This evening I went to a concert with Dan and my piano teacher, Mrs. R from 7th grade. Typically, I go to these concerts with my aunt and Mrs R. But tonight, Aunt was under the weather, so Dan got to go. It was a wonderful concert, played by the Boulder Philharmonic. I am not in the least bit musically inclined, but love to just listen to the music, get lost in my thoughts, and be somewhere else for the two hours. My mind wanders from the images of idyllic settings that the music describes, to situations I've been pondering all week, to what color to paint the bedroom. It's daydreaming to live background music, with the music leading me. In the car on the way home, I'm a bit intimidated when Dan and Mrs. R -- both "real musicians" -- discuss keys and movements and I don't know what all. They know better than to ask me my opinion, but look at one another quizzically when I announce I've decided on Mint Truffle for the bedroom.
That elusive Mother of the Year Award has once more slipped out of my grasp. On Friday night, Emily and I went to watch Joe in a fencing competition. It was double elimination, and we missed the first match because we went to get our dinner, not realizing he would be up to fence right away. He assured us everything was fine, he lost but had at least one more match to go. So, as the second round began, we noted he was 5th or 6th to compete. And, of course, Emily in typical fashion had to go to the bathroom. I pulled the Alyson Janey of the year. When we returned to the arena, we were informed Joe had already competed (and lost again, darn it.) But the WORST part was his disappointment because at the beginning of the match, the fencers turn to the lady they are "fighting for" and tip their epees to her -- and when he turned to honor ME, I was in the BATHROOM! I felt terrible!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Times have changed and although the neighborhoods in my not-so-small town still look the same, they've changed, too. I work from my home so that I, too, can be a stay-at-home mom, even though my children are all school age now. From my office window, I look out on the street where we live and watch my neighbors drive off to work each day. A few years ago, there was another woman like me who lived across the street, and we once admitted to each other that just the sight of our cars in the driveway gave the other a sense of comfort, to know that "someone else" was at home, too.
My back yard is edged with a "privacy fence" like the rest of the neighborhood. I'm not sure that either of my next-door neighbors even has a clothesline. (I do not). I don't feel isolated. Well yes I do, and that's why I love reading blogs written by other stay-at-home-moms. But if I need some human contact I can jump in the car, meet a friend for coffee or volunteer at my kids' school where the staff is always looking for warm bodies to help out. For the most part, I like working from my home. Yes, I always have to make the coffee, but since that was sometimes an issue when I worked in a "real office" at least I don't have to deal with that. My office mates are cooperative and cheerful, even if one does sleep and shed on my daytimer, and the other snores occasionally while asleep under my desk. I can take a break and blog when I want to, and no one looks over my shoulder asking what I'm doing. And when there's a warm, sunny day, I can sit on my screened-in back porch and listen to the birds chirping, put my feet up and take my coffee break out there. Sometimes, though, I look longingly at those high fences and think how nice it would be to find a friend on the other side.