So…here I am. In the unlikeliest of circumstances – officially a HOUSEWIFE.
When I was like 13, my mom was driving me home, or to dance, or something. Anyways, we drove by a cul-de-sac on our street in Fairport (a suburb of Rochester in upstate New York) and I saw what was at the time a horrifying sight. A mom, standing there…waiting. I immediately inquired what she was doing there, and if it could be possible that this woman was standing there, just waiting for her kid to get off the bus. A strange concept since my sister and I had spent years climbing in the windows of our house after school cause no one was home and we couldn’t find the key. (Don’t worry I had a totally normal childhood devoid of neglect or any other sob story – this is not that kind of blog). So, I was appalled that this woman had nothing better to do with her time than wait for her kids to come home. I never thought I’d get married, I mocked the notion of owning a house with a white picket fence with little kids running in the yard. I always thought I’d be a doctor in the Peace Corps or something. Then I met Micah. Fell madly in love. Gave up the pursuit of law school to try and make a living as a dancer and choreographer. Moved to Los Angeles, then to NYC. Dreamed of marriage and family. Started getting emotional when I saw little babies and dreamed of having my own. And then 88 days ago married Micah (in the most AMAZING wedding ever – planned by yours truly).