I had kind of forgotten about blanket forts until earlier this year when I went to Havi’s playground in Portland, where blanket forts (and force fields and magical elevator shafts and tiny fairy doors) are pretty much par for the course.
Mostly I had forgotten about them as they relate to me vs. me-as-the-mom.
Me-as-the-mom loved to build blanket forts with my (now practically 19 year old) son.
Well, we didn’t actually build them together, much.
Mostly I would be in charge of building the fort and finding all sorts of fun/silly things to put inside it. I’m not saying my son didn’t have design ideas, he did. He just enjoyed having construction staff onsite to take care of the dirty work. It’s a family trait.
So, I would do most of the building of the fort and the finding of fun/silly things to put into the fort and when all that was finally done, my son would sit inside for a few minutes, then get bored and decide to have a pillow fight with the fort and/or me and then the fort would be destroyed and I would be a little sad and he would be all “Look up here Mom!” from whatever tree he had climbed or light fixture he was swinging from, “I’m on a jungle adventure!”
(God, I love that kid.)
We had some magical mom and boy moments in blanket forts, but I think it is safe to say that blanket forts were way more my thing than his.
When I think of blanket forts all sorts of things come up:
Feelings of being safe in tiny, sweet, places. Feelings of delight and play and magic and “oohhhh, I have a secret” and “ha ha, you can’t see me!” and “I can do anything I want in here and I don’t have to explain anything.” Feelings of being content with everything around me, because I have everything I need. Also, “only my favorite things can be in here with me” and “I might let you come visit if you’re not destructive and you don’t try to change things and you respect my sovereignty in my fort and you bring something sweet to eat.”
Inside my blanket fort I feel like I have total control over my environment — what qualities it contains and who gets to come in. Plus I’m in control of the magical trap door that not-nice people go through when they are not-nice.
I’m yearning for all that in my real life, too.
I think that is what this blog is about.
It’s my own virtual blanket fort.
Which is kind of weird because there’s not a lot of “hiding” or “secrets” going on here. It’s more like:
“Here I am….. depressed, unemployed, happy, sad, silly, sexually frustrated, bitchy, generous, hormonal, insecure, multiple-personalities, selfish, writer wannabe, sparkly light/fat girl just trying to work some shit out. Wanna play?”
But I guess it is like a blanket fort in that I get to write the stuff, instead of say it out loud and face to face, and then I get to stay hidden behind my computer screen while people read and react to what I’ve written.
And like a real blanket fort I’m pretty much totally in charge — I get to decide what to say and how to say it and when to say it. I only have to show what I want to show and I don’t have to worry about anyone’s expectations about how my blanket fort blog should be and if someone comes in and tries to boss me around or tell me what to do or start some kind of a fight, I get to expell them through the magic trap door. Ha!
Also, I’m in charge of the magic and sparklies and the big pillows and the comfort food.
So, yay! I have a virtual blanket fort!
Thanks for playing nicely, my sassy sweet pea blog friends.
p.s. I made a page (see above) just for pictures of spaces that invoke blanket fort type feelings in me. After looking at them, I’m starting to be convinced that I’m actually just a very tall hobbit in real life.