I fell into childcare when I was 17. I was tired of balancing my high school classes with closing shifts at my restaurant job, and my dad knew someone who was the director at a daycare. It was happenstance. I wouldn’t have guessed that four years later, I’d still be wiping snotty noses and saying “criss cross, applesauce!” and getting completely attached to kids who aren’t mine. I feel like I know almost every kid in this town and for a while, I could rarely make a Wal-Mart trip without running into someone who called me Miss Meghan.

Last summer I was working in the afterschool room at a big, busy center with two other girls I happened to know from high school. We all got along well and had a bunch (forty!) of great kids and, while it was stressful, it was the best non-writing job I’ve ever had. But at first, I was just missing what I’d had before. Continue reading →

I am a hypocrite.

I think of myself as someone who thrives on encouragement and self-motivation. Basically, that means I really like quote-of-the-day emails. I also enjoy those pictures of nature with inspirational phrases Photoshopped onto them – and not in an ironic way, either.

At the same time, I often find myself in ruts. I get petulant and pessimistic and short-sighted. But it’s odd how, in looking back at those times, I don’t see them through a haze of “this was bad.”

Usually, as trite as this may sound, what I see is what I learned.

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