Dance and the World Will Dance With You!

...Or maybe you'll just be that weirdo that everybody else watches. I love it! This is a pure and unadulterated good time. Sometimes I wish I was this guy. I stole this from my friend Melodie. Enjoy!

"Mr. Orange"

I don't know why it didn't occur to me to post this before. A wonderful old friend was killed in a head-on collision almost one month ago. This horrible accident has given me pause for several reasons, one of which I wrote about a few posts back. Another is that he leaves behind a wife, Bridget and a 3-year-old daughter, Kaitlyn. Those of us who are married and those of us who have children can especially empathize with the overwhelming emotional and financial responsibility of having to continue on without their spouse. For that reason, a fund has been set up in his daughter's name. Steve Ambriz gave an incredible amount to a community that he loved, and now the community has the opportunity to give back to his family. You may or may not have known Steve, but if you are able and feel inclined, donations can be made at the following website:

www.kaitlynfund.org

Or can be sent directly to:
Kaitlyn Ambriz Scholarship Fund
1940 N. Tustin Avenue
Suite #103
Orange, CA 92865


Please say a prayer for Steve's family...

Nine to Five: The Reality

As I said before, reality has set in. In a big way. While my nature tempts me to base my assessment of stay-at-home motherhood on this week alone, I am aware that this, like anything new, will take time and patience and a few prayers. That having been said, here is a typical day-in-the-life thus far:

8:15- Dave leaves for work; I panic as I consider the eight or so hours that stretch infinitely before me until he comes home again.
8:30- Amelia and I go to aerobics; the instructor sings along to pretty much every song. As if getting my desperately out- of- shape booty kicked all over the San Marcos Community Center wasn't bad enough.
10:30- Call Dave to ask if he knows where the pool key went; engage in witty banter with his secretary.
11:00-Water the plants in the backyard and spray Amelia with the hose (she loves it).
11:15- Make up another excuse to call Dave (i.e.- What time is the graduation party on Saturday?); apologize to his secretary for calling again; engage in more witty banter.
12:00- Make Amelia Macaroni N'Cheese for lunch. And peaches, from a can.
12:30- Put Amelia down for a nap. Pick up the living room. Do the dishes. Start the laundry; get sidetracked by The Jonbenet Ramsey E! True Hollywood Story. Correction: not just sidetracked, engrossed...
1:30- Dave calls; asks what I'm doing. I confess.
2:30- Amelia wakes up. We go to Sam's Club to pick up pictures; I buy a diet coke; peruse the aisles for things I don't need.
3:30- Call Dave again (his secretary leaves at 3) and ask him what time he is going to be home so I can plan dinner.
4:00- I make dinner; Amelia trashes the living room.
4:30- Take a "walk" around the block; I walk, Amelia runs. We visit the tot lot. She sees a dog, chases it, yelling, "woof" "woof!"
4:45- Pick up the living room.
5:00- Dave FINALLY arrives home. We eat dinner; Amelia throws half of her food on to the floor.
6:00- I pick up the living room; Amelia trashes it; I pick up the living room; Amelia trashes it; I give up.
6:30- Give Amelia a bath; put her in her pajamas; brush her teeth; read her "Guess How Much I Love You" and tear up at the sweet ending.
7:00- Put Amelia to bed.
7:10- Pick up the living room. Victory!
10:00- Fall asleep watching a re-run of The Daily Show.

It's not glamorous and I didn't expect that it would be, but it's FAR from the fanatasy I had envisioned. The first week wasn't, anyway. When all is said and done; when Amelia is fast asleep in her crib and the living room is finally picked up for the night, I know that staying home is the best decision that we could make for our family. I'll grow into it. And lest I become an irritation to my husband and a thorn in the side of his secretary, I'll learn how to not only be at home with Amelia, but how to be at peace at just being with Amelia. That's where the fantasy began in the first place.

Nine to Five: The Fantasy

I am in the midst of a career change. Last Wednesday, I packed up the rest of my files, said good-bye to my colleagues and moved all my "teacher stuff" into storage. Indefinitely. Usually, the end of a school year is liberating; this year it has been frightening. Now an entire week into it, I have experienced the full spectrum of emotions and in this short time developed a more complete respect for the vocation of a stay-at-home mom.

This was a particularly difficult year for me professionally and I spent a good deal of it romanticizing the idea of staying home. In my mind I weighed the options: being with my sweet little girl or combatting hormonal defiance. The choice seemed easy. I would learn to cook gourmet delicacies, have dinner ready at six every evening, and keep the house spotless. I would have time to read all the books I've ever wanted to read and I would also take up a new hobby like quilting or gardening. I would never again serve Amelia Spaghetti-O' s or frozen fishsticks or canned apricots; instead I would prepare everything from scratch. We would go to the park everyday and do lots of fun crafts like fingerpainting and hand turkeys. In the evening, I would take care of a little light ironing and still have the time and energy for a glass of wine and a game of Backgammon or Scrabble with my husband. It would be a domestic utopia.

And then reality set in...

My Cup Runneth Over...

Because of the recent untimely death of an old friend, many of my thoughts have centered upon what it means to live life and to live it abundantly. I've spent the the past few days pouring over newspaper articles and blogs, reading tributes to his service in the community and anecdotes about his passion for family and friends. At his funeral on Wednesday, I was moved beyond words to see the number of lives that he touched and am honored to be one of them. When tragedies such as this occur in our midst, life assumes a certain poignancy, a richness, that reminds me to more fully live in the here and now; to not let a single moment escape.

A minute ago, Dave swung open the bedroom door and chuckling to himself, repeated in great length a joke he had just heard. Momentarily annoyed by the disruption, I remembered what I was writing about and tried to put myself fully in that moment, not because the joke was particularly funny (it was an "I guess you had to be there" kind of joke), but because I love that my husband wants to share the silly (and sometimes lame) things of life with me.

Ultimately, I realize that life is made up of a million little moments of which I have just experienced. I'm an expert in how to live fully in the profound moments of my life; I know what's expected of me in that regard. It's the small things; the little moments that I tend to brush aside and minimalize. Those are the moments that I need to cherish the most.