At the age of thirty I began walking a path that would lead me to myself. 

You’ll forgive me if this all sounds a bit paradoxical, a bit “chicken and the egg”.  What I mean is, at thirty I became a mother, and in doing so came face to face with the truth of my real self.  I found the good, the bad, the brilliant and the very flawed.  Some mothers lose themselves in the early years with their children; in contrast, I found myself.

And when I found myself, I also found my voice.  All my life I had ducked any public display of anything that could have been taken as creative talent.  In my experience, creativity came in the form of paint, of craft supplies and glue.  Never did I give any thought to what might be my contribution; in fact I was certain I had none to offer.    But with the arrival of my children, a wellspring bubbled up inside me.  I ignored it at first, all the while penning long, amusing emails to friends and family spinning tales of what my firstborn was getting up to, and into.  I could churn out a charming and clever holiday letter, two pages on the nose, in my first attempt.  There were clues, but I ignored them.

Five years later, I took a deep breath and watched a new part of me take centre stage.  Story teller.  Truth teller.  I never had the desire or courage to write until I became a mom…and when I did so, I learned to tell the truth.  For it is only truth that keeps you company in the long, occasionally desolate nights with a newborn.  Truth that follows you through your days and paces your every step until the only way you can carry the weight of it is to share it with others.

A peek into a dictionary shows creativity defined as “having the ability or power to create…characterized by originality and expressiveness”.  Indeed.

As a mother, I create order from chaos, peace from the battleground and small trees where once only broccoli grew.  I create a world for my children, weaving truth and story together as though in a tapestry of human emotion.  It hangs on the wall and shouts “Here we are!  We are love, hate, affection, anger, exhaustion and bliss.” 

I like to think that my children were the first things I created.  And having realized I could indeed create things of great beauty and wonder, all doors were open to me.  Today I not only tell stories, but have the courage to write them down for others to read.  Perhaps someday my truth will lift weight from someone else, or encourage them to share theirs.  We are all creating, all the time, and it can indeed be a beautiful and wonderful thing.

I wrote the following back in January while we were planning our recent move, but decided to save it for our anniversary.  Twelve years ago today we were married. 

It seems both a moment and a lifetime ago.

“What are you two, the poster children for marriage?”

This question was posed to us by an acquaintance, years ago, after we were first married.  Apparently we had shocked him with an exchange where we managed to ask a question, answer a question and both use terms of endearment while doing so.  Apparently, done with the right amount of respect, affection and loving looks it can really shock the crowd.  Who knew? 

And we were kind of the poster children back then.  We had put a lot on the line when we got together, a crazy whirlwind of a late night talk, one unexpected declaration and a resulting impulsive decision (no, not that impulsive decision, tsk tsk).  We had gone from friends with an unidentified connection to a “we” over the course of 24 hours.  We went from zero to “what kind of jam do you like?” at the grocery store in three days.  Heads rolled, most people questioned us and our “crazy” decision, but we knew we had something worth taking a risk for.  People knew we weren’t fooling around…we had made a commitment, and it mattered.  That was fifteen years ago, and no one questions it now.  But back then?  We had a rep to protect.

We worked hard at being a team, though things were never perfect and we argued as much or more than anyone else we knew.  But we had an unwritten code…never in public.  Oh, sure we’d disagree; we’d even argue in front of close friends…they knew we were the same as anyone else.  But we decided early on that we didn’t want to be the couple fighting at the restaurant while the rest of the table squirmed.  We tried to treat each other with respect, and tried to make sure the other person didn’t lose face in front of others.  We also agreed on all the big issues, and both knew in the end we only fought about the little things.

Nearly twelve years later, we are no longer children, but remember the comment.  At first it was a joke, something to giggle about.  Later it became a reminder of what we had been, a way of making sure we weren’t getting too far from our roots together.  We still bring it up now and again, sort of a gentle nudge to make sure we remember the days when our exchanges contained more terms of endearment and loving looks than grocery lists and itineraries.

I’d say we’re still on the poster.  The poster has gotten a little banged up over the years; I’m sure at least partly due to all the moves we have made together.  The corners are dented, and there are at least one or two wrinkles.  But we’re moving again and the poster is coming with us.  I’m shopping for a house with just the right spot to put it.

Last week I was invited by the lovely Erica Diamond to write a guest blogger post for her blog Women on the Fence. 

She and I have recently connected on Twitter, and I have to say I love the name and concept of her site.  Women on the Fence, boy, I am one and I know many!  The tagline for her site is “For Women on the Fence in Life, in Love, at Work – It’s time to GET OFF THE FENCE and start living!”  I couldn’t have said it better myself, and am so pleased to contribute.

Here is the post I wrote, called “The Beckoning Path“.  Have a read, and I’d love to you to add your comments to those at the bottom.  So encouraging for us all to share our stories!

The Beckoning Path

I am not one of those people.  Twelve moves in fifteen years is all the proof I need offer.  And no, we’re not on the lam, I checked.

I am happy with the life I lead.  It is full of inspiration, blessings and comforts.  To want more is to seem ungrateful of the abundance already surrounding me.

But I would argue that there is a place for wanting more, for loving the path you are on yet seeing another nearby that looks more appealing.  What’s the catch?  It is easy to want more, but taking the plunge can be frightening.

To read more of  “The Beckoning Path”, click here… 

“We should all go out for drinks sometime!”

Amazing how simple an idea this would have been before children.  Friends who enjoyed each other’s company during the day deciding that a girls’ night out would be great fun indeed.  They would have made a plan for an upcoming weekend, gone out and had a great time.

But the idea gets complicated once kids are involved.  Oh, we all know that moms need to get out and play, and of course absolutely deserve the time.  But what happens when life keeps getting in the way?  I’ll tell you what happens.  In a year and a half, these friends made it out for drinks as a group ONCE.  And even then, one ended up arriving late and leaving early as she juggled the near-constant needs of a two month old baby.

Did I just hear you gasp?  It’s crazy but true.  The moms in this story were like most others, with full and busy lives and six kids between them juggling for priority.  Add in one husband working shifts, one mom travelling to the US regularly for work, and one very tiny babe and plans have a way of slipping through fingers.  Never mind trying to foist bedtimes onto husbands and hoping very young kids wouldn’t be upset as mom left in heels at 7 pm.

Then one mom had a brilliant idea.   We all lived in the same neighbourhood.   A Facebook message appeared:  “Hi!  Tomorrow night hubby has a business dinner.  My kids will be asleep by about 8:30.  I’ll be drinking wine…anyone want to join me?  I’ll text when the kids are asleep, just sneak in.”

And the whine, wine and cheese nights were born.  Come as you are, bring what you have, don’t fuss over the details but just show up.  We drank wine, ate simple but delicious food, vented and talked and at times laughed ourselves silly.  We giggled to hear each other using language that never appeared during play dates.  We managed our wine nights when kids were sick and when invariably one husband was working or another away.  We had them when there were teeny babies in the house who might need feeding, and once, when one of us was 8 days overdue with her second child.  (Inexplicably, that evening lasted the longest, until 2:30 a.m.   Yes, the pregnant one was me.  And yes, I had permission to go into labour at my friend’s house.)  And the clincher?  Walking home afterwards, not a single one of us getting behind the wheel of a car. 

So what’s the moral of the story?  Yes, it’s fabulous to get dressed up and go out on the town.  But when what you’re really craving is a break from it all or time with your girlfriends, and circumstances keep getting in the way – be creative.  Find a way to make it easier, and you’ll find yourself doing it much more often.  And really, isn’t that the point?

This piece was originally published by The Yummy Mummy Club, a great website created by Erica Ehm.  It’s a true resource for moms (and dads):  articles, blogs, contests and ways to connect with other yummy mummies (and delicious daddies)! 

http://www.yummymummyclub.ca/whine_wine_and_cheese_jen_taylor