M-A-M-A ~ My Dream Job

When I was an adolescent, I wanted to be an actress. Part of me dreamed of starring in movies, like my favourite actress at the time Nicole Kidman. But, a bigger part of me longed to be a musical theatre actress, to sing, dance and act in my favourite plays, particularly Phantom of the Opera. I took vocal music lessons beginning in grade 8, up until grade 10, in the hopes of honing my skills to one day be on Broadway.

I’ll be honest, though, I don’t think my voice ever would’ve been good enough. I can be real with myself now, at 28 years old, and admit that I have an okay voice at best.

Yet, somehow, my voice is absolutely perfect when I’m singing to my son Dorian. 

When I’m performing for him, I hit all the right notes, both high and low. When I’m dancing for him, my feet are light and graceful. He doesn’t demand specific songs in so many words, but his chocolate brown eyes light up when I start the first notes to “Part of Your World” or “Tomorrow” or “Let’s Go Fly A Kite”. When I sing “Angel of Music” to him, he smiles and laughs, even if I can’t quite hit all of Christine’s soprano notes. When I swirl around with him, humming “Singing In The Rain”, his eyes shine even though my toes don’t twinkle as much as Gene Kelly’s. Dorian thinks I’m the greatest actress and singer in the whole wide world, because I’m his mama.

When I started university, I wanted to be a writer. Not a writer of a blog (no offence to this wonderful space) or a writer of emails, but a writer of fiction. I wanted to pen an epic novel like something Dickens or John Irving would write. I wanted to reignite the short story genre like Alice Munro and Mavis Gallant did. I wanted to see my own beautiful book in Indigo and have my best friend call me from there saying that she was rearranging the shelves to put my book right up front.

I’ll be honest, though, I don’t think I have an idea in me that could become a novel. Sure, I have tons of stories floating in my head at any given time, but if I’m being totally honest, I don’t see myself sitting down to write one single work for hundreds and hundreds of pages. I don’t know that I have that one stellar story in me.

Yet, somehow, I am a masterful writer when I tell stories to my son Dorian.

When I’m cuddling with him in bed at night, whispering about our future trips to Disney World, I have narratives coming out of my eyeballs. I have nicknames for him that seem to pop out of nowhere, and I can make up a million different voices to use for all of his toys, as if they are each distinct characters. Don’t get me started on when I’m reading his children’s book to him…then, I become a narrator par excellence, giving a dramatic reading of “Feed Me” or “I’m a T. Rex” that would make Dickens proud. Dorian thinks I’m the greatest storyteller in the whole wide world, because I’m his mama.

I’ve wanted to be a lot of things in my life: a university professor, a book reviewer, even a Bond Girl. But, to be honest, I never really wanted to be a mother until I was one. Theoretically, I wanted to have my own family, but I didn’t daydream about playing with my child the way I envisioned singing on a stage or giving a book signing.

Now that I am a mother, however, it is without doubt the dream job I have forever been looking for. It is the role I feel that I was born to have; I believe I was put on this Earth to love Dorian Lee and to give him the incredible life he so deserves.

A few days ago, Dorian said “mama” for the first time…and with just those two little syllables, he solidified the only identity I will ever need.

Janille N G

Mummy with a Green Heart

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