Parenting

Motherhood To Me

May 11, 2019 By Kathie Z

Two weeks ago, I came across a post asking for writers to submit their definitions of motherhood. In 100 words or less. Yikes. Sum up the last two decades of my life in 100 words or less? It was worth a try. And the word that came to mind was heart.

Motherhood is a work of heart.
It’s diving into the unknown.
It’s following your gut, trusting your instincts.
It’s calling in your mother for help.

Motherhood is loving someone more than you ever knew possible.
It’s being afraid, but choosing to be brave.
It’s saying the right thing or saying nothing at all.
It’s choosing self-less-ness.

Motherhood is imperfect.
It’s shouting, it’s joy.
It’s heartbreak and joy.
It’s messing up, saying “I’m sorry.”

Motherhood is all-encompassing.
It’s a worried mind, a sleepless night.
It’s an answered phone.
It’s a conversation ended with “I love you.”

Motherhood is heart work.

The 100th Day, A Day to Reflect

February 3, 2019 By Kathie Z

Goalposts. They’re everywhere. Lines painted on turf, items crossed off a to do list.

They’re the physical and metaphorical end zones guiding us in the direction of goals.

In sports, the goalposts are clearly defined, outlined in brightly colored paint. Athletes make their way down the field in bursts of energy, progressing towards the goal line. Sometimes they cross the line, sometimes their progress is deterred. All the while, time is ticking away and every moment counts. Because the game has a finite amount of minutes. There is little time to celebrate when players cross the goal line, score points for their team. Taking time to celebrate during the game is not an option. Game time is too precious, the stakes too high.

In so many of our real lives we, too set goals and get to work making our way down the field, mindful not to run down the clock. We achieve one goal and quickly set another, keep moving forward towards the next goalpost. Over and over again we repeat this process. Set goal. Work towards goal. Achieve goal. Repeat.

This week while so many are focused on football’s Super Bowl, I’m preparing for the primary grade big event, the 100^thday of school. In the primary grades, the 100^thday is a. Big. Deal. It is a major goalpost.

100 means so much to small children. It represents an understanding of math concepts. 100 equals 100 ones, 10 tens and 1 100! 100 days is also a big deal because it signifies such a huge chunk of time passed in the eyes of a young child.

Historically, the 100^thday has been a fun-filled day in my classroom, centered around the theme of the number 100. My students complete a number of 100 themed math and writing activities. Laughter fills the classroom as children ponder what life will be like in their far, far away future.

Year after year as the 100^thday came to a close, I struggled with remaining present. Rather than basking in the joy of the day, I couldn’t help but think about the looming June goal post. After 100^thday, time seems to magically speed up, the remaining days pass at an accelerated pace. Rather than marvel at all the good learning that had occurred, I thought about all that still remained to be done!

This year I’m choosing to view the 100^thday through a different lens. This 100^thday, my students and I will take time to reflect and we will celebrate. Because they have invested a lot of effort into their learning. They’ve done hard work, pushed through challenges, made great progress.

And what a powerful lesson for all of us; parents, educators, children. To take time to reflect on our efforts, make note of progress we’ve made, and be proud of how far we’ve come.

There will always be goalposts. And time will always be precious. But there’s always enough time for acknowledging, appreciating and celebrating where we are now.

©Kathie Z.

Progress

January 13, 2019 By Kathie Z

For the past few years rather than craft New Year’s resolutions, my sister and I have chosen theme words. Inspired by the Rubin sisters, Gretchen the O.G. happiness expert and her younger sister Elizabeth, my sister and I have chosen our words and shared them with one another. The word is meant to serve multiple purposes: inspire, encourage and motivate. And in our case, provide accountability.

Most years, I choose a word hastily. There are so many words and in the panic of the January 1 deadline, I choose a good enough word, then forget it or replace it before January is even done.

On Christmas, my sister asked me if I had given my word for 2019 any thought. “Nope,” I said. She was excited. She had chosen hers. She was already practicing utilizing hers. My closest accountability partner, I knew she’d be checking up on me, encouraging me to make 2019 the year. So, I started thinking about the year and the different things I want to accomplish personally and professionally.

I had a week’s notice. And then our mother got sick. My siblings and I turned our focus to our mother. Standing in the coffee line in the hospital lobby café on New Year’s Day, my sister asked, “So what’s your word?”

“Dunno,” I said.

As the days passed, our mother was getting better. Bit by bit. She was making progress.

And then it hit me. Progress. That is my word of this year.

Embracing progress as my word of the year is a huge deal. It’s an acknowledgement of small, incremental forward movement. It is honoring the process, rather than putting all of the value on the finished product. Progress encourages acknowledgement which encourages perseverance which ultimately leads to accomplishment.

Which is what we primary educators do every day. We note the progress our students make daily. It’s why we collect work samples, portfolio assess. Then we provide verbal feedback, tailor instruction and encourage our students to keep going. Remind them, “you’ve got this.” Progress is at the root of the growth model we primary teachers know so well.

And when our students look at the work they did at the onset of the year and compare it to the work they are currently doing? Well, the joy in the room is contagious, the energy electric. Because our students are proud of how far they’ve come.

But we adults who tended towards perfectionism fail to recognize the progress we make in teeny, tiny incremental steps. Instead, we put an inflated value on the end product; dishonoring the effort, failure, and learning we’ve experienced. How ridiculous is that?

So I encourage you to choose your word for the year. And while you’re at it, encourage your kids to choose one, too.

©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.

Parenting

Footer

From Our Blog