Digest story, distilled into the famous quote that’s been bugging me so much lately. Hmm.

After mulling it over, I think Eleanor demonstrated kindness and empowerment. How can we ever know the intent of another without asking? But so often we jump to conclusions. Create narratives to explain our feelings away. And in the process, we choose to give our power away, we choose to feel offended.

Going further, I think what Eleanor was essentially saying was that sometimes people do or say things intentionally that make us feel bad. Other times, though, the things people say or do that make us feel crummy are completely unintended. Thoughtless comments, brain-cramps, social whoops.

And it’s up to us, completely in our control, to determine the motivation of the other. Choose how we’re going to respond. Or not respond. We can deem the other person offensive and reestablish a boundary line, disengage or we can recognize their misstep as nothing more than a mistake, choose to meet them with compassion. It’s completely up to us. We can choose to be offended or just to let it go. Wowsa. That’s some serious empowerment! And such a great lesson to teach our kids.

Because think about it; when our kids hurt, we feel their pain just as acutely, sometimes even more. The birthday party our child wasn’t invited to, the recess when there was “nobody” to play with, the playdate our child heard happened without them. All of these things happen. None of them are pleasant. But we adults have the choice to interpret as the incident as a slight or a non-event. And teach our children that they, too, have the power to reflect, feel and choose to feel good about themselves anyway.

In the age of technology and social media, where every moment is shared, it’s so incredibly easy to feel snubbed, question ourselves. And when the icky feelings get stirred up, we need to remind our kids and ourselves of Eleanor’s impactful words. Remember each of us has the power to choose how to feel.

©Kathie Z.

A Birthday Gift

October 13, 2018 By Kathie Z

It’s a cold, rainy, autumn New England day. A stay in your pjs, sip tea kind of day. The kind of day that invites quiet contemplation.

It just so happens today is my daughter’s birthday. It’s her 22^nd, but in a way, it’s another first.

It’s the first birthday she’s celebrating far away from us.

Coming to the realization we wouldn’t be spending this birthday with her was another reminder that she’s grown, on a journey that’s leading her to places unknown. Although I’m incredibly excited for her and the infinite possibilities that exist, I can’t help but reflect on the days gone too soon.

Remembering the bright, sunny day when she’d turned one brings a smile to my face. Dressed in black leggings, a white fleece sweater and a pair of Stride-Rite walking shoes, she’d taken her first steps. She was so proud of herself. I remember feeling a twinge sad then at how fast my baby was growing up. That memory led to the memory of her eleventh birthday. She’d been so confused when we met her at the bus, told her there was a surprise waiting at the house. When she got inside, she found a puppy; small and brown, unnamed, a bow attached to his collar. She sat on the floor, snuggled him. She was so excited, she promised, “I will never ever in my whole life ask you guys for anything else again.” We laughed, knowing her earnest promise was impossible to keep. And last year when she’d turned 21…it had been parent’s weekend at her college. The last we’d attend.

Knowing we’ll be together as a family to celebrate her birthday in a few weeks, my husband and I still wanted her to have a gift from us on her actual birthday. But what? We went back and forth discussing options. There were things every young person needs when they leave home. Things like furniture and rugs. Stuff everyone needs when they’re just starting out. But those were just “things.” Things that she’d collect piece by piece, accumulate over time. Replace when they were no longer useful.

We decided to choose the option that would bring her the most happiness.

And then it occurred to me. It didn’t matter what we sent her. Not really. Because over the course of the last 22 years, she’d received the most tremendous gift of all. From a whole bunch of us; her family, teachers, professors, mentors, and friends. Each one of us had made small contributions in the forms of encouragement, empathy, and love that had accumulated, grown-amounted to most valuable gift of all; worthiness.

Making deposits, increasing a child’s self-worth can be done quickly, simply. By sharing a kind word, a smile. Being an engaged listener; keeping quiet, nodding in understanding. Clearly communicating expectations while tolerating mistakes, turning them into learning opportunities…

In a million small ways, day after day, we adults can affect positive change by helping our kids to grow their own sense of worthiness. Because in the end, isn’t that what we all want? To know we’ve given the kids the tools to live their lives with confidence, creativity and compassion?

I can’t think of a better gift.

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