As I sat on the toilet with Kenna in my lap trying to jam her fingers into every orifice in my face chanting “OKAY! OKAY!” and Tatum climbing on the heaps of clothes in Matt’s closet singing a made up song about climbing mountains in Colorado, and Roy literally laying on my feet, I realized other people might see the humor in this like I do.
And I realized I missed writing and sharing the funny, aggravating, and crazy mundane things that happen every day. I was reminded of a distinct memory, being pregnant with Tatum and laying in our upstairs neighbor’s bathtub while they were out of town (with permission), reading Alice Walker’s, In Search Of Our Mother’s Gardens. There is a chapter titled, “A writer because of, not in spite of, her children.”
I remember thinking I wanted that to be me. Walker goes on to describe the dedication in Buchi Emecheta’s book Second Class Citizen which reads:
Alice Walker initially scoffs at this–who thinks of those background noises…of FIVE kids…as sweet? But as she gives an overview of the novel–which is largely biographical–she says the heroine “reasons that since her children will someday be adults, she will fulfill the ambition of her life not only for herself, but also for them….since this novel is written to the adults her children will become, it is okay with her if the distractions and joys they represent in her life, as children, become part of it.”
Re-reading those words is so inspirational to me. There will not be many days (right now) that I can sit down with a hot cup of coffee, a clean desk, soft music playing in the background and a head full of inspiration to spill out.
As I write this, I am wearing my 2-month-old daughter in a sling, just carried my screaming and overtired 2-year-old to her nap (yes while wearing the baby), and my 4-year-old is watching an annoying episode of Doc McStuffins and grudgingly eating a grilled cheese she begged daddy for for 20 minutes but doesn’t want anymore.
But I will write. I’ll get it down whether it be one-handed while nursing and filled with typos and stupid autocorrects, or wearing my baby and standing at my desk (thank goodness for a standing desk), or if it hits me at 4:45 in the morning after I’m done calming Tatum down from a night terror. I’ll get it down before it slips into the oblivion of wet wipes and essential oils and granola bars. I’ll make digital ink because one day these three girls will be the adults I want to write for.
I’ll write because of, not in spite of, my children.