An Epiphany at Arctic Circle

The other day my company gave us a surprise bonus of an extra paid holiday. So I was able to stay home with Halle all day—pretty much my most favorite thing in the world to do. She wanted to go to Arctic Circle for lunch. So we headed there around noon.

Normally, I'm at work all day so I don't see the usual lunch crowd out and about in this part of Orem. When we got there, I had to chuckle to myself. Scattered throughout the restaurant, whether seated or in line were about five young moms and their kids (at least 2-4 each). Not the funny part. I laughed when I noticed that four of these five moms (including myself) were also noticeably pregnant. I'm sure this is the pretty normal ratio of pregnant to non-pregnant women around here (I'm one of four pregnant women in my office at the moment). Apparently, lunchtime at Arctic Circle is a popular gathering place. Utah County loves babies. :)

I was surprised by how I felt in that situation. The whole atmosphere felt more than a little foreign to me. My experience has been so different--for so long. I realized that making the transition into the SAHM world might take me some time. But it's still a switch I would make tomorrow, if I could. This is me patiently waiting till October. Four months sort of feels like an eternity.

Plug for the Disney Machine

We recently took a little family trip to southern California. No, this post will not be a travel log of our every move. Just wanted to share one impressive moment:

As we were leaving Disneyland for the last time, in the evening just before fireworks (we didn’t stay in the park for the fireworks, but instead watched them from the hotel balcony across the street in order to minimize the big “booms” that petrify Halle) we saw Mickey close to the front entrance. Halle desperately wanted to say goodbye to him before we left. As usual, he had a whole line of people in front of him waiting for autographs and pictures. Just as we were about to get in line, a “Disney Bouncer” (as I called them) showed up and told us all that Mickey couldn’t see any more people because he needed to head to the castle for the fireworks. Halle didn’t understand that at all and still waited patiently, expecting him to notice her. 

Hubby had the idea to move in the general direction of the castle and wait there, knowing that Mickey would eventually walk that way. As we stood there and as Mickey continued to interact with the few people left in line to see him, Halle kept calling out to him, hoping he would notice her. It broke my heart. I thought to myself, “Great, we had a fantastic time these last two days and all she’ll remember is how Mickey snubbed her before we left.” 

Hubby was right (as usual) and Mickey eventually headed in our direction as he waved to everyone around him. To my surprise, he headed right toward Halle and another little boy standing to her right. He gave the boy a hug and then walked over to Halle, bent down to her level, and gave her a high five. The look on her face was priceless. In her mind, she and Mickey were tight, best pals, friends forever. She felt special. I could have grabbed Mickey right then and there and given him a huge smooch. I didn’t (Hubby, I’m sure, is glad I spared him the embarrassment). I just smiled back at my beaming little girl and shamelessly exaggerated her moment. That “Mickey” was trained very well—trained to notice every child in his general area and do whatever he could to reach out to them, even while trying to make his exit. I was impressed. Well done, Disney. Well done.