Running Red Momma

Many years ago, I couldn't dance to save my life or really impress anyone.  My older brother tried his hardest to help me find a beat at dances.  I still struggle to find that cool down beat.  If you have seen Eddie Murphy dance like "white people" that would be me.  Years later, I was trying to help my daughter get ready for a Christmas duet.  As I helped her find her pitch, I noticed my husband chuckling in the corner.  Finally, I whipped around to ask him what his problem was. He observed I always knew my daughter was off pitch.  However, I was consistently a half-step too low.  He is not being cruel-- this is not the first time I have heard about this problem.  It was like I was calibrated wrongly at birth.  That Sunday I thought to myself think higher, think higher.  I confidently plopped myself by him and sang "high".  I smiled and said, "well?"  "Still flat." Uggggg.   You see,  I have a secret dark list of things I never want to do b

I always find myself rushing about each day. Each second seems to count as I rush off to the next thing. One of my typical "mom mornings" found me in my usual spot. "Hurry, Hurry, get those shoes on, get that jacket...." I got one on the bus, one to preschool, dropped one off to a rec day care and hurried to my forty minute exercise break. I jumped in the pool to quickly get my stress reducing routine done. An older woman I know from church saw me and swam over to say hi. She told me she liked going to the pool because it got it her out of the house and gave her something to do. Wow. Same location, same time and same activity. Yet, we were here for such different reasons. I kept thinking about it as I swam.  I want to slow down and give things/people their space. I want to stop walking ahead of my children. I know you do it. Or, am I really that mean? I want to listen to their stories.  I want to not regret staying home/miss my former career girl life.

My daughter and I went to the ballet to see Romeo and Juliet. As I watched the ballerina, I was reminded of how much I had wanted to be a dancer when I was younger. Sadly, I couldn't jump rope without killing myself. Jumping Jacks were undoable. I wondered which way was it? Did the clear lack of coordination stop me from ballet? Or, could have ballet been the teacher to create more grace on my part? Yes, I was the kid in gym no one wanted on their team. Don't act surprised now. As I watched her hands/fingers help her dance, they told a beautiful story. They expressed: gratitude, delight, sorrow, regret, joy, beauty, longing and pain. Do you know what my hands can say? They can say stop that, shut-up, you are bugging me, or I'll give you something to cry about. Compare those two lists. Hmmmm. Do you think I could increase my vocabulary? Maybe if I knew how to dance, I would have nicer things to say.

As my sister and I have headed toward middle age, we have wondered how it is all going to work as we get older.  When do we wear elasticized pants?  When do we wear comfortable tennis shoes?  When can we eat ice cream for lunch because it doesn't matter?  Frankly, I'm looking forward to some of that stuff right now.  We arrived at 70.  We thought that would be the next era for us.   Along with that, as I thought about relationships, when does one put away the (close your eyes if you don't like frank talk)...well when does one stop wearing the thong?  When does your marriage embrace tasteful nightgowns?  I really couldn't see myself prancing out into the bedroom when I was much older.  My sister and I thought you must just hit this time where you put it all away.  I thought, it has to be around 50.  That sounds reasonable.   Yesterday, I found a woman way past that mark who still embraces all of life.  Guess, I gotta reset my clock.