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Kimberly Zapata

Family

I'm not a Boy Mom or a Girl Mom, I'm just Mom — and it's an important distinction

Photo by Jessica Rockowitz on Unsplash
man and two children on grass field

When I conceived my first born, I was elated. I took four at-home tests to confirm the news, peeing on my hand four times — and on four different sticks. I rushed to the city to tell my husband, with a congratulatory card and a few goodies in a yellow gift bag. There was a pacifier, a bottle, and an adorable Big Bird brush and comb set. And I called my doctor within hours. I scheduled an ultrasound the following week. But when I told everyone else the news, they wanted to know about my unborn baby's sex. Did I want a boy, they asked, or a girl?

I said I didn't care because I didn't. I wanted a child, to be sure. A happy, healthy baby who could (and presumably would) grow to become a happy, healthy kid. But everyone was focused on colors. On labels. Would I be a dance mom or a soccer mom? Would my shower be decorated with pink balloons or blue? And while I learned at my 20-week checkup that I was having a daughter — that I would be having a baby girl — I didn't identify as a "girl mom." My daughter is 8 and I still don't. Because sex doesn't define my daughter. It doesn't dictate her interests or mine, and it doesn't affect how I parent. I treat my son and daughter (more or less) the same. Because I'm not a boy mom or a girl mom, I'm just Mom, and that's an important distinction.


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family
Education & Information

Helping your kids deal with separation anxiety this fall

Photo by Ben Wicks on Unsplash

After a long, trying, and chaotic year, things are (slowly) getting back to normal. Malls are open. Restaurants are welcoming customers again — with many serving up hope alongside hors d'oeuvres — and employees across the country are returning to the office. This fall, our children will go back to school. But this return to "normal" is affecting the youngest members of our society in ways few expected. Case in point: Many children are struggling with separation anxiety, or an extraordinary fear of being separated from their parents or caretaker[s].

"All children and teens experience anxiety," Sabrina Romanoff, a clinical psychologist and professor at Yeshiva University in New York, tells Upworthy. "It is a normative process of development... [however,] there has been an uptick in separation-related anxiety due to the pandemic."


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school

How to help kids socialize in a post-lockdown world

Photo by Spikeball on Unsplash

It's been 19 months since the first case of COVID-19 was identified in Wuhan, China, and since that time, a lot has changed. Cities, states, and entire countries endured rolling shutdowns — or lockdowns. Business shuttered and schools were closed, and life as we knew it changed. From mask mandates to social distancing, every action and behavior was altered. But as infection rates begin to drop, we are making a comeback. Restaurants, movie theaters, and malls are (now) open. Business is (more or less) back, and this fall, most children will return to the classroom. In-person education will resume. But what does life look like in a post-pandemic world, particularly for the youngest members of our society?

"The COVID-19 pandemic affected our kids in many ways that we don't yet fully understand," Laura Lofy — a licensed psychologist and school psychologist — tells Upworthy. "Some desperately missed their classmates. Others fell behind on schoolwork, and some became riddled with anxiety and fear. Many regressed on skills they had developed or lost momentum in areas in which they had been making progress." And one of those areas is interpersonal, i.e. many children are struggling socially, and this has the potential to have a long-lasting impact on our children and the next generation.


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Well Being

I left my job to care for my mental health and it was the best decision I ever made

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

I'll never forget the exhilaration I felt as I headed into the city on July 3, 2018. My pink hair was styled. I wore it up in a high ponytail, though I left two tendrils down. Two tendrils which framed my face. My makeup was done. I wore shadow on my eyes and blush on my cheeks, blush which gave me color. Which brought my pale complexion to life. And my confidence grew each time my heels clacked against the concrete.

My confidence grew with each and every step.

Why? Because I was a strong woman. A city woman. A woman headed to interview for her dream job.

I nailed the interview. Before I boarded the bus back home, I had an offer letter in my inbox. I was a news writer, with a salary and benefits, but a strange thing happened 13 months later. I quit said job in an instant. On a whim. I walked down Fifth Avenue and never looked back. And while there were a few reasons why I quit that warm, summer day: I was a new(ish) mom. A second-time mom, and I missed my children. Spending an hour with them each day just wasn't enough. My daughter was struggling in school. She needed oversight. Guidance. She needed my help. And my commute was rough. I couldn't cover the exorbitant cost of childcare. The real reason I quit was because my mental health was failing.


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