We Are All Kiwi Birds

Hello friends,

This past summer our family spent eight days traveling together, and the dynamic between my daughters was perhaps my favorite of any vacation.

We were not perfect. As you can imagine, sisters sometimes say things to each other that land wrong. One of them would take something personally, and then say something hurtful back. In the past, an interaction like this could spiral into a half day of sibling bickering (can anyone relate?).

But what has gotten better over time is my daughters’ ability to see one another, and themselves, as imperfect human beings, and to give each other a little grace when things go sideways. This accepting and understanding of imperfection, and loving ourselves and each other anyway, is at the heart of compassion and self-compassion in our closest relationships.

There was a point in our hotel room when I reminded the girls that we are all kiwi birds. It’s my favorite metaphor from my Resilience Habits for Caregivers Course, and one I shared in this short video a few years ago. But I’ve never shared the story on my blog, so let me share it with you now.

This kiwi bird illustration is from my first workbook for kids, dedicated to my two kiwi bird daughters.

This kiwi bird illustration is from my first workbook for kids, dedicated to my two kiwi bird daughters.

The Kiwi Bird Metaphor:

The kiwi bird is native to New Zealand. For millions of years, it lived on an island with only large birds as predators. So it evolved in a unique way. Its wings shrank to tiny things hidden under its feathers, and its bones grew too dense for flight. It can’t see well, but it has an incredible sense of smell and hearing. The kiwi was perfectly designed for its environment…

Until the 13th century when humans came to the island. And they brought cats and dogs and other animals with them. Suddenly the kiwi bird was vulnerable to a lot of predators. The circumstances the kiwi bird found itself in didn’t match the way it evolved.

Now, if you were to compare the kiwi bird to an average bird, you might think, hmm… something’s wrong with this kiwi bird.

But, if you consider the kiwi bird’s evolutionary process, you’d say it was perfectly kiwi.

This is also true of our kids and of ourselves. Each of us was born with a unique wiring. And different events and people in our lives helped to shape who we’ve become. We each have our own strengths and struggles.

If you compare any one of us to an ideal human, we’ll come up short. But we’re not meant to be measured against an ideal. We’re meant to be understood as unique beings.

That’s why on our vacation when one of us would be acting particularly imperfect, I’d remind my daughters that we are “all kiwi birds.”

It was a reminder that we are allowed to be imperfect, and we are each loveable exactly as we are. In our home we use the word “kiwi” as an adjective. If someone is being extra sensitive, if I’m up too late working, if one of us says something without thinking, we’re being kiwi. It’s not an excuse; it’s a way to understand that none of us get it right all the time.

The next time you or your kids are being imperfect, you can remember the kiwi bird metaphor. You are perfectly loveable… just as you are.

With love,
Kiwi bird Jamie Lynn

We are all Kiwi birds.

P.S. I’ll be sharing more about the kiwi bird metaphor in my TEDx talk this October 2026: https://tedxoconomowoc.com/2026-speakers

 

P.P.S. If you’d like weekly reminders about how to help kids (and yourself) grow self-compassion, you can join my newsletter community.

Self-Compassion Helped Me Keep My Heart Open

Hello friend,

For those who are newer to my blog, sometimes I share about self-compassion in my classroom, sometimes I share resources, and other times I share about what self-compassion looks like in my own life. This blog is a peek into what self-compassion looked like for me on a trip this summer with my two daughters.

But first, a little context:

My daughters’ baba (the Indian word for dad) has family in India. When I learned that the girls’ Indian aunt was visiting their cousins in Canada, my daughters and I decided to take a trip to see them. My girls hadn’t seen their aunt in about a decade, and they had never met their two-year-old cousin. I really wanted my daughters to have this time together with family.

But I’ll be honest: I had some anxiety going in. Their baba and I divorced about eleven years ago, and while I love his family, traveling to see them felt a little awkward. I wasn’t sure where I belonged.

The trip was imperfect in the ways that travel can be, including a ten-hour drive and getting sick. First, my older daughter got sick, and then later in the trip I got sick.

On the day I was sick, I stayed behind at the Airbnb while my daughters spent time with their aunt and cousins. I slept most of the day, and gave myself kindness for my discomfort. By evening I felt a little better physically, but I also felt something else: left out.

So I put my hand on my heart. I told myself it made sense to feel this way, and that lots of people would feel left out in a situation like this. I cried a little. And that felt like self-compassion, too. I reminded myself that I was there for my daughters to spend time with their Indian family, and we would all be together again the next day.

The following day, we all went to a farm together with the family. It was a good day. But in the afternoon my younger daughter got a migraine, and we had to head back early.

We got together with the family one last time that evening. We all wore our Indian dresses. And as the only person in the room without Indian heritage, I again felt a little out of place, quietly wondering if I really belonged.

I gave myself a thumb hug. I put my hand on my heart. I tried to just be with my feelings.

At one point in the evening, we all sat on the ground for a ritual. And then my daughters’ two-year-old cousin walked over and sat on my lap.

My heart opened, and the tears came. It felt like evidence that I belong. And as we sat together, praying and singing, I felt so grateful for the imperfection and the beauty of this life. And so grateful for the self-compassion practice that helps me keep my heart open and keep showing up, even when it feels hard.

If you’re new to self-compassion, or even if you’ve been practicing for a while, the self-compassion break is a simple way to notice struggle, remind yourself you’re not alone, and give yourself a little kindness. A little kindness can go a long way.

With love,
Jamie Lynn

P.S. Here’s a family photo from that evening.

Jamie Lynn and her daughters in Indian dresses on their last evening together with family.

Our last evening together, in our Indian dresses.

Five Things Every Classroom (and Family) Needs to Remember

I recently finished teaching summer school, and it left me thinking about how much parenting and teaching have in common. Both are beautiful, imperfect places full of humans who don’t always get it right. One thing we can strive to create in both is a community that balances acceptance, personal responsibility, and kindness.

Right before summer school started, I wrote a children’s book called Owl’s Wisdom. Part of my curriculum for schools, the story shares five principles that matter for any classroom community, and for family life too. (If you’re an educator interested in bringing these ideas into your school, you can learn more here.) In the story, two of the Feelings Habit Animals run into some trouble, and Owl offers five pieces of wisdom that help them through it.

The five wisdoms

These are the five ideas, which I use in my own classroom and at home too:

  1. We wish kindness for ourselves and others.
  2. Life is imperfect.
  3. We each try our best to make good choices.
  4. When we make a mistake, we try to make it right.
  5. We are always good inside.
Owl's Wisdom: We Are in It Together, a classroom story by Jamie Lynn Tatera featuring the Feelings Habit Animals Bear and Dragon.

Just as siblings and parents have conflict, so too do students in a classroom. I like to remind my students that we don’t have to like all of our classmates, but we can wish them kindness, and we can be kind to ourselves, too.

When we mess up, it’s so easy to feel ashamed. All of us–including me–need the continual reminder that it’s okay to be imperfect, that we are good inside, and that when we make mistakes, we can try to make it right.

A moment where these came to life

Here’s a peek at these habits in action: a student in my classroom had been making some poor choices, so he spent a little time with me while the other children had free time. We talked about what he was needing underneath the challenging behavior. I reminded him that I know he’s trying his best, and that I understand some things are really hard for him.

Even as we named the poor choices honestly, I reminded him that he is good inside, and that I care about him and believe in him. We ended with a couple of ideas for what might help him make better choices, and a reminder that none of us are perfect and he can try again tomorrow.

As he rejoined the others, I could tell I’d given him what he needed: a balance of acceptance, accountability, and empowerment. The reassurance that he is good inside, paired with real support to keep trying, is what helps a child continue to grow in a caring community.

Caregivers need this too

We all need this, both kids and caregivers. None of us are perfect, and we are still good inside. This beautiful mess is easier to bear when we wish ourselves and others kindness, and remember that we are in it together.

With love and care,

Jamie Lynn

 

If you’d like regular reminders about how to help kids (and yourself) grow self-compassion, you can join my newsletter community.

How Would You Treat a Friend? Self-Compassion for Kids

There is a simple self-compassion exercise by Dr. Kristin Neff that can produce profound insights for adults and kids alike. It’s called “How Would You Treat a Friend?” Let’s try it now. 

Think about something you have been beating yourself up about lately. Maybe you’re falling behind in something. Maybe you had a parenting mishap. Now think about what you would say to a friend if the same thing happened to them.

You can pause and imagine this now.

Often, people find that they give their friends far more grace than they give themselves. I remind my friends that it’s okay to be imperfect, and that they’re still a good person. The invitation of this exercise is to say the words that you’d say to a friend to yourself. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve personally used this exercise to take a U-turn when I was being hard on myself.

Here are a couple of pages from the Mindfulness and Self-Compassion Workbook for Kids, Volume 1, where I guide kids through this exercise in the Land of Friendship.

After adversity, kids are often met with either self-criticism or self-compassion (and it’s frequently self-criticism). The voice that meets them in hard moments makes all the difference. This time Anjali was met with the voice of self-compassion.

Something we talk about a lot in our family, and that I teach in my work with kids, is that we all have strengths and struggles. This is part of being human. When we forget this truth, perfectionism and the inner critic can surface. When we remember this truth, we can love ourselves and keep trying.

The comic below is from Volume 2 of the Mindfulness and Self-Compassion Workbook for Kids, in the land of self-acceptance.

Mindfulness and Self-Compassion Workbook for Kids Volume 1, page 100, Activity 7.1 How Would You Treat a Friend worksheet for kids<br />
Mindfulness and Self-Compassion Workbook for Kids Volume 1, page 101, How Would You Treat a Friend activity showing children's responses comparing self-talk and friend-talk

One thing I’ve learned from doing this exercise with kids is that concrete scenarios matter. Not every scenario lands, which is why the workbook moves through several rather than stopping at one. And sometimes kids aren’t sure what they would say to a friend. That’s okay too. Kids can grow kindness toward themselves and kindness toward others side by side. 

Recently, I was working with a boy who tends to get hard on himself when he makes mistakes. We had just done the How Would You Treat a Friend exercise together, and then had moved on to considering what he would say to a friend who was worried about doing poorly on a test. The boy thought about it, and then said quietly, “It is okay to do mistakes.”

Later that day, when he got frustrated with himself for making an error, I reminded him of his own words. It landed differently than anything I could have said because he was hearing his words. That’s the power of this exercise.

When kids hear their own words, something shifts.

It can also be helpful to have kids consider the words they’d like to hear when things go wrong. Here is a playful exercise with Super Snuggles, the resilience habit animal who helps kids develop a kind inner voice..

Self-compassion doesn’t always come easily. A handful of years ago, I recorded my daughter Anjali and me doing the How Would You Treat a Friend exercise together. You’ll hear some resistance from her in the video when I ask her to say kind words to herself. We can normalize that it takes time to get used to a kind inner voice.

You can also try this with your kids in real time. When you hear them being hard on themselves, you can casually ask, ‘What would you say to a friend who did that?’ You don’t have to announce it as an exercise. I sometimes do this with my teenagers when I hear them struggling with inner criticism or self-doubt.

And the next time you’re having a difficult time, you can try it with yourself too. Ask yourself what you would say to a friend. Then try saying those words to yourself.

Wishing you the kindness you would offer a friend,

Jamie Lynn

P.S. If you’d like regular reminders about how to help kids and you grow self-compassion, you can join my newsletter community here.

Why Mindfulness Alone Isn’t Enough for Kids

Whenever I read about a mindfulness-in-schools study that didn’t have the results researchers were hoping for, my heart sinks a little. I feel a mix of disappointment and confusion because I know mindfulness can be helpful, and we all want to support kids who are struggling.

But after a little reflection, I remind myself of a few important things.

  1. Mindfulness is not the same as self-compassion, especially when we’re trying to support kids with big feelings. Non-judgmental awareness is a building block, but if it’s not paired with kindness, children will lack the care they need to stay with what they’re experiencing.
  2. Regulation happens in relationships. Children don’t learn to calm themselves in isolation. They learn it through repeated experiences with an attuned adult who can stay present with them when things feel hard.
  3. The caregiver’s mindfulness and self-compassion practice has to come first. We can’t help kids grow something we don’t embody.

If you’d like to read more about the mindfulness-in-schools research that sparked this reflection, you can read this article by Drs. Richie Davidson and Cortland Dahl. They remind us how a caregiver’s personal practice shapes the well-being of their students.

This is why the first three steps in my framework for teaching kids self-compassion center on caregiver well-being: 

Jamie-Lynn talking about the celebration and cupcakes at the end of the book.

The Framework: Four steps in sequence

Steps 1-3: Build the relational foundation

Before we teach children self-compassion, we build the ground they stand on. These first three steps happen in relationship, not in curriculum.

Step 1: Caregivers and educators learn self-compassion themselves. We cannot help children grow a skill we do not practice. Whether you are a parent, teacher, or clinician, this is the starting point.

Step 2: Model self-compassion out loud. Children internalize what they observe. When an adult names their own struggle and responds with encouragement or tenderness out loud in front of a child, they make self-compassion visible.

Step 3: Become the external compassionate voice. Children absorb tone before technique. The way we speak to them shapes how they eventually speak to themselves. Over time, the compassionate voice they hear from us helps build a self-compassionate inner voice.

These three steps are relational. They unfold in everyday moments of modeling and attunement. But modeling alone is not enough. Children also need structured opportunities to recognize their patterns and practice new responses.

That is where Step 4 comes in.

Step 4: Explicitly Teach and Scaffold Self-Compassion

Self-compassion becomes teachable when it is playful, speaks the language of children, and is introduced through engaging lessons. Step 4 is where structured teaching begins.

You can read the full framework on my here →

I know how easy it is to read something like this and immediately think about the kids in your life… what they need and what you wish you could help them with. This desire to help our kids comes from a beautiful place, and it is important (it’s why I’ve created my classes and workbooks for kids).

But again and again, I’ve seen that the most meaningful shifts for children begin when the adults around them take time and space to tend to their own inner experience. When we learn to meet ourselves with kindness, it changes how we show up for our kids.

If you’re ready to build that foundation, I offer the 8-week Mindful Self-Compassion course in a fully self-paced format—so you can begin anytime and move at a rhythm that fits your life. There’s also a 6-week version designed specifically for parents and caregivers if you’d like something more condensed. (You can explore both MSC offerings here).

If you’re not quite ready for a course, I’d love to stay connected. Join my newsletter for practical tools and reflections to help you and the kids you care about grow self-compassion.

 

Wishing you the gift of your own kindness,

Jamie Lynn

P.S.  If you’re looking for a way to support your child with big feelings, my free mini-course might be a helpful next step. It offers simple, playful ways to help children grow self-compassion when life feels hard. You can find it here.