Dreams

My friend Maris, a fantastic photographer, loving mother, and amazing person in general, recently wrote on her blog about childhood dreams, punctuated by photos of her mad scientist son.  This, along with some conversations I've had with Toad and my own struggle with finding balance between motherhood, my "day job," and my writing, has compelled me to think about the subject quite a bit these last few days.

Tuesday I asked Toad what he wants to be when he grows up.  For a couple of years now, he has aspired to be a Lego Set Designer and I periodically check with him to see if that is still his goal.  This week, in addition to his Lego aspirations, he told me that he would also like to be a cartoonist.  He has enjoyed graphic novels (especially Star Wars) for a couple of years now, but in the last year he's become more and more interested in the Sunday comics, Garfield, and books like Wimpy Kid and Big Nate.

When I hear that Toad wants to do something creative, my heart soars.  I start thinking about how Hammer Guy and I can encourage him.  I ask myself if we're doing enough.  He's got more Legos than any other kid on the planet.  He has a plethora of art supplies and "How to Draw" books.  But is it enough?  I'm a writer, Hammer Guy is a brilliant artist -- did he get the right genes?  (If he got my artistic ability, he's doomed.)

What about school?  Is it enough that he only has art class every six days?  What kind of art program does the high school have?  Should we be thinking about the Arts high school?  What about college?  What kind of degree do you need to design Legos?  Am I crazy to be thinking about this when he's only in the second grade?

Here's why it's so important to me right now:  when I was a kid, I didn't say, "Oh, I want to go into retail management!" or "I want to hire people and manage employee performance!"

Don't get me wrong.  I love my job.  My work is important to me.  I take a lot of pride in what I do and I get a lot in return.  I loved working retail all those years, as sick as that sounds.  And I learned a tremendous amount at both Best Buy and Babies and wouldn't be the person I am today without those experiences.

But when will I get a chance to live out my childhood dream of being an "author?"  My parents encouraged me, sent me to writing workshops, worked with the school district to make sure there were opportunities outside of regular curriculum, like writers- and artists-in-residence.  I wrote like crazy as soon as I could hold a pencil and all through high school.  I got an English degree and avoided becoming a teacher at all costs.  I didn't want to teach, I wanted to write.  At some point, though, after college ended and the real world began, making a living and a career became -- well, necessary.

My kids are still little.  They still have the beautiful, hopeful attitude that they can grow up to be anything they wish.  Toad frequently asks if I've gotten my book published yet.  No kiddo, not yet, but I will.  Someday we'll see it at Barnes and Noble.  I will prove to my children that childhood dreams do come true, even if they don't come true until long after your childhood.

By the way, if you're wondering what Birdy would like to be when she grows up, she will tell you, "Still Birdy."  So lovely.

(Here's a favorite song from my childhood: When We Grow Up by Roberta Flack and Michael Jackson, from the Free to Be You and Me record.)