I love to dance. Love it. Even when I was 7.5 months pregnant I was gettin low at wedding receptions. My husband has often said that “he married Awkward,” and is embarrassed of me in a variety on contexts; wedding receptions being one where he literally will not claim me. I guess because in other venues where I dance, those in attendance may never see us again. But a wedding, not so much. And to be truthful I don’t have moves… I have A move, which I modify depending on the genre of music. But dancing is so much fun! No matter what you look like when you move uninhibitedly, there is shear joy in jammin as best as you can, with as much fun as you can, with no thought of what someone else may think. …Which I think may be something helpful to apply to this journey of parenting that I’m finding myself in.
My son is starting to get the itch for “unorganized choreography” like his momma. He already has favorite songs and songs that displease him for whatever reason. We like Kanye, we don’t like Lady Antebellum. Don’t know why. Anywho… No matter where we are and whatever his mood, when I begin to sing and dance, whatever is ailing takes a backseat. Which, if you have not yet sung Black Eyed Peas, Boom Boom Pow to your 6 month old while rockin it out in a Post Office surrounded my 20 people who do not speak English… you have not yet lived my friends. You have not yet lived.
And last night I was reminded how the essence of dance can help us remember what we sometimes forget when the munchkins are stressful or on those weeks you fear that one day you may belong in the same category as Dina Lohan.
So, last night. Last night I was directing a wedding at the Four Seasons. I don’t mention this to brag, but to take the opportunity to mention that I did see Charles Barkley there. Just kidding. No really, I did see him. The context does inform the story. sorta. Yada, yada… So, the bride, groom, family, and guests were super-sweet, but like me, a little awkward. I even mentioned to the DJ that I didn’t think it would get wild. Not so. As soon as the dance-floor opened everyone started having a fabulous time, including this couple who had to be in their 70’s-early 80’s. They danced all night. For 4 hours. They danced to Top 20, Aretha, MJ, everything. They were in their own world. I literally couldn’t stop watching them. I kept finding myself laughing out loud at their unrestrained, ridiculous celebration. Everyone else could have left, which they did do at some points… and they just kept dancing. Sometimes even aimlessly wandering the dance floor, but always moving. Always finding each other. They were moving as best as they could, with as much fun as you can have at a wedding, with little thought of what someone else may think. They were DANCING!
Some days as a young parent, it seems like ‘my best’ is simply to keep my child alive. I have all these aspirations of doing everything possible for his spiritual, emotional, physical, and intellectual development… And then there is today. It’s Palm Sunday and we didn’t even make it to church. And other than the given diaper changes and feedings, I read a 3 page book to him and sat him in a cardboard box with an “educational toy” while I made dinner. Look out world, we’ve got a winner. …But even if I had done his baby yoga, gone over his phonics sounds, practiced our sign language, etc… it would have all been a little empty with out the fun and frolic we had dancing to Barenaked Ladies and talking about how God made the world and thinks my son is pretty swell.
So, I am barely a parent and don’t actually know what I am talking about and my child went to bed with out a bath… but here is what I think. Parents: I think you should give yourself a break. Stop worrying and running and putting so much pressure on yourselves. Trust your kids to God. Move as best you can. Boogie down with the one move you’ve got. Have some fun! Side Note: No one likes to be anywhere that isn’t fun. You want your kids to like being home? F-U-N! Celebrate National Crayon Day! Have a dance party! Have an ice cream fight. Go through the carwash… without your car.
Not that I’m saying parenting your children and raising them right is all fun and frolic… It does mean being intentional. Modeling. Teaching. Beginning now to give them the virtues and tools they will need to launch and live their own lives…
But boy, if they can dance… If they can find delight in the many notes and songs that life will bring… If they can find a partner that makes all that ails take a backseat… If they can jump and laugh in the Post Office… If they modeled your confidence and joy… If they find their own beat and rock it… If they found fun in the every-day… I think you would impulsively hug Charles Barkley too.
Each night when I lay my son down in his crib… I pray 3 things. That I will always hold him with open hands. That he will grow to seek The Way. And that he will dance. His own, crazy, wonderful dance… the one he was made for.
So don’t let your stress be contagious. Let it be your delight that they catch on to. And if you can, turn up the beat every-once-in-a-while. It doesn’t matter if you even like the song or if you have to mumble part of the words. It doesn’t matter where you are or if your kids want to disown you… just dance. Take those little blessings by the hand and help them find their move. Moves, if they are lucky.
