Permachild

written Monday, 25 July 2011

Second star to the right... or an adult's life in a child's world...

My name is Miranda, and I have decided to begin this blog for several reasons. At the risk of boring you immensely, I will detail a few of them.

1. Of all the roles I play in my life, I am a mother first and foremost. I do everything for children, my entire house is designed for children, there are child locks on all doors and cupboards, toys and books in every nook and cranny, several entire closets and storage bins crammed with the most adorable things that they will never get around to wearing, and I cannot imagine a day where I do not step on a cheerio just after I have put away the vacuum. I am not only a mother to my three beautiful girls, but a stand-in-mother to many more over the years being a babysitter, daycare provider, and now a "little school" teacher in my home. Anyone who walks into my house is shocked by the fact that almost all of it is used for my daycare. "Where is your couch?" "Where is your living room?" and "Where do you sleep?" are commonly asked questions ("Sleep? What's Sleep?"). 

This past year I worked in a kindergarten classroom for a practicum for school. From working closely with another adult who works with young children all day, I learned that one needs to have an adult outlet or escape, and a never-ending sense of humour. I am surrounded by children (up to 8 a day), their toys, their books, their clothes, and even their words and ideas almost 24/7, and don't live with any other adults to share my thoughts. 

I LOVE CHILDREN, so it is not at all that I resent this feeling of being surrounded, I more am intrigued by the idea that I could put thoughts down that otherwise would never be shared because they are either inappropriate for children, or children would simply not understand or appreciate them. I have realized that other people may be able to relate to these ideas, benefit from the practical strategies and solutions of a professional (okay, maybe novice) mom, or even find humour in the everyday musings of life in the Moth house.

2. As early as I can remember, I have wanted to write. I was reading anything and everything at the age of three, and began writing short stories in grade one. All through school I was rarely seen without either a book or a notepad and pen. I actually wrote a fantasy novel in grade 7 and 8, with my few friends as all the main characters. When asked what I wanted to be, it was always a writer, until I fell into the all too common practicality trap. "You can't make any money being a writer, you need to get a real job and write on the side." I remember my father suggesting that I study technical writing, or "how to write those instruction books or manuals for things that no one ever reads". In high school it was "We're not going to help you pay for school if it's for the arts, it has to be something that will get you a job." This kind of thinking doesn't motivate people, it puts out their fire. My daydreams changed from going to University, studying literature, and writing novels, to living in a crappy apartment with roommates, being a waitress or working dead end jobs, and writing in my spare time. If people put it in your head that you are going to be poor and destitute if you do something, and you still envision yourself doing it, you know it is something that just has to be done. 

All too often we forget what really makes us happy, things we wanted to do as long as we can remember, in order to make way for the things we feel we need to do. 

Every year since I left school, one of my new year's resolutions has been to write more often, and I have failed every year. I start a new notebook or journal, only to abandon it a few weeks or even days in. A lone parent mother of three who works full time and takes college courses has a million other things to demand her attention than keeping a journal or writing a book (in that million we are not even including all the work in keeping a house cleaned and organized). I'm sure anyone in my situation, or anyone with children for that matter wishes there were more hours in the day. NOW after all that rambling, this point was that I love to write and need more excuses to make the time to do so.

3. I would love to archive some of these daily moments, ideas, and thoughts to enjoy in the future. My memory is a black hole. If any of you have heard of "Mommy Brain" (or whatever it is called where you are from), I think it is multiplied with each additional child., and I'm not entirely convinced that the old brain ever comes back. If you have ever walked all the way up the stairs only to reach the top having forgotten what you were going for, you know what I'm talking about. If I put them down somewhere more permanent than my brain, or a notebook that I am going to misplace, maybe I will actually read them again someday and appreciate that I actually had the time to write them down...

Now I just have to remember the name of the blog... and the password... Okay, I see problems already...