DUI CLASSES ONLINE! 3200 N Hayden Rd ~ Suite 170 - Just South of Osborn Rd 480.429.9044 WOW! ONLINE DUI SERVICES! SCOTTSDALETREATMENT.COM ARIZONA’S FIRST ONLINE DUI SERVICES HOME • OFFICE • TRAVEL ANYWHERE YOU CAN “LOG ON!” ONLINE SERVICES: MVD • SR-22 ALCOHOL SCREENINGS, EDUCATION & TREATMENT ARIZONA’S FIRST ONLINE DUI SERVICES Compare our rates. CALL US LAST! Page 40 June 2016 By Kindra Hall On July 9, 2012, my husband Michael went on a trip. For 11 days. Without me. I had known for a while that I would not be able to travel with Michael to his work retreat as I had in years past. Instead, I was to stay in Coronado (certainly not the worst place to be) and care for our 15-month-old son Arn. By myself. While I was 31 and 32 weeks pregnant. And I was dreading it. And not “silent” dread. I dreaded it out loud to Michael on a regular basis. I was dreading having to be the sole person to chase our increasingly active son around while I became increasingly in active. I was dreading walking to the park everyday – it was such a long walk. I was dreading going to the beach – he’s so hard to carry through the sand. I was dreading preparing every meal, administering every bath time, tending to every late night cry, and being the only one there in the morning when he woke up far too early. I know there are women who do it all the time – care for their children alone. It’s a good thing I’m not one of them. Despite my complaints, despite the many ways I imagined thwarting his travels, I knew the trip was inevitable. Before the baby woke on July 9, Michael was gone and the 11 days I’d been dreading for months, began. I was forced to make the best of it. We spent our mornings at the park eating blueberry muffins. There, Arn learned how to climb up on to the bench (though he couldn’t get back down until the summer of 2013). He learned the word “icky” and that it means “don’t you dare put that cigarette butt, old straw or dog poop in your mouth.” I read him the memorial plaques on each of the benches that line the perimeter of Star Park and he learned to trace his fingers over the words as he “read them” back to me. I watched him bounce to the music the early morning trainers played in the park to motivate their clients and he learned that dancing can involve moving his feet side to side as well as bouncing up and down at the knees. He was proud – and I didn’t have the heart to tell him, if he were anything like his father, this would be the extent of his dancing skills. We spent the next part of our day at the pool for mommy-and-me swim lessons where he splashed and kicked and made motions that resembled swimming. When swimming was done, we walked back to the car, hand-in-hand, where he pointed out every tree (chee) and flag (f-word) we passed and occasionally yelled out “doogie!” (gah- gee) for good measure. We went to the beach where he chased the birds, ran in the waves, moved sand from one place to another and totally rocked his speedo. We went to another park. We went to a friend’s house. And when the day came to a close, he ate a dinner of blueberries (and a few other things) before heading to the bath where he helped me test the water temperature and rub in the soap on his belly. When he was clean and dry and in his soft little pajamas, he took my hand and walked me to his room. We sang his songs and just before I laid him in the pack ’n play to sleep, he tapped his little finger to my chest and said, “Mama, Mama, Mommy.” And as I walked down the stairs to make my own dinner, I dreaded spending the next few hours before bed without my sweet little boy. On July 20, Michael returned in time to attend Arn’s last swimming lesson. And while I was so excited to see my husband... I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a small part of me that was dreading it. Those 11 days with Arn meant more to me than I could have ever known. Having only him to please, only each other for company, I was able to play with him and watch him learn in ways that I may have otherwise missed. There’s no doubt that both of our lives were about to change drastically with the arrival of Arn’s little sister in a few short weeks. I didn’t know the next time it would only be my little boy and I for a whole 11 days. Or if it would ever be just the two of us again. As a result of that experience, I decided to give up “dreading” all together. I dread way too many things, far too often. I dread moving the laundry from the washer to the dryer. I dread appointments of all kinds. I dread returning phone calls. I dread driving places where I’m unfamiliar with the roads. I even dread doing the things I love to do, like afternoon spin classes and happy hours. What a waste. I have far too many things to look forward to than to waste any energy on dread. If only I had known this before my 11 days with Arn... I would not have spent any time dreading those days, and instead anticipated and cherished this special time that I will always remember: time that passed, as it always does, far too quickly. The best days that I never expected GIRL NEXT DOOR PHOTOS BY MELISSA JILL PHOTOGRAPHY