a real job

Sometimes I think how strange your life is. Strange that your mother dances, and flips and has her ipod on 24-7 and calls it "work." Strange that her career consists of laughing and dancing and messing around with other people's kids. Strange that there is a gymnastics mat in our living room. Strange that you both knew the word "choreography" at age 2. Strange that you are always watching this chaos, and neither of you think I have a job. You both think this is life - the good stuff - that this is just how happy people live.

I did have a real job once. I went to college, and studied hard. I worked in public relations, was a talent agent, political consultant, campaign manager, newspaper writer. I actually won best feature writer in the entire state - for three years in a row. Three years! And feature photographer for two. I had real jobs - I did.

But I couldn't be torn away from this . . . and here is my secret . . . I don't even like dance that much. But I like the teaching and the goofing around, and the getting to act 10 years old every single day of my life. So instead of reading articles in Time Magazine, and riding on campaign busses, this is the life I chose - for me - for you - for us.

This is what you have always known, what you will always remember. And that is good. Because I love that you think this is just how happy people live. I love that you think I don't have a job.