I I I I I I I  

How we started, who we are, what we want

Click here for Site Feed.

Babyloni Yoni
kgranju
Haikumama
MOMbo
Dawn
homeschool dropout
hobbledog
ShariMac
Kim Moldofsky
Tumpover
Joanna Fried
A-Lady
Meagan Francis

Wanna be a
guest blogger?

Let us know!

Motherload
by Robin Bradford
Spike's Point  
by Spike Gillespie
Mom and Pop Culture
by Marrit Ingman
Domestic Disturbance
by Melissa Lipscomb
Letters from Midlife
by Stephen J. Lyons 
Shaken and Stirred
by Adrienne Martini
Pop Rocks
by Michael Nabert
Bad Mom
by Amy Silverman
A Little More on Your Plate
by C. Jeanette Tyson

AustinMama
Haiku of the Day
This Woman's Work
LiteraryMama
HipMama
Baldo
Ramonster
Moxie and the Compound
Sarah Bork Hamilton
Vickie Howell
Penny Van Horn
Spike Gillespie
Shannon Lowry
Websy Daisy
Big Red Sun
Mombo
Cookie

Never miss what's new at Austinmama.com. Sign up for our weekly newsletter!
enter your email address


subscribe
unsubscribe


Join the AustinMama.com Mailing List and receive occasional coupons, promotions and invitations from select local businesses, announcements of special services and events—deals our readers have grown accustomed to seeing on the site, now delivered to your door!
Mama will NEVER sell, abuse or divulge your information to other entities. Materials to be mailed will be done so by AustinMama.com. This is a private, complimentary service for our readers, run and operated exclusively by AustinMama.com.

Just fill in your info below.
How can your business get involved? 
Contact kim @ austinmama.com

First Name:  
Last Name:  
Address:  
City:  
State:  
Zip:  

 

 

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Who am I in the Land of Young Children?

Per my post last week, I set out to answer questions about Who I am, What skills I possess, and Which job opportunities to pursue. I drank coffee and made lists.

Although my Who Am I? list was quite long, it wasn't always this way. When my boys were very young it seemed all I was and would ever be was the chief cook and bottle washer. Now my ambitions are slightly higher. But given the recent (and very familiar) posts on this blog about life with wee ones, I thought I'd post a piece I wrote when my boys were two and four. It appeared on Andrea Buchanan's now-defunct Phillymama site and was my first published work.

The Land of Young Children

There once there lived a young woman known as Student. She sought to learn about life, the universe and everything. After she realized she could make her own way in the world, she packed and repacked her things as she trotted the globe in search of new adventures. At first she required a trunk and many suitcases to contain her life, but over time she learned to fit it neatly into one backpack.

I am Traveler! she announced. Traveler set out and experienced many wondrous things, enjoying the company of an ever-changing cast of companions. But eventually she found the Best One of All and settled into a new kind of life.

Years later her body thickened with child. Her belly danced of its own volition. It was her greatest adventure yet.

I am Mommy! she cried, entering a world of hugs and snuggles; tickles and giggles; small, naked bodies with shallow, sweet breath. It took time to acclimate to the unfamiliar terrain, but eventually she learned to navigate the Land of Young Children. In this land she found a mysterious place where the sun never set on a mountain of dirty clothes generated by her small family.

I am Laundress! she shouted as she tossed in yet another load. She sorted and folded and matched up tiny pairs of socks. Although she did not iron, she pre-treated stains and followed care labels to the best of her ability. Laundress worked without fail to keep her family in clean clothes. Still the mountain grew and grew.

Seeking refuge from her toil, she left the Territory of Dirty Clothes, but the next task was even more onerous. Just as the sun never set on the mountain of laundry, it never shined on this strange site. She was in the Dark Place Under the Kitchen Table. The linoleum landscape was marred by congealed oatmeal, puddles of milk and crumbs of all shapes, sizes and colors.

I am Maid! she howled in anguish as she repeatedly swept and scrubbed the floor. Maid performed her duties often and with great heed, but she recalled from her days as Student that the universe moves unavoidably toward a state of disorder. There was no way to escape the laws of physics, but if she did not tend to the mess then surely some creepy-crawly insect would. So she dropped to her knees and labored for hours on end. As she scrubbed away in the Dark Place she heard a cry that made her shudder. It was the call of a young child. She followed the foreboding sound to the Pale of the Potty.

I am Wiper of Bottoms! she wailed as she navigated yet another spot where the sun did not shine. She forced her way through unpleasant smells and indescribable sights. Wiper helped her children avoid rashes and develop a good sense of personal hygiene.

Then came the day she signed up for a karate class. She made her way to a dojo at the edge of the land. Her uniform, a soft cotton gi, was the first white item in her wardrobe in over five years. She trained and perspired without concern for the growing mountain of laundry. She eyed her clammy classmates relieved that she would not have to bathe their sweaty bodies at the end of the day.

I am Kim Possible! she proclaimed. I can do anything! She likened herself to the cute, powerful, midriff-baring cheerleader/crime-fighter her children watched on TV. Except that after two pregnancies she could not envision exposing her midriff. Kim Possible’s positive outlook displaced the gloominess of Laundress, Maid and Wiper.

After class she made her way to the border, the place of books and music, to read or write or talk with a friend. Kim Possible returned home by 10:00 because in the Land of Young Children the sons rose unpredictably-often before the sun itself. Once home she nestled next to the Best One of All and slept peacefully.

Just as birds began to chirp, a small body bolted across the hardwood floors and hoisted itself into bed, smothering her with hugs and kisses; awaiting snuggles and tickles. A soft, sweet voice demanded that she turn toward it-close enough so they breathed each other’s air.

Mommy, your breath stinks! the little one exclaimed. Thus began a new day in which Mommy was once again Student learning about life, the universe and everything.

Bonus Book Group Discussion Guide:
1 What is your most memorable experience from your days as Student or Traveler?
2 What elements of this story give you hope that Traveler will re-emerge some day?
3 What is your favorite laundry tip?
4 How does your advanced degree help you as you clean house?
5 At what age should a child be responsible for wiping his or her own behind?

posted by Kim Moldofsky @ 7:38 AM  

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home

 







I I I I I I I  

AustinMama operates on a shoestring budget, which is often untied causing us to trip a lot.  Our noses could probably use a good wiping, too.  But we are decent people who will never be too proud to accept charitable donations to our cause.  We promise.

Reproduction of material from this site without written permission is strictly prohibited
Copyright © 2001- 2006
AustinMama.com
Don't make Dottie mad

Dottie / Sarah Higdon