I Preach Movement

Leave a comment October 7, 2014 drworobec

***This post was originally written as a Guest Blog post for Momstown.ca.

This is my final post for Momstown, as I’m finding the time commitment to be too much when my personal blog is where my true passion lies. It’s been a great experience with a wonderful company and I’ve learned a lot about the world of blogging!***

~~~~~

With a five-year-old and a two-year-old in my house about to embark on their respective SK and Nursery School starts, I’ve been thinking a lot about the ‘teacher role’ I’ve played in their lives to date. I’ve been fortunate to work part-time, and so I’ve been able to spend the vast majority of my daytime hours with their amazing little selves by my side.

I’ve thought back to the practical skills I’ve taught them: putting on coats, taking off shoes, washing hands. I’ve thought about the academics: colours, numbers, shapes. I’ve thought about the life skills: taking turns, using manners, saying hello. But if I had to choose one thing, just one thing, that I’m proud that they’ve learned from me, is that I’ve taught them to move.

They’ve learned that movement makes you strong. Movement makes you grow. Movement makes you confident, capable, and full of life. That movement makes you healthy. That movement is simply a part of life.

I practice what I preach, and I preach movement. They see me come home from the gym in the wee hours of the morning, tired and sweaty and happy. They see me huffing and puffing as I push them through the snowy streets in the running stroller. They see that we choose bikes rather than cars, exploring rather than TV, and playgrounds rather than movie theatres. They see movement not as a daily chore, not as a ‘physical activity requirement’, but rather as a normal part of every day.

Have you seen this phrase floating around?

screen-shot-2013-10-05-at-10-15-00-am

I couldn’t agree more.

Teach your kids to move.

Cozy and ready to go for a run.

What-Shall-We-Do-Today Mornings

Leave a comment September 2, 2014 drworobec

PLEASE NOTE:
I will be expanding my practice to
include MORNING appointments on Tuesdays and Thursdays,
effective Thursday, September 18th.

For more than five and a half years, I haven’t had to rush out of the house, amidst the madness of a morning routine. You see, I’ve been very lucky to be able to manipulate my work schedule around the needs of family life. And with young children, those needs have involved me at home every morning.

I don’t want you to get the impression that my mornings are wide open, because they most definitely are not. We always spend mornings out of the house and on-the-go, going about the daily ritual of teaching, building, and growing little minds and little bodies. We’ve done dozens upon dozens of registered programs over the years, and hundreds of playdates, playgrounds, and trips to the library. We’ve done Nursery School, swimming, skating, and story-times. We’ve done Early Years drop-ins, indoor playgrounds, and trips to the mall. We’ve done more day trips than I can count and more overnights than the norm, but we’ve never had a daily early morning deadline. No rushing kids through breakfast, no frantic searches for shoes and water bottles, no we-need-to-leave-five-minutes-agos. Until now.

Gone are the days of the pyjama-lounging, coffee-drinking, what-shall-we-do-today mornings. For nearly six years, this has been our luxury. But that all changes this week, as my son begins full-day Senior Kindergarten and my daughter starts Nursery School twice a week. Morning routines will begin. Clock-watching will start. I may even have to (gasp!) wake my children up.

I’m sure we will manage. I’m sure we will find our ‘new normal’. I’m sure we will scramble through September, only to find that October comes quickly. And soon, very soon after that, I will look back at September 2nd and not be so scared.

back-to-school-4

A Gift of Imagination

10 Comments August 5, 2014 drworobec

We got a special delivery to our backyard a few weeks ago. Tucked into the wooded trails at the bottom of our hill, now lies a quaint little 7’x7′ wooden playhouse, complete with a front porch, two screened-in windows, and set of bunk-beds. To say that my children love it would be an understatement.

They are captivated by the sense of independence it brings, its magic of make-believe, its let’s-create-our-own-world environment. We’ve gathered up some blankets and pillows, found a table and chairs, and bought a broom and a fly-swatter. It’s become a little house where adults aren’t allowed and children’s imaginations can grow. It’s theirs. All theirs. The smell of sawdust and shadows of tree branches only add to its intrigue and memory-making potential.

This playhouse is a bit of a family tradition for me. You see, my grandparents gifted a playhouse to my brother and I when we were very young. It was literally a miniature house, with cupboards and a sink, a rain-echoing roof, and a linoleum floor. And we loved it. Hours upon hours were spent inside, in all kinds of weather, while we let our imaginations run wild and our dreams set foot. We read books, we had sleepovers, we swept and mopped and washed and dusted. It was a little piece of the adult world shrunk down to fit a child. And my parents have now gifted a playhouse to my children; a gift of fantasy, of resourcefulness, of creativity. A gift of imagination.

When I see my kids playing in there, I can still hear those creaky old bunk-bed springs, still feel the coziness, still smell the stale air, and still see the little girl who was given a place to dream big.

6a00e55246b63f8834017d3fc7ede4970c-800wi