I want to be a cowboy

Today Hurricane Girlchild asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.
I didn't have the heart to burden her with the fact that I haven't really grown up, and truth be told I still have the question unanswered in my own head.

I'm hopelessly immature, farts make me laugh. Out loud. I get endless amounts of joy from disgusting poop stories and I laugh when people fall and run into things. I am helpless when it comes to sexual innuendo and I  love a good dirty joke. Grown up. Not a chance. I am a 13 year old boy.

So what do I want to be when I eventually grow up?  I have to go back in time and reflect.

I studied at University thinking I would be a teacher. I love working with kids, and have done so as long as I can remember. But life called me away from school and I did some adventuring instead.

Then I enrolled to start Nursing. I abandoned that path in order to take a chance on being a small business owner with Spouse. That was an education that couldn't be paid for, and we learned a lot.

Then my career as a mom began. We waited longer than most of our friends to start our family, but I'm grateful that I did a lot of living before I started punching that clock. Some days it's a thankless job, but I see the benefits around me everyday, and know that I am doing a good job, even though my kids are sometimes a pain in the ass.

I have a long list of 'shit I'm good at' but no real passion to speak of. I am house proud and love to spend time with my family. I am learning to not put off writing and fear the feedback. I am seeing  a blank page on the screen as a challenge, although I have to resist filling the empty lines with belly laugh inducing poop stories. Is writing my passion? perhaps it is beginning to be.

IF I could be anything in the world - and have a dream career. I would write. I would travel the world and write amazing travelogues and experience people and lands far away. Tasting exotic foods and walking endless markets full of spices and textiles. But kids don't fit in with this vision. I can't imagine walking with a hot, whiny  5 year old  through  Morocco's Djemaa el Fna or Merkato in Addis Ababa.
The Boy would starve, because of his reluctance to try new foods and his epic aversion to vegetables.

So where does that leave me? 

Still writing. But in a basement in the Heart of the Continent. Dreaming that someday my kids will be able to travel with me to these wonderful, hot and seductive far away lands.

Do I currently have a dream job. You bet. I'm a mom. It was also always my dream.

I think I may have to start writing about sticky South American jungles in my backyard, and the barren landscape of the African deserts in our sandbox. The dress up box is my ticket to visiting with exotic people from around the world. The internet is my recipe book for new and exciting dishes made with spices I cannot pronounce but can buy at the bulk barn rather than an endless open air market jammed with shoppers.

So what do I want to be when I grow up?  A proud mom, with amazing kids that look back on their childhood and laugh. Or a cowboy. I've always wanted to be a cowboy.