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.  

Years ago, my husband took me cross-country skiing.  No big deal unless you understand I have no tolerance for myself in learning things.  I am a perfectionist with no patience.  Can you think of a more toxic combination?  That day as I attempted to climb a hill in my slippery skis, I had it.  I sat myself down, ripped off my skis and hurled them over the hill.  I was proud to keep the swear words in my head.  My husband hid behind a tree watching the whole scene.  We had been married long enough for him to know the monster.  To this day, I have only played chess twice with him. (Yes, I was learning how to play.) Yesterday, my two-year-old daughter decided it was time to learn to dress-- it was time to walk away from the toddler years.  During her first attempt, her two legs got stuck in the same hole. As I walked in, she sat on the floor refusing help from anyone.  Her screams were enough to scare anyone away.  My husband chuckled, "Yup she is yours."  Besides the wonderful ...

It is sad to say that I seem to get more done when I am not on the internet.  I just get sucked in to facebook and blogging. What am I working on?  Yes, I am still trying to get organized.  I can't seem to get the stuff I don't want out of my house. It just stays in bags.  Sigh.   I am thinking of a possibly cultural no-no. I thinking of selling my wedding dress. I have great pictures of it.  It is not the right color, ivory, for my daughters.  It will not fit them as they get bigger.  They both seem to headed for a height much more than mine. I don't wear it anymore.  How taboo is that? And do I care?  It just sits there. I'm getting rid of my menus feature.  Originally, I put it there for my sisters.  However, I don't think it is helping anyone.  I thought I might change a menu to a list of acts of kindness I see in strangers.  That might be a positive note.

The introduction to Stevie Wonder's greatest hits album describes a scene in the desert where a man riding a camel listens to "Superstition" on his boom box.  Fast forward to the present at the Grammys.  Stevie Wonder sang with the Jonas Brothers last night.  At first, I thought what crap is that?  I'm sure "Burnin' Up" is hot with the twelve-year-olds.  But, through the muck of the vocals and sad guitar,  I wanted the boys to back-off and stop putting their heads right next to Stevie. Step away from the legend dude.  Were they really worthy to jam so close to him?  When they shouted "Come on Stevie!"  No, you come on, I thought.  Yes, I know the Grammy's celebrate the transcendence of music.  I sat there squishing my eyebrows,  suddenly, the noise stilled and music entered. Superstition's universal dance chords were being hit and I bopped my head in happiness.  (I know this seems like lazy blogging--but you can check out what I mean.) ...