Teacher Appreciation Week


Our everyday hero’s have a week of gratitude bestowed upon them once a year. Let’s make it count! This year, I am having the students fill out this simple PDF in their precious handwriting and having it bound into a book. They will present it to the teachers at the end of the week. Wanted to put this out into the world to spread the love.

If you use it, please let me know how your project turned out!

Laugh hard. Love strong. Live to serve.

Best!

Kimberly Crawford

Option #2 My teacher is good atOption #2 My teacher is good at

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Mind Bombs and Car Rides


This morning was a rare treat. I have this cousin that I can geek out with in regards to Spirituality. He is one of those special souls that is a true guide and seems to speak Truth when you need to hear it the most. (xoxo MJD)
We had a rare, quiet, moment and swapped funny stories about our lives over the phone. I was excited to share the mind bomb that Luke dropped on us 2 weeks ago. I hope you enjoy the story as much as  he did.
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On the way to school, Luke asked me, “Why do you think we are alive on Earth? What is our Purpose?”
Before I could answer, he blurted out, “Wait- Let me guess… we’re on Earth to learn by making the best choices…” [Insert Eye rolling here]
So – I asked why HE thought we were here…
He said, “Well, I think God has a God… And God is taking a test to show that he/she knows everything. We are the avatars… we’re in a video game – and are the avatars just thinking that we are making our own choices, but we aren’t! We are living out the many possibilities God has to prove he/she knows about to her God.” Luke was beaming at this point. As I am very rarely speechless. I was gobsmacked.
“Does our God’s God have a God?” I asked, still stupefied.
He was silent for a tick- “I assume so, yes.” Luke said as he looked out the passenger window.
“If we are God’s avatars, we are still God.” I stated as a question.
“Yes.” he replied.
“…Ok. Then why wouldn’t God build the game so we could never be aware of this?”
“That would take out more possibilities. Avatar awareness is like being on a higher level in the video game.”
My mind felt like crunchy grains of sand were careless dumped all over my not so tranquil grey matter. “But if WE are GOD, then we are God’s God too?” I asked. As I worked it out in my gritty brain, Luke smiled again, “…Fun, huh?”
With that, he and Jax, jumped out of the car and raced toward school. We flung kisses and professed our love for each other until we left each other’s line of sight.
Before I pulled out into traffic, I turned to Ziva, “Mind Blown. What about you?”
She just shrugged as if to say, “Eh, I’ve always known that stuff. How come you’ve forgotten?”
…. how, indeed.IMG_2618
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I can only imagine some of the fantastic conversations happening in your cars on the way to school or on a road trip. Would love to hear some! What are some eye opening revelations you have experienced lately?
Laugh hard. Love strong. Live to serve.
Best!
Kimberly Crawford

Setting Limits & Unleashing the Warrior: The Paradox of Parenthood


Can we walk the line of unleashing our child’s inner Warrior and set limits?

I recently had a play date with a mother of two. With her newborn on her hip she recounted how different her kids were. How this new baby is rewriting the parent handbook she just finished mastering with her firstborn. Though she was in a familiar place with new challenges, I admired her for setting her life up so she could be fully present. As a young woman she has worked relentlessly to build a successful career and with the same fortitude, she is constructing a purpose filled life raising her children.

After they left, I began to reminisce. When I was a young mom, was my guidebook the same as it is now? I dove into my journal and found this post on letting our kids discover their own limits while keeping them from killing themselves. May you walk the fuzzy line that keeps your heart pounding and still keep your spirit on Earth! Enjoy 🙂

August 27,2012

Alamo CA

 

As a “High Spirited” kid, Luke is always willing to take on a battle. Today was no different, yet it was terrifyingly magical.

Luke and Jax are learning to respect animals and the sacrifice  they make by providing us food. They’re beginning to understand the cycle of life and the practice of self-reliance. Growing food in the garden, harvesting and canning fruit, learning to fish are all part of life in our family. Learning to hunt is on the horizon.

It’s as if they look out their car window, assessing their food options based on the wildlife we pass. The boys have shrieked for me to pull over when they spot a flock of wild turkeys so they can, “catch ‘em and eat ‘em for dinner.”

This particular morning was luxurious and lazy. Full of eggs, tea and toast; I saw the sun beaconing us to come out and enjoy his splendor.  I hustled the boys and Ziva outside. All 3 sporting their pajamas, perfect attire for a morning walk down Kensington Court.

The boys grabbed their scooters and blazed down the street.  My morning zen began to unravel as I attempted to call them back.  16 month old Ziva, engulfed, was lagging behind. She inspected every leaf and acorn. Investigating the world that lives within the division between tar and earth.

It’s too quiet, I thought. I could feel the hair on my neck electrify and lift off my skin. I begin my “mother-safety scan” and start to count kids. Ziva, check. Jax, check. Luke….ugh…. LUKE!

I spot him at the end of the court, laser-focused on the two young deer grazing on our neighbor’s cashmere pink hydrangeas. With the stealth of a lion, Luke lowered his scooter to the ground. Confused, I watched as he crept toward the unaware mammals.

Lost, I turned to my middle child, “What in the world is your brother up too, Jax?” My three year old, who is mentally 93, looked at me and shook his head.  Throwing his hands up in the air, he gestured, “how the heck should I know?!”

In a burst of movement, Luke exploded forward, breaking into a full frontal attack.  Sprinting toward the preoccupied deer, his hands stretched out in front, deadly weapons. His plan?  Take them down at the neck and choke them out.

Oh, did I mention he was screaming? Yeah, like an extra in Mel Gibson’s Braveheart who wanted to make every moment of his 3 seconds on film, count.

 

So here we were, Ziva straddled on my hip with a fist full of leaves and Jax holding both my hand and his scooter. Our mouths dropped to the floor as we watched our warrior, literally, running down what he expects to be tonight’s dinner.

At first I laugh and shout, “Hey buddy, deer are pretty fast runners, I don’t think you’ll catch them.” Silly mommy- what do you know about running down deer? Apparently nothing.

Ignoring my comment, Luke kept after them and ran the startled deer into a corner. Our neighbors fence blocked any chance of escape. The only way out for the two deer? Through my 6 year old son.

In his eyes,  he saw an opportunity and he was ready to take it on. With every ounce of his being, he believed he could not only take down one deer, but two at the same time. Looking into those quivering Doe eyes, I could see the animals believed it too… and they were scared silly- at this point so was I.

The color drained from my face as I yelled, “They will fight you and hurt you to get away. They will not willingly be dinner, Luke. Back Off!”

Deaf ears; he was in the “hunter’s zone,” something my husband,  hasn’t felt in a long, long time (sorry sweet-cakes;).

Luke crouched lower. His fingers splayed out, channeling his inner X-men Wolverine. The sun beat against his now perspiring brow, his lips curled back, exposing his unbrushed and fierce 6 year old teeth.

Each step was full of intention, “I am going to eat you deer,” was the menacing whisper I heard muffled in each step he took.

“LUCIUS ALEXANDER! STOP! You are trying to send their energy back to the Universe and they are going to fight back and hurt you or send YOUR energy back to the Universe! Don’t move an inch closer!”  The words flew out of my mouth and echoed off the hillside.  Yeah, that SO didn’t work.

In his mind, Luke  KNEW he could catch them.  I could see that his purpose in that moment was to take down those deer and I was internally Freaking OUT… Do I run up and try to grab him? He is 10 yards away… what about my baby girl? Do I set her down … what if the deer come this way and trample her, what if she falls off the road and into the creek? Could I trust my 3 year old to hold onto her? Seriously?! Is this really happening?!

I thought to myself, “Okay, God, a little guidance would be AWESOME right now.” Boom! Like a power surge, the words… “protocol” flashed in front of me. I had to appeal to the Vulcan logic that ran deep in my first born.

I tried again, “LUKE!” I hissed. Do you have a permit?!”  Suddenly, my deadly hunter slowed but was unwilling to break posture still crouched, menacingly in “attack” mode. Luke’s gaze still locked on his targets, he snarled back, “What?! Mom, what are you talking about? What’s a permit?”

 

In rapid fire, I explained that when Daddy goes hunting, he has to register for a permit… “It is like asking the hunting department for permission. Do you have one?”    Luke broke his focus on the petrified animals and turned to face me, dropping his tense, claw shaped hands to his sides, “One, what now?”

“Something that shows it is okay to hunt these deer. You have to have permission- a permit- or you can’t hunt these deer.” I warned. Ziva squeaked and tried to wriggle out of my too tight grip. I’d clenched her waist so tight to mine, I was hurting her and yet I couldn’t allow myself to loosen up.

“I don’t have one of those,” he sighed, “..I have a library card, does that count?”

“… No, son, it doesn’t. You can only check out books with that, not animals.”

Click. Click. Click; I could see his brain running the program…. “Daddy needs a permit to hunt, I need a permit to hunt. Got it.”

I watch the warrior in him dissolve and slip into the sunshine. Luke shrugged at the deer and backed away, allowing just enough space for them to bound off into the canyon.

I finally released my grip on Jax’s hand and Ziva’s waist, frantically rubbing my fingernail indents on Jaxie’s poor hand with my thumb.

A long, slow breath escaped from my chest as I watched my 3 children squeal and chase each other down the street, as if the moment before never happened.

I learned a lot from Luke that morning. At one point in our young lives, we all believed in ourselves.  To the core. True and complete belief in our capabilities. Hunting  deer with our bare hands, creating a  tempura painted masterpiece; as kids, we didn’t let fear or doubt anywhere near our driver’s seat.

And I also understood to use “protocol” with caution.  My kids will, eventually, believe that the limits I put upon them are real. In this instance, well used. But, I must be aware of abusing those limits in the name of gratuitous angst or personal comfort. I must guide enough to keep them from killing themselves AND let them determine their own limits. A heavy responsibility, but what an honor it has been so far.

May you remember that you are capable of most anything and use limits sparingly. Here’s to unleashing your inner warrior!

Laugh hard. Love strong. Live to serve.

Best!

Kimberly Crawford

 

My “monkey mind” gets a beat down… and other self discoveries.


“Go out and TRY, you never know who you may inspire along the way.” – Nick Vujicic

IMG_1667Since yesterday, I have been pacing, a tiger trapped in a self-imposed cage… I see the mental doorway of where I am to go next and have been lingering back. Letting my “monkey mind” get the best of me, filling my daring brain with mindless chatter based on fear and failure. This is what can happen when I spend too much time on my computer trying to do too many things at once.

Maybe it’s reflecting on the lost of Prince; another musical Messiah, like Bowie, that makes me more aware that my life is shifting. Am I celebrating my time on Earth like they encouraged and demanded? …Kids are getting older, years wisp by in fractions of a second. The house is physically changing and the breaking of its bones send invisible shrapnel whizzing through the air.

I have fought for this shift. The home remodel, working from home to be present for the kids and my husband. Now, as these endeavors evolve, I am ready to un-peel another layer, to discover what new weirdness lay waiting to be unearthed within.

How do I define myself? Mother. Wife. Friend. Mentor. Philanthropist. Marketer, Communicator. Innovator. Messenger. Micro-disrupter. Harmonizer. Healer. Dreamer. Procrastinator. Not-the-best-housekeeper. ….I have erased the word, Writer, at least l0 times from this list. Why?

It isn’t as if I am at a loss of things to say. Is it because I fear that what I have to write isn’t interesting  enough for you? Or is it by sharing this moment you would see me a weaker, weirder version, than I have shown you before?

As I awoke today, set my intentions of how I plan to show up for the world and serve, I still felt a bit fake. Instead of jumping “all in” and putting my spirit behind my words, I mentally kept one toe out of the water, going through the motions instead of fully surrendering.

So, the angst continued to plague me. It was relentless. Self doubt grew inside like a balloon. Instead of continuing to run, from whatever nonsense was building up inside me, I decided to turn around and embrace it. Part of me thought I was literally going to explode, leaving tattered remnants of myself all over the kitchen floor.

I crept into the office, sat in front of the computer and thought, “just write.” Get whatever is festering OUT.

Write about ANYTHING. Write about the tools you have discovered that help you show up as a better human being in this world (…Yeah, those same tools that you are not using right now, which is why you feel so disconnected).

Write about how you have been changing inside because you have been trusting yourself more and so desperately want others to discover how empowering that is. Write about how you want to help everyone but sometimes loose perspective and get overwhelmed with the HOW.

Staring at a blank screen, I decided to do some research, ie. stall. Bam! I stumble upon this video of Nick Vujicic; A man who encourages each of us to get out of our heads and live. To try. To fail… I know all of this. I spend my time teaching this.

Today, I needed to hear it again. I needed to hear it in his words; through his story. Nick was born without arms and legs. He struck me as encouraging and compassionate. He reminded me of where I needed to be. Present. Here in the now.

So, I write. With each word, I attempt open the door of possibilities. I allow the world to see me, in this moment. Open and exposed; willing to show each of you my vulnerability. Unsure but trusting myself to make the right choices when they present themselves.

I chose not to file this journal entry away, but to share it with you. Because, maybe today, you need to hear that you are BEAUTIFUL.  You need to know that your self doubt doesn’t define you IF you don’t let it stop you from doing whatever it is you are meant to do. That I will love you through your weak moments and weirdness- even if you don’t love or understand mine. That the LEARNING is in the frustration and failure. Feeling humble. Feeling human. Acknowledging that self-doubt lives within us all and what sets us apart is what we do next.

May you go out into the world and try something new today.

Laugh hard. Love strong. Live to serve.

Best!

Kimberly Crawford

http://www.bbc.com/capital/story/20150318-leading-without-limbs?ocid=ww.social.link.email

Why even my worst day is THE BEST DAY EVER!


This morning started off a bit rocky, coffee couldn’t cure it, healthy smoothie didn’t even make a dent…. PMS was in full effect. Kids be warned!

There is nothing like sneaking in a play-date with your 4 year old to obliterate the morning grumps. Check out the video; a guaranteed laugh to get you over hump day! Thanks Ziva!

Laugh hard. Love strong. Live to serve.

Best!

Kimberly CrawfordIMG_6548

Happy Birthday Bunny Boo!


Ziva Sloane, means “Radiant Warrior”

On the 26th of March, my daughter Ziva was coaxed into the world a bit early for her liking. Maybe she knew Earth wasn’t ready for her and wanted to give everyone a chance to catch their breath before her arrival, that or she was busy doing her hair.

Once she arrived, our lives were never the same. Ziva got right down to business, teaching her brothers and parents how to properly care for a Q.I.T. (Queen In Training). Redefining what it means to “hit like a girl” and modeling to the world that you can be a warrior and practice kindness in the same moment. We are blessed to be in your court, baby girl. Here’s to celebrating your 4th year in reign.

Happy Birthday!! xoxo-Mam

Ziva 4 poster jp

Mom on the Move


Image

Move

/moov/. verb. 1. go in a specified direction or manner; change position. 2. change or cause to change from one state, opinion, sphere, or activity to another.

noun. 1. a change of place, position or state.

My day started with a tearful Jax sullenly dragging his sleepy body back to his bedroom. Mike and I were pajama-less and I told Jax he could hang out with us on top of the covers or go back to bed in his own room. Taking my response as total rejection, iridescent globes of his pure little heart welled up at the edge of his eyes and silently slid down his sun-kissed and freckled cheeks. I struggled to rush through the waking process, trying to use my hands to sit myself up and rub away the sleep all at once, accomplishing neither. His crushing sobs bounced down the hallway which contorted the sound into an almost laugh or squawk which confused my morning mush-brain even more. By the time I located my robe, haphazardly discarded on Mike’s side of the bed, and plodded down the hall to my middle son’s room; I found him cocooned in 3 layers of blankets. Consoled by his stuffies, which were dutifully snuggled underneath his chin. One of his favorites, a corn-flower blue fuzzy bunny shielded Jax’s eye with a floppy ear. His face full of peace. I would have thought I dreamt the whole event had there not been the telling streaks of dried tears on his freckled face. Jax had been sleep walking again.

Like the other moments before, Jax would not remember this interaction. I, however, am left with the feeling of moving through a moment without being able to … i don’t know… what am I left with? A moment that I am experiencing alone, and yet not alone? So… weird.

On todays agenda was to hike with a new friend. We became acquainted through Jax’s friendship with her son: a really fun, spirited kid Jax loves to be around.

We had talked about getting together to hike for weeks. I had noticed something going on with her. Today she confides that she and her husband are separated with the intention of divorce. My heart felt so heavy for her. One look in here eyes and I could see the steps she walked were made with thoughtfulness and intent. Yet, I wanted to take her hand and start to just run. Run down the block and jump off the concrete street as if it were a runway and take off into the brilliant sapphire sky. I wanted to help her glide through the clouds and have the wind wick away the tears and hurt she was so honestly showcasing despite our fledgling friendship.

Instead, we hiked; we took off into the winding paths of Lake Chabot. As we talked and pumped our healthy legs to the rhythm of our raw truths, the world looked like velvet. The landscape, a blanket for our honest and raw words to softly land, despite the sweat-filled pounding of our feet. It was as if we were the toddlers Mother Earth held close to her belly and let us beat our fists against.

As our hearts pumped with action both verbal and physical, we were safe. Discovering new pieces of each other and realizing how alike we may be. I tried to keep my listening ears on and not talk so much or offer my suggestions; just listen. I didn’t do as well as I wanted too. I did my best in that moment.

I felt honored she shared such an intimate moment with me and trusted me enough to be so real. When I looked at her, as we finished our walk, I saw such a strong woman -walking in the present and toward the future she had not foreseen -with the purpose of being the best woman and mother she can be.

I was moved. Empowered, I hope to model some of her strength and intention into my day. What am I not doing for myself that I should be doing? What is the truth that I am not speaking? What actions am I not holding myself accountable for?

Maybe my feeling of being challenged by my sister-in-laws comment of “having all the extra time now that Ziva is in school, why was I not writing?” she asked, “What am I filling my time up with these other projects if writing is what I am passionate about?” Instead of saying, “good question!” I felt defensive and dismissed it. Now, in this moment… I see what she sees; why am I not being true to myself and putting this passion first (or even 5th!) No one is asking me to be a martyr or to have the cleanest house on the block.

Working on being real, letting people in and learning to trust and share my inner thoughts is what I should be practicing. Not worrying about what people will think if my kitchen floor has layers of dog hair, squashed strawberry tops and coffee grounds. If they are real friends, they will know that 3 kids, 2 dogs, 1 cat and a busy husband leads to an always moving household.

Though I love the pictures in my Dwell magazine and Architect Digest, they are no match for the epic pillow fights that spontaneously erupt in my front room. Or the awesome dance parties we have to shake off a funky day.

It is only 1:18PM and already I have learned a lot…the day is not nearly over. I am excited to go, walk, proceed, progress, advance, change, budge, shift, act; to Move.

What about you?

Laugh hard. Love strong. Live to serve!

Best!

Kimberly Crawford