As an aspiring writer I have spent a lot of time pondering what it is I want to write about. I love fiction and have lots of ideas but very rarely have the dedication or time to fully expand them further than a concept or few lines written in a rushed fashion. I am not dedicated enough to write a daily blog on my perception of the world as I see it. I have attempted it and although love it, found it daunting and another item to check off the list. My day job in another lifetime was communications and marketing so I did write, for other people, spurring my creative juices into marketing plans, newsletters and website content. It temporarily filled my innate desire to write something, but I was never satisfied. Not really.
A few nights ago as I lay drifting on my couch for the hundredth time, cursing myself for being lazy but justifying that the quiet and mindless activity I was pursuing was welcome after my day with the kids, an idea hit me. Not a blinding lightbulb moment, but one that I welcomed in between the diaper changes and playing Thomas the Train. In all the parenting, blogs, columns I have read there are few that fully explore the experiences of a woman trying to raise three or more children. There are lots of resources on single-child families, two or even multiples but when one reaches three children or more all other advice seems almost inconsequential. The world as it is today is made for families of one or two-children, not three or more so it makes logical sense that the focus would be on that family dynamic. Once in a while I have seen and devoured a blog or article on what life is like for a family like mine and breathed a sigh of relief that I am not the only one in the world.
Interestingly around the same time I bumped into a high school acquaintance. A nice girl who shares the same first name as me and a lot of our passing conversations were commenting on the annoying factor of each of us turning as teachers or other friends called our name. Being from a small town, the classes were not very big so it became a joke by grade thirteen that no-one still thought to add a last name initial or anything when we shared a class or team sport. However, she has since become part of my extended family in a step-sort of way and I have heard about her from my family member on and off through the years as I’m sure she did me. We ended up quite by accident being at the same holiday event for a brief time and I got a chance to meet her family, very similar in make-up to my own, three children all six years and under.
Casually I asked her, “it’s different with three isn’t it?”
She looked at me and nodded saying, “You know, the rest of the gang (she was fortunate to stay in touch with most of her original group of friends from high school where I had taken off and not looked back) have one or two kids and it’s different, they sometimes…”
“Just don’t get it?” I finished smiling at her.
“Yes,” she said back. “I just don’t have the time to do certain things.” And strangely enough, the two of us being of the three or more club and understanding that statement moved me to give her a big hug when we took our leave of the party chasing our three munchkins to put on six pair of boots, three hats and three jackets.
So with all of this in mind, I take you on an adventure. An adventure in the survival of the fittest. Of being a Mom (a feat for any woman) raising babies to toddlers and all that lay beyond. And of course, of the three or more club.