Are you still thinking about that New Year’s resolution you made? Are your kids (and you) slipping into their old habits? Not to worry – mamawolfe is delighted to have guest writer Jessica Socheski share her ideas about healthy families!

Every January, the number one New Year’s resolution is to get back in shape. After the months of holiday indulgence it only seems natural to start the New Year off right with workout routines and new diets.

Instead of doing this resolution alone, why not include the entire family? Children need to practice healthy habits in order to maintain health in adulthood, so why not make health a family affair?

Family Physician

One of the first steps towards improving family wellness is to find a good family doctor. A great doctor will take an interest in every family member and take the time to know your clan. Having a family practitioner who is good with children will help kids feel comfortable when receiving shots, visiting for check-ups, or receiving emergency medical attention.

Because kids need regular check-ups to ensure healthy growing, developing a personal relationship with your physician seems ideal because you will be interacting with him or her on a regular basis. When finding a family physician, consider traditional insurance coverage and alternatives like concierge medicine which tends to provide more private primary healthcare.

Make Mealtime Fun

Many times families spend more time eating on-the-go from fast food restaurants than they do in their own kitchens. No matter how many nutritious offering a restaurant boasts on its menu, cooking at home almost always proves better at delivering healthier food and better family relationships.

In order to make mealtime fun, invite your kids to cook with you in the kitchen. Spend time each weekend looking over healthy and relatively simple recipes. After selecting a few to choose from, ask the kids to pick the meals for the week. Your children will feel involved in the process and, as a result, will probably be more likely to eat the healthy food on their plates because they asked for it.

Bring the kids to the grocery store, too. Most parents dislike shopping with their children because it seems like too much of a hassle. Avoid the junk aisles when shopping with kids, and allow them to select whatever they want to eat from the healthy aisles. This is another practical step to involving children in your family’s new healthy lifestyle.

Finally, make sure meals are eaten together. Do not let life’s busyness interfere with enjoying this essential time with your children.

Family Night

Designate one night a week as family night. Family health is not just physical health; it includes mental and relational health as well. Spending at least one night a week together without homework, work, chores, and other interfering tasks can improve a family’s overall mentality. Children naturally want to spend time with their parents, but if this happens rarely, families will grow apart.

Outdoor Adventures

Another great way to pursue health together is to spend time exercising as a family. Kids learn the most from your example. So spending family days biking together, hiking, walking, or playing sports will teach children to stay healthy through fun exercise. And these activities will also serve as team builders between you and your kids.

As a parent, there is nothing more important than the well-being of your family. Focus on improving the areas that are lacking in mental and physical health and turn 2014 into the year of total wellness.

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Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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I’m sitting cross legged on the couch, recently rearranged to directly face the six foot high Douglass fir that stands regally in our front window. at this hour of the morning the house is blissfully quiet, the only audible sound being the ticking of the kitchen clock and the occasional hum of the refrigerator to remind me that I’m not entirely stuck inside my mind.

On the low wooden coffee table sitting between me and the tree a candle flickers and casts a subtle shimmer of light against the funky mirrored cone shaped trees, the chess set a scramble of mislaid figures waits nearby for nimble fingers and cunning minds to bring it to life. The fireplace is cold beneath the twinkle of white lights and the four handmade stockings hanging in anticipation of tomorrow night.

The retro Santa collection graces the table to my right, a mish mash of a collection from grandparents savvy enough to keep Christmas collectibles from their younger days-they make me smile. To my left, the piano top holds ‘the white house’, so named by my husband’s grandmother, a handmade wooden structure complete with a removable chimney for Santa to hover over the top of as he gazes down on original 1940s-style miniature plastic versions of Christmas trees.

In other words, as I sit here in the silence, sipping my coffee with cream and wondering how in the world Christmas Eve can be tomorrow, my house looks festive. Except for one thing: the undecorated tree.

Yes, the hundreds of white lights warmly twinkle on its branches, casting a festive glow out the window to passers by. I even managed to plug in the electric Santa on the front porch in my festive attempt at making everything seem normal this year. But the truth is, it’s a different kind of Christmas around here this year, and frankly, it’s been hard.

In other years, Christmas carries the wave of anticipation and excitement common with most families of young children. Shortly after Thanksgiving we trek to pick out the perfect tree, make an evening of decorating in front of the fire complete with Christmas carols and exclamations of surprise and delight as each little ornament is removed from the box and hung with great contemplation, and sometimes a bit of bickering. Ah, the sounds of Christmas.

And in other years, we even had two trees, so over-the-top did our love for the season go. We simply wanted to have Christmas in every room of our home, hoping to prolong the season the best we could. My early December birthday was always a measure of the countdown; advent calendars would be in full force, lights would be twinkling from both stories of our house, and our son’s mile long Christmas list/letter to Santa would be taped to the fireplace.

But not this year. It’s a different kind of Christmas around here right now.

I’ve been wondering if this is what it will be like when we’re empty-nesters; that hesitancy to take Christmas full tilt when it’s just the two of us with no kids around. I wonder if this is some sort of inspiration for Elvis’s ‘Blue Christmas’ that I purposely have avoided hearing this year. I wonder if this is what so many people experience during the holiday season when they’re remembering Christmases long gone, children grown and on their own, creating their new memories in new places with new people. I just never figured it would be happening this year.

And every time I’ve walked through the door this month, I’ve plugged in the lights and sighed. I just can’t do it. The boxes of ornaments are still stacked in the dining room, unopened. And it’s December 23. This has never happened before. And I can’t blame it on holiday business, too many parties or anything else-except for one thing.

On Saturday night, after I had picked him up from his dorm, brought him back to the cabin, fed him until his belly cried for mercy and my eyes drooped from fatigue, he curled up on the couch and asked me for some paper. For the next hour, he quietly wrote, erased and drew while I prepared for the next morning’s early ski race departure. I noticed him tuck his paper in his backpack, and asked what he had been doing.

“Writing my Christmas list, ” he replied, his fourteen-year-old face tipped up to smile at me.

“Can I take a look?” I asked, knowing that there was no time left for shopping, and hoping that at least I had gotten that part right this year.

“Nope,” he smiled back, zipping up his backpack. “I just can’t wait for Christmas.”

“Really?” I mused. I secretly hoped that the decorations at home would be enough, and wishing I had at least wrapped a few presents to stick under the tree.

“Yeah, I can’t wait. I love sitting by the fire, you and Grandma drinking your coffee, Lily grumpy that I woke her up too early, and finding my stocking. And Dad-yeah, he’s just sitting there, but it’s great having everyone home.”

And then it hit me. I felt an unexplained release of bottled up anxiety, fear, sadness, and worry shiver down my neck, and suddenly I felt better. He was right. It is great having everyone home. It will be great to have everyone home, even for a few days.

This year, it’s a different kind of Christmas. But it will be just fine. Perhaps, even festive.

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Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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“There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.”

– Jane Austen

Wherever you find yourself this week, I hope you find the comfort of home.

Fill your home with love and the flavors of fall with this delicious pumpkin bread recipe-a perfect way to spend an hour with someone you love!

• 2 1/2 cups flour, plus more for dusting the pan

• 3 teaspoons ground cinnamon

• 2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

• 2 teaspoons ground ginger

• 1 teaspoon salt

• 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

• 1/2 cup packed light-brown sugar

• 1/4 cup granulated sugar

• 1/2 cup butter, room temperature

• ¼ c. ground flax seed

• 1 ½ heaping cups pumpkin puree (fresh or one 15-ounce can)

• 3 eggs

• 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Blend sugars with butter and flax seed until light and fluffy. Add remaining wet ingredients (pumpkin, eggs, vanilla) and mix well. Sift together dry ingredients and add to wet mixture. Mix just until combined. Pour batter into greased loaf pans. Bake for approximately 50-55 minutes, or until bread doesn’t jiggle and a toothpick tester comes out clean. Cool bread in pan on a baking rack for 15-20 minutes, then remove gently. Find a warm spot near the fireplace to snuggle up and share at home with those you love and are grateful to have in your life. Then bundle up, take a walk, and see all the beauty that surrounds you!

~adapted from One Hungry Mama, I decreased the amount of sugar and fat and substituted flax seed to keep the bread rich and most, and a bit healthier, too!

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Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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A mother’s love isn’t easy to express

without a multitude of cliches cropping up

or trying to sound like I know something special.

The idea of a mother’s love, to me,

is commitment, dedication, and respect.

It’s a thankless, painfully difficult job

if you do it right.

A mother’s love is confrontation, holding firm, letting go and

trusting things will work out.

It’s boundaries

celebrations

hand holding, back rubbing and

tear wiping.

It’s believing in your child, their potential

and unlimited possibility.

A mother’s love is taking a backseat to their dreams,

driving them to be courageous

grateful

and kind.

It’s balancing everyone else’s needs,

and when those needs come head to head,

backing down or finding another way around.

A mother’s love is smiles, bubbles, long walks and road trips.

It’s doing whatever it takes to get it done.

It’s growing up, facing responsibilities, and

allowing them to fail.

It’s knowing what’s wrong and right and when the lines get blurred.

It’s holding them close, pushing them away, and

reeling them back in again.

It’s setting an alarm to get them out of bed,

and another to make sure they’re safely home at night.

A mother’s love is cooking, singing, digging, traveling and

trying to keep up with their emerging and varied personalities.

It’s holding their hand during a shot, caressing their feverish forehead and

wiping away tears of regret as they slide down their cheeks.

It’s nurturing dreams and quietly cultivating new ideas for their future.

It’s harnessing talent, releasing failure and helping navigate life’s lessons together.

It’s teaching them to trust and to love, to find joy and dare to be themselves.

A mother’s love is perseverance. Dedication. Honor.

Whatever it takes to bring forth a human who can walk through this world

with grit, grace and courage.

It’s convincing them they are worthy of everything the universe has to offer.

It’s showing up to life.

This post was inspired by The Dinner, a novel by Herman Koch. Two brothers and their wives sit down for a tension filled dinner to discuss a tragedy that can change both families’ lives forever. Join From Left to Write on October 29 as we discuss The Dinner. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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My babies

I rode my bike home at dusk today, far too late for mothers and children to be playing at the park. From a distance I could hear the pee wee football players running their plays as the coach barked inspirational suggestions of improvement. Nearby, the pee wee cheerleaders pivoted and jumped in unison to some hip hop song I couldn’t quite make out. As I rode the familiar path towards home, my mind ticked through the mental checklist that pops up far too frequently: dinner? homework? lessons? laundry? I wondered what my teens had been doing all afternoon while I was at work, and hoped for the best. My heart felt that tinge of loneliness that happens only when I’ve been away from them too long. His birthday is tomorrow. Fourteen years of blissfully mothering him. Crossing the bike overpass, I dipped down towards Sycamore Park as images flashed in my mind; we’ve been mothering together for 15 years. How could that be possible? Two thirty-something moms, both bulging from the last trimester of pregnancy in the scorching summer heat, we dreamed of a few moments of shade while our three-year olds dared each other down slides and monkey bars. We chased them down, secretly hoping the jostling would push us into labor. Juice boxes and goldfish marked our territory, shared stories and sympathy sealed our hearts. We searched the pages of the parenting handbook, sure that the advice we sought must be somewhere out there. Mothering toddlers together helped us feel less alone, less unsure, and more hopeful that just maybe we’d get it right.

My teenagers.

I see now what they meant -those women who said, “Someday you’ll understand when you have your own.” Funny how that pops into my mind these days. I remember standing in our blue and white kitchen, my two teenage brothers pulling food out of the refrigerator like bears just out of hibernation. I couldn’t understand why my mother always complained that she had just gone to the store, and lamented about the empty cupboards left at the end of the day.Suddenly, with my own two teenagers I get it. I hear her voice when I pick up the towels from the bedroom floors, when I straighten their unmade beds, and when I wash the peanut butter crusted knife left drying in the sink. ‘Season the chicken more than you think you should’, and ‘Don’t work too hard’ ring through my mind when I find myself alone, silent in the moment. Mothering teens often feels treacherous, as if I’m teetering on the next big catastrophe. I breathe deeply, and Motherhood pulses through my veins, bringing forth all those lessons passed down from one to the next.

She couldn’t have been more than a few months old. Curled in her kangaroo sac, snug against her mother’s chest, Fiona coiled her chubby little legs tight against her torso, happy just to be pressed securely against the most important person in her world. I felt the weight on my chest, just looking at her, remembering my own first months of motherhood. I’m not sure I would have had the courage-or confidence-to bring my newborn into a work meeting. Life then had very separate lines, motherhood and teaching. Like flipping a light switch, I would move in and out of my roles with intentional distinction, not yet knowing that that movement was truly impossible.Not realizing that, like Fiona, my children would be forever on my chest, eternally positioned over my heart. I didn’t realize that, yes, I would make mistakes and wish words could fly back into my mouth and yes, I would occasionally miss a page from the parenting handbook. I didn’t understand that as my children aged and moved away from my reach that I would have to stretch my arms to reach out to them, never wanting them to leave and yet simultaneously thrilled to see them go out on their own.

Motherhood. Something learned, yet innate all the same. An experience to be cherished, not squandered. A gift to safeguard, not consume with personal neediness. Meant to be shared. Meant to be savored, every last second.

A controlling mother, a missing daughter, and a family who is desperate for love. This post was inspired by the the psychological thriller Mother, Mother by Koren Zailckas. Join From Left to Write on September 19 as we discuss Mother, Mother.  As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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