Back in the day, I used to be a writer. You know, before there were three Ford babies in my life. Before we moved out of our tiny little home into this big beautiful home. Before Grampy and Nanny Fillmore moved in. Before I stopped sleeping through the night. Before I started smelling other people's bums to check for poo. Before I started showering with the curtain open so little people could stare and point and ask questions about my boobs. Before I caught another person's barf in my own hands while singing a lullaby. Before I shopped mostly for "red" milk instead of beer. Before wine became a 7:00 necessity. Before sleeping in meant being woken up at 7:15. Before Cheerios became an accessory to the kitchen floor, the living room couch, and my purse. Before I wiped boogers from a child's nose with my bare hands and wiped it on my own pants. Basically, before I became a mom.
Before all of that, I used to be writer. Not a great writer. Not even a decent writer. But I used to write. I used to write here, on this blog. I used to make people laugh. I used to write poetry. I used to write love letters. I used to write long, eloquent emails to long-lost and dear friends.
Now, I don't write. Not nearly as much as I should. Not nearly as often I would like. And not anywhere close to the quality of words that I know I should be able to string together. These days, I think about writing, and then life gets in the way. These days, I think how I could spin a Gracie-story into a humerous blog entry, and think "Fuck it, I'll Facebook that shit." My writing, which used to be my escape, and something that kept my brain and soul happy, has been reduced to 6-line "She said/I said" anecdotes on social media.
Before, I would craft Christmas cards and write meaningful messages to our family and friends. Now, I buy Christmas cards, write something beautiful like "Wishing you joyfulness and joy this joyous time of the season of joy" and forget to put them in the mail.
Before, I would craft emails to friends pages long. I would tell stories about the silly clients at work, the adventures I'd had over the weekend, and the great things going on in my life. Now, I send a text that says "Lady - I know I suck. It's been forever. What's up?!?"
Before, I would text Danny during the day, saying "Hi lover face, I've been thinking about you. Can't wait to see you tonight! I've been looking forward to dinner and a movie all week. Love you, oh so much! xox". Now, I send texts of desperation: "Need tea." or "OMG - the girls won't stop whining! Make. It. Stop."
Yes, I used to be a writer. Before life happened. Now, I have three crazy, amazing, and exhausting kids. I have Gracie - the kid who can ask a million questions, and desperately wants all the answers. I have Ella - the kid who I'm pretty sure is made up of snips and snails and puppy dog tails, as well as a sprinkle of sugar and spice. And I have Jax - the most amazing little boy with the biggest attitude of all the Ford children. I have a full-time job called motherhood, and a husband who is now a university student. I also have these adorable other children that I borrow during the day to keep my kids (and me) entertained. I have a 5-bedroom house that needs to be cleaned, and organized, and lived in. I have a neurotic puppy dog who sucks the soul out of us with her craziness, but who still needs to be loved, and walked, and belly-rubbed. I have all of this craziness in my world that prevents me from being able to form coherent thoughts, let alone write words in a sentence that make sense.
But I wouldn't change it. I love my crazy, hectic, exhausting little life. I adore my kids, even though they cause me to cry, whine, and yell at them. I love the fact that my husband is in university, even though computer-talk is (unbelievably) more boring and confusing than plane-talk. I love being a stay-at-home mom, even though I miss real adult conversation and believe this is the ultimate reason my brain has stopped working as a writer's brain should. And even though it's been a rough couple of years for my writing brain, I feel like I'm coming out the other side of it. Life has been crazy, and hectic, and absolutely exhausting. But lately, I've been wanting to pick up a pen - okay, a keyboard - again and write. Instead of thinking, "screw it" when something pops into my brain that I want to write about, I've been thinking, "maybe you should!"
I even started reading a book this week. It has been over 2 years since I've read a book. Okay, maybe that part's not true. After all, I've read to you. And you, and you, and you there too. I've read a book the whole way through. The books I've read all kind of rhyme. And don't take up too much time. Yes, I guess it is fair to say, I've read a book almost every day! Dr. Seuss, and Karen Katz, they both know where kid books are at. But seriously, I picked up a real book - one written for adults - this week and have actually started reading it. Got through the first 6 chapters and everything. So if I can start to read, and have my brain absorb the words, maybe - just maybe - I can start to put those words back out there in the form of writing.
I've spent the last year since we've moved in slowly, oh so slowly, unpacking, decluttering, and organizing our lives. I feel like I'm at a point, finally, where I don't feel consumed by clutter and stuff. And having less clutter and stuff in my home, has ultimately lead to me feeling like there is less clutter and stuff in my brain. When I think of writing now, whole sentences begin to form in my head. Not just one or two words, scattered amongst worries of where the kids need to be and when, and panic about whether or not I'm screwing up their lives, but actual real sentences. Whole thoughts and ideas I want to get out. And that is very exciting for me to feel again.
It's going to take a while, I think, before I'm comfortable with writing again. Before writing becomes a priority for me once more. But I'm excited to be on this journey again. I used to love to write. And though it's been on the back burner - behind sleep, and kids, and family, and life - I really hope I can become a writer again. I have lots to say, and some pretty incredible kids who keep me up to my elbows in stories to share. I'm going to try to start to write again... so please, bear with me while I find my word groove once again!
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