By: Marci Whitehurst
Remember the taste of cotton candy melting onto your tongue?
Or riding your bike without training wheels?
Jumping in puddles? Splish! Splash!
Swinging until your feet touched the sky?
Somehow in my process of growing up, I became an adult.
Okay, so this is the natural progression of life and it is good, but I slipped on my adult avatar and forgot I’d been a kid.
Life became riddled with responsibility and to-do lists, goals to check off and people to please.
As I had my own kids, some of that kid joy came back: if you play Candy Land a million times in one day with your child, you can’t help but remember the dread of going all the way back to the plum. Or the joy of picking Queen Frostine on a first or second card.
Still, adulting was different.
Basically, fun wasn’t the same fun.
Forts in the living room meant a mess, not joy. Although I did enjoy the kid giggles and would climb inside, there was a nagging in the back of my mind: this will need to be cleaned up.
Finger painting? Anxiety central. Yes, my kids painted and I applauded each masterpiece. But my heart sank knowing that there was a “masterpiece” to wipe up.
And mother guilt? Or parent guilt? Terrible. Were the kids having enough fun? Were they learning?
I forgot what made me tick.
Before I paint a picture of doom, let me say, I did have fun—hiking, going to movies, planting a garden, being with animals… but something was missing.
As I stepped into the writing process, I realized what it was.
Me.
Inner child me.
The girl inside had slipped away, and I missed her. I wanted her back.
Writing exercises helped: thinking through memories, processing emotions that I felt as a kid. Spiritual practices helped. Having a mentor tell me to dig deeper (shout out to Bethany!) helped. I forgave myself and others.
I learned that writing is cathartic for me. Even if it isn’t a project I’ll sell, it is a way to find who I was created to be and how to step into that place of wholeness.
As healing came, I wanted to have fun. Kid fun.
Not just grown up fun, where we enjoy the park or the lake, and I have to remember the snacks, sunscreen, towels, and my kid’s favorite hat.
But fun where it was just silly fun.
Fun that connected me to my inner child.
Fun that reminded me why I want to write, who I am writing for, and how to be vulnerable.
That’s why I started Fun Fridays.
Fun Fridays is a simple way to be accountable for having kid-centric fun each week. It’s a chance to look at what kids like to do and do it from their point-of-view. Here are some things I’ve done:
Puppets
Milk mustaches
Playing with a puppy
Jumping in a bouncy house
Racing toy cars
Sharing kid friendly jokes
The goal of Fun Fridays is to tap into my inner child and remember what life looks like sitting on the floor, laughing at ridiculous things, imagining tall tales, and creating projects “just because.”
Some of us grew up a little fast, maybe from trauma or unique circumstances, but finding the kid inside and giving that child permission to be free, brings freedom in adulting. We can always find things to do as adults, but being intentional about doing things as a kid is connecting me with parts of me I forgot existed.
And I am overjoyed to be getting those pieces back.
Marci, you’re right. More of us could benefit from Friday Fun Day. Me included. Thank you!
This is a great article, Marci, and one that really resonates with me right now since my kids are home for the summer. I’m constantly lamenting about my messy house and all the chaos. But they are only little one and I’m only a mom to littles once.
It’s important to stay in touch with that joyful, spontaneous, creative wonder that children exhibit. Glad for this post and the idea of setting aside time to sit with that inner child!