It was my senior year of high school when I took a creative writing class.
Up until that point any writing that I’d ever done was part of a class assignment, for homework or on my own. The professor began every class with a 15-minute quite period of journaling in which we were required to write, just write. It could either be a story we’d been mulling over, putting our emerging thoughts onto paper or even just random words… free-writing he called it. We were to put those thoughts, recollections, fears and stories onto paper so they were no longer knocking about in our heads. In getting our creative juices flowing, it was passed along that once we’d put words to paper, we were engaging in creating something tangible… thoughts became words which begat ideas, which conveyed a bit of ourselves…
In the years since then, I’ve thought that recording thoughts onto paper that I was relieving my soul of the troubles and the sorrows that filled it, or in sharing a humorous moment in which some laughter might create a lightness of being.
I’m fortunate for BW and JB, and Charles too for that matter. It is with them that I have the funniest moments, that in observing their interactions I am reminded of the sweetness of family, the illogical logic of a child’s mind, their concepts and the magic of a child growing and learning and evolving into a full person.
One friend, after hearing (and seeing) a particularly animated story of the kids, commented that we must laugh a lot at our house. To that I had to admit that we do… but that it usually follows a long period of exasperation. For as clever and creative as the buggers are, they sure can drive a mama mad. Charles, I’m convinced, is trying to pretend that this is all one long dream, and that someday he will wake up and we’ll have gone back to ‘normal’.
You know, normal.
Normal, where the weekends are spent traveling, cooking, enjoying a glass or two of wine. Perhaps even reading a book from cover to cover… or the unthinkable; watching a movie without having to ‘pause’ it unless you WANT to. Not because the sound of little feet are telling you that one of your offspring are about to pop into the room and ask YET ANOTHER question. Not because you haven’t met the golden moment of cinema… you know, the one where you started the movie late enough into the evening that the children are asleep and there is just enough time for the movie to finish before you fall asleep… where you actually GET to see the credits, and not because you woke up to the finale music?
Poor man. BW and JB are the new normal.
So, we do laugh. I know though that it can a challenge as well, raising these two never-not-known-of-each-other friends. They tend to gang up on us. I just hope that in relaying the latest story that I actually get to remember the last part of it… I’m still recovering from staying up too late the FINALLY see the end of the movie.
What it was about though, please don’t ask… I saw that part three months ago.