Teacher turned stay at home mom

I started this blog one year ago today. It was a birthday present to myself because I was lonely and completely overwhelmed by the pandemic, and work-at-home motherhood. I felt like I had no time to myself, and no time to be myself, and I was drowning because of it.

For ten years, teaching had been my creative outlet. It allowed me to imagine, play and perform on a daily basis. I truly loved lesson planning, and the process of trying to puzzle out how I could possibly make learning prepositions, or reading Jekyll and Hyde engaging and entertaining for 12-year-olds who also had access to Instagram and TikTok…

But teaching from home really killed that joy for me. The weeks between the shutdown in March of 2020, and when I started this blog in May, were long and exhausting. I was teaching, but not in the way that brought me joy. And I was momming, but in a truly half-a**ed way that made me really take pause and reevaluate what mattered, and what didn’t.

I was incredibly privileged to be able to make the decision, at the end of the 2019-2020 school year, to take a break from teaching. I was uncertain about what the next year would look like, so I decided to put my family, and my mental health, first.

When I reflect on who I was before the pandemic, I know that “she” would never have made that choice. For my whole life, I put pressure on myself to “do something important.” I worked my butt off in school, and in Teach for America, and at the various jobs that followed. At 27, I went back to school for my Master’s degree, as well as another credential. I told myself that I needed these degrees, just like I needed to go into school administration one day.

But, to be honest, I hated a lot about my credential program. About 1 year (and thousands of dollars) in, I realized that being in administration would mean spending 90% of my time on the 2% of things I hated about teaching. Yet despite the obvious fact that I didn’t really want to be a principal one day, I kept going. Part of me stayed because I genuinely enjoy school, and I wanted to keep learning, but another part of me–a pretty big part–stayed because it’s what I thought I “should” do.

There have been many moments during the past year–like last week, for example, when I found myself chasing the dog around the backyard, screaming at her to drop the toddler’s poopy diaper–during which I have wondered what in the heck I am doing with my life. I have pictured the account statements I received in the mail every quarter that I was enrolled in graduate school, the late nights I spent at the library in college, and the countless hours I clocked at the Starbucks on Melrose, sipping a latte I could barely afford while lesson planning for my very first job. And now, after all that work, I spend every morning dancing to Raffi in my pajamas before loading the kids into our brand-spanking-new minivan and heading to the park.

But the greatest blessing of this year has been that, for the first time in my life, I don’t really care about whether it was “worth it,” or even what comes next. I have finally realized that just because I put effort into something, or had different priorities in the past, doesn’t mean it’s a “waste” to leave those things behind, and move on to something new.

The effort I put into my schoolwork, and my jobs, and everything else I did during that “other” part of my life made me who I am today. It made me realize what I like, and what I don’t. What I’m good at, and where I should probably pass the baton. It made me realize that it’s OK to pivot, and that pretty much everything in life is a sunk cost–something you can learn from, and appreciate, but don’t need to spend too much time dwelling on.

This year, on the eve of my 33rd birthday, I am happy to report that I have ZERO, actionable goals for the year ahead. I am so incredibly lucky to be doing the job of motherhood, and am grateful that it’s one you can’t really study, or prepare for. Like all parents, I’m learning on the job, and am finally starting to appreciate that journey for what it is.

While I don’t have much free time anymore (I’m not sure I really did before either…) I have truly enjoyed refocusing my creative energy on writing, reading, and connecting with you all on the internet. Every time I “meet” someone new on this platform, I feel inspired to try something new, or challenge myself in some way. I have home projects I plan to tackle for the first time, cooking endeavors I’m excited to begin, new art projects and homeschooling activities up my sleeve, and, of course, a whole bunch of new books on my TBR.

For the first time in my life, my once rigidly forward-thinking self has learned to care a little less about the things that don’t fill me up, and a little more about the ones that do–regardless of whether they’re “important,” or where they’ll take me long-term.

So, I guess this is a thank you, to anyone who has ever read my blog (or even pretended to), for coming along for the ride with me. But it’s also a thank-you to myself, and to this very weird year, for allowing me to welcome change into my life, and learn to find happiness exactly where I am.

Some Favorites From This Year:

How I’m Feeling:

This week has been a weird one for sure. The election, and the combativeness and hostility that has come along with it, have really gotten me riled up. If I’m being totally honest, I have some controlling tendencies. I sometimes have a hard time letting go of things that are outside of my control, and can find myself overwhelmed by unresolvable frustration when I can’t “fix” or “change” things. I am making a conscious effort to get better at this, and have actually found Melody Beattie’s The Language of Letting Go to be particularly helpful in this arena.

But this week, I found myself falling back into some old, bad patterns. A few people I talked to reminded me that I need to start accepting the fact that there will always be people (people I love and care about more specifically) who have beliefs and values that are different than mine, and that it’s OK for them to have these beliefs and values. In theory, I understand this. I know that I am far from the smartest person in the world, and that everyone’s opinions are colored by their own belief systems and unique life experiences.

The problem now is that those “personal beliefs” are so often muddied by news outlets, on both sides, that position politicians or their policies as unequivocally “right.” To be honest, I find this both annoying, and offensive. What we need, is information, the space and trust to engage in our own, rational, dialogues around it, and the opportunities to make our own moral determinations.

On the other hand, I also don’t believe in moral relativism. I think that, on certain issues in particular, there is a clear right and wrong, and no one’s context or personal perspective will change that. I think that there are certain human rights that should not be up for debate, and certain modes of behavior that are always unacceptable. So, in short, I’m struggling. How do I “let go,” and respect the opinions of others (which I know are well-intentioned), when I feel so strongly that some of those opinions are, intentionally or not, hurtful and dangerous? How do I dedicate my career(s) (as both a teacher and a mother) to teaching children how to be fair and critical consumers of information, and then sit back and watch our own, trusted media outlets fail to live up to this pretty simple standard. (Literally though, it’s a 5th grade standard.) Sigh. If you have any thoughts for me, or just want to commiserate, lemme know.

What I’m Reading:

The Year of the Witching

This was my last “spooky” read of the season and, overall, I really enjoyed it. In the novel, the protagonist, Imanuelle, lives in the town of Bethel, which seems to be a fictionalized, and even more terrifyingly supernatural version of Puritan New England. This book touches on concepts like religious extremism, racism, and misogyny, and focuses heavily on the physical and sexual exploitation of the women in Bethel. I am a huge fan of both The Crucible and Women Talking, and I loved that this book digs into many of the same themes. I really enjoyed the fact that Imanuelle’s primary journey in this novel is one of self-reflection and personal growth–wherein she realizes that she has more power and good in her than anyone in her community would allow her to believe. (There’s also a good romance subplot sprinkled in there for good measure.)

While this book was exciting to read, and the setting was masterfully drawn, I had trouble really connecting with a few of the characters. Imanuelle was a little too self-effacing for my liking, and seemed to come to the same realization several times over. There were a few other characters who also didn’t feel as fully fleshed out as I would have liked them to be–particularly the witches, who I thought had the potential to be a really interesting and complex component of the story. Still, I’d give this book at least a 4.5/5 and definitely recommend it, despite the fact that the official “Spooky Season” has come to an end.

What My Kids Are Reading:

The Very First Americans – Cara Ashrose

I purchased this book in preparation for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday and was thoroughly surprised by how intrigued my 3.5 year old daughter was by it. The book describes the different American Indian tribes who lived in different areas of the country, prior to the arrival of Europeans. Margot had a lot of questions about the pictures (why do they all have long hair?), as well as the descriptions of their lifestyle (but why do they have to kill the buffalo?). She spent a full five minutes on the page that explained how the Sioux preferred living in tipis because they were so portable, and made a very cute connection to her own toy tipi, which she and her brother are always demanding I move to a different room in the house. This book is a little dated, and I was worried that it would read that way, but I actually found it very respectful and super informative. A definite recommend for the upcoming holiday season.

What I’m Listening To:

Holding Space – Cassidy Freitas

I have loved this podcast for a while, as it really speaks honestly about the beautiful, and difficult parts of motherhood. Dr. Cassidy is a Marriage and Family Therapist, and mother of young children, who shares her own experience as a new mom, as well as patterns she has gleaned from her research and practice. On this episode, she and Chasity Holcomb (of @momfully.you and momfullyyou.com) talk about how difficult the transition to motherhood can be–specifically as it relates to identity and a mom’s sense of self. I related to a lot of what both women had to say, and took away a few reminders, and some new tips–all of which I hope will help me make a plan for how I can set boundaries for myself when baby #3 arrives this spring. I highly recommend this episode to all moms, but particularly new moms, or expecting ones.

What I’m Wearing:

About two months ago, my family added another member to the brood: a wild, gorgeous, mixed-breed rescue puppy named Lemon. While I love her oodles, she eats EVERYTHING. A few weeks ago, she tore apart a few of my favorite sweaters, and my ABSOLUTE favorite shoes of all time, my Seychelles Mules. (Cue tiny violins). So, this week I purchased a few new sweaters, as well as TWO new pairs of mules… because it’s probably best to have a backup. You can check out my purchases by following the links below.

What We’re Playing:

We recently purchased this Sight Word Swat game, and Margot is surprisingly obsessed with it. The set comes with about 100 sight words, color-coded by difficulty. Parents can lay a set of words on the table, and then yell them out (I guess you don’t have to yell, but what’s the fun in that?) one at a time. The first player to swat the correct word gets to keep it. It’s a game I played in my middle school classroom (with vocab words for different units), and am loving watching my daughter get excited about it at home as well.

Until Next Time:

Thanks for reading friends, and I hope the weekend ahead is full of relaxation and a well-deserved vacation from the news. Drop me a comment or a DM if you want to chat – I appreciate you all more than you know!

AND, you can now follow me on Pinterest! Do it:

The Paper Dart

The pandemic turned me into a stay-at-home-mom, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

This past week was hard. My son, now almost 19 months old, is still in the midst of a seemingly never-ending sleep regression. Not only was is he refusing to go to bed, but he has also figured out how to climb out of his crib—in his sleep-sack no less. For his own safety, and as something of a last-ditch effort to encourage him to sleep independently, we transitioned him from a crib, to a toddler bed. While we are now able to put him to bed, lock the baby gate, and enjoy a relatively quiet, child-free moment in the living room, he still putters around him room until about 9 p.m., “reading” books, and singing about trucks.

Had this scenario happened last year, I would probably have thrown in the towel around 7 p.m. I would have placed the squirmy toddler in Dan’s lap, grabbed my backpack and laptop and announced that I was off the clock. Last year, when I was teaching full-time, the post-bedtime evening hours were crucial. I had to make sure lessons were prepped, grading was finished, and my email inbox was cleared out. It was stressful, no doubt, and I didn’t always want to crack the computer back open, but it was also somewhat freeing. There was a clear line in the sand where my “mothering” duties ended, and my breadwinner responsibilities began. I could clock out of one job and into another without feeling guilty, and never (read: rarely) resented my husband, Dan, when he did the same.

During the years when I was a working mother, Dan and I engaged in many a crucial conversation concerning how we could carve out a relatively egalitarian division of responsibilities at home. While this may be an unpopular opinion, I believe that there are fundamental differences in the ways in which men’s and women’s brains work—especially when it comes to planning and preparing household tasks. Figuring out how to work around these differences, and make sure that we both felt appreciated and seen, was not easy, but I think we did pretty good job of it.

But when the roles suddenly shifted, I had a difficult time figuring out what needed to change, and what didn’t. Parenting small children is a full-time job. It’s also the kind of job where you can feel like you are racing from task to task all day, working harder than you ever worked at your “real” job, only to find that it’s 5 p.m., your child is crying, you never did get to that mounting pile of laundry, and the kitchen is definitely not clean enough to cook dinner in.

This week, as I lay on my son’s floor at 8 p.m. (because, having spent every hour of the last six months with “mama,” no one else would do), I thought a lot about the boundaries I used to have. While I am filled with absolute gratitude for the fact that Dan is able to support our family in this incredibly difficult time, and that I get to snuggle my baby to sleep at night without worrying about answering emails or grading papers, and that I don’t have to deal with the myriad of completely unreasonable demands being placed on classroom teachers right now, I also feel a little bit lost.

I miss being able to kiss my children goodbye, and know that they are going to be loved, challenged, and well-cared for by their daycare teachers. I miss stopping at the Starbucks drive-through on my way to work, and treating myself to a latte with money that I earned myself. I miss chatting with other adults in the teacher’s lounge while I make copies in the morning. I miss teaching, and putting my three, well-earned degrees to use. I miss picking my kids up at the end of the day, and smothering them with kisses, and feeling recharged enough to be truly engaged in their nonsense stories about things they may or may not have actually done that day.

I don’t say any of this to romanticize what it’s like to be a working mother. In fact, some of the major differences I have noticed since not going back to work, are that I have a much better handle on my anxiety, I sleep better, and I feel like I have only one job (albeit one that never ends), as opposed to two. In many ways, I found being a working mother, especially in the field of education, totally unsustainable. But I still wish there was a middle ground: a place where I could do both, and not feel like I was constantly struggling to breathe.

I read an amazing book recently, called To Have And To Hold, by Molly Millwood, and would recommend it to any mother, but particularly those who are grappling with work-life balance, and the sharing of responsibilities at home. Millwood is a mother, and a therapist, who has spent her career working with couples, and new mothers. Her honesty about the reality of parenting and the effect it can have on a couple’s relationship is so refreshing, and made me feel validated in seen in so many of the experiences I have had over the past several years.

In the chapter entitled “It Takes A Village to Raise a Mother,” Millwood talks about the system the U.S. government set up in 1945 to support mothers who had to go back to work while their husbands were at war. She talks about the “multipurpose centers” where women could drop off their children, AND THEIR LAUNDRY, on their way to work, and then return to pick up, not only their children and clean laundry, but also a home-cooked meal. To be totally honest, I cried when I read this. As most mothers know, working or not, this scenario is an absolute dream.

Millwood’s contention is that, as working motherhood has become more of a norm, our society has begun to view it as “normal,” and even “desirable.” Thus, we have also come to see working motherhood as something inherently sustainable: If so many other mothers do it, why can’t you?

However, Millwood also says that “there remains a significant discrepancy between mother and father in terms of how much the baby occupies mental and emotional space.” While mothers may find freedom and fulfillment in going to work, they aren’t necessarily letting go of a disproportionate level of responsibility for their children, and this can often lead to feelings of overwhelm and resentment.

Basically, you’re damned if you do, and damned if you don’t, and despite the fact that I read books about these issues, journal about them, and engage in deep conversations with my friends and family, I still don’t really know what the right answer is. At the current moment, I am filled with gratitude for this time with my children, but I also can’t really imagine not going back to work. A part of me wishes I was in the classroom, but an even bigger part knows that the stress of it would be (and was), detrimental to my physical and emotional health.

What I do know, however, is that something needs to change. Women run the world; honestly, and truly we do. Men may make more money, and are in more positions of power, but women do literally everything else. It’s about time that society, employers, our government, and all the people who depend on both the paid and unpaid work of women take a closer look at the current system and the ways in which it’s failing us, before this pandemic, and our culture in general, turns the conundrum of modern womanhood into an absolute crisis.

If you are feeling similarly, I am an open book, and am ALWAYS willing to chat. My DMs are open @thepaperdart, or you can leave a comment below. And if you are a mother, or know a mother who is struggling, I cannot recommend Millwood’s book enough. You can purchase it from the link below, or find it at my bookshop.org page.

Happy reading, happy mothering, and happy everything else you do.

XO, Katherine

The Book: Click to Purchase