As the title suggests I shall be brief and probably a little smug here today. It is really quite simple, I have found the joy of my imagination again. How have I found it? I’ve finally got time.
After five years of being a stay at home mum I am beginning to get some time again to do the things I like to do. The children love to play together and, for the most part, don’t fight as much. They hide away pretending to be pirates, fairies, guinea pigs (seriously)…the list is endless. They sit at the table and draw endless pictures of everything.
Over the years I have become able to complete household tasks at lightning speed, otherwise known as getting everything done in one baby sleep cycle of 45 minutes. I have honed my skill of multitasking; I can cook dinner, vacuum and tweet at the same time.
All of this combined means I do have time to do the things I want to do. I have rediscovered my love of literature. I read whenever I can. I get lost in a book, in its world, in its characters. When I’m not reading, I write. I delve into my imagination and I let it go. Putting words on paper is so freeing. I have found my imagination again. It feels amazing.
When they sit down on piles of cushions with piles of books and look at the pictures “pretending” to read, I can read too.
When they sit at the table to make cards and write letters for family overseas, I can write too.
And that’s when it occurred to me…they are learning from me and I am learning from them. I see them use their imaginations on a daily basis. I hear them talk to imaginary friends, make up imaginary worlds, play imaginary games.
They see me read, write, create.
It’s how it’s meant to be.