I’m crouched in a makeshift shelter assembled from scraps, cheerfully reading a story to my kids so they don’t realize there’s a war zone outside.
I’m clawing my way out of a volcano with both kids strapped to my back, calmly pointing out the pretty orange colour of the coals.
I’m hustling them towards lifeboats but making it into a silly, lighthearted race to see who’s the fastest runner.
I have always been a parent who’s really honest with their kids. I taught them about puberty and sex and LGBTQ+ issues early — too early, maybe. I’ve never been great about upholding Santa Claus/Easter Bunny/tooth fairy lore. There’s nothing I haven’t been able to discuss with them, but suddenly I’m lying through my teeth every single day.
At almost-eight and almost-10, my kids are old enough that they’ll remember living through the COVID-19 pandemic. Is it going to scar them for life?
I have one child prone to bouts of terrible anxiety and another who lives for socialization and is crushed, daily, that she can’t be with her friends and teachers.
I’m Heather Laura Clarke. I’m a writer living in beautiful Nova Scotia, I have a 12-year-old son and a 10-year-old daughter, I married my high school sweetheart, and this is the story of my handmade life.
I have depression and anxiety, and I fight like hell every day to keep them from taking over my life. Creating things helps.
Whether I’m writing novels, decorating a room, busting out my power tools to build furniture, getting muddy in the pottery studio, sewing clothes, or cross-stitching a swear word, I’m all about using my creativity to craft a life I love.
I’ve been writing this blog since 2009, so if you dig deep into the archives, you’ll meet a bright-eyed 25-year-old newlywed who was basically obsessed with having kids, buying a cozy house, and supporting herself full-time with her writing. (Spoiler alert: she got exactly what she wanted.)
Amazing article that everyone, not just parents should read.