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Out of the whirlwind of kids racing through the school doors, with coats dragging behind them and a weeks’ worth of math worksheets blowing away across the lawn…Out of this rushing wave of youth, innocent flirting and the smell of the school bus exhaust--you appear. And all is not well; a mom knows when a typical day has taken an unfortunate detour for her child…. Excerpt from “We Are Home”
After years of writing off and on, I’ve come to realize I do it, in part, to make up for the areas of my life in which I feel inadequate. For example, I cannot cope with the tiny bits of paper, scissors that are always lost, and unlimited possibility involved with scrapbooking. And so, the first year of my first daughter’s life and the first 3 months of my second daughters’ are carefully chronicled in a perfectly detailed album. And then, all of the sudden, I couldn’t force myself to do it anymore—the details got to me and every picture since is stored digitally in random computerized files. Therefore, I turn to writing. I can reread my journals and the girls’ early days blaze back to life for me. I can feel the way their eyelashes tickled, the way their first bedtime prayers gave hope to darkness, the way I whispered stories under the covers and we buried our heads in the pillows to capture our giggles. My journals bring those images and detailed moments of that unparalleled world. I can close my eyes and the words take me there.
“In the dark, still corner of my world-my room. I hear a lullaby playing softly, I see the shadows cast by my nightlight. I think of the moon, high in the night sky and feel sorry that it missed out on playing in the park with us. I see my toys scattered on my floor and I wonder what games they will play while I’m asleep…..And then she’s there, Mommy’s kneeling by my bed….” Excerpt from “Mommy’s Lullaby”
I also write to give words to their young minds. As a parent, it can be hard to understand and be understood and bridge the gap between understanding. The words I write become that bridge. I hear my girls’ voices, see their struggles, marvel in their creativity and celebrate in their triumphs—then I attempt to capture it all in my children’s books. I use the voice of a child to chronicle both ordinary days and extraordinary events. I’ve written on the subject of messy rooms, perfect summer days, daddy’s day out, school bullies, family illness, bedtime rituals- among many others—all in a child’s voice. I never want to forget the way my girls internalized emotion, developed ideas, carried out plans, created adventures, and became burdened with the sorrows of the world. Writing the children’s’ books made up for my fear that my memory would not keep up with my need to preserve their voice. As I reread them, I hear them speak.
