Don't miss the dance show in your basement.

Sometimes tidbits of conversations sink in hours after I hear them. A few minutes ago I realized Bee had said, "we're dancers and you and daddy are the audience!" as I was running up the stairs to some important task or another. Laundry? Words With Friends? I must have yelled back something like, "that's nice" or "in a minute" because in the distance I heard her rephrase, "we're dancers and DADDY is the audience!" It was one of those things you don't think about as you're rushing through your morning. Ah, I remember now, I was running to flip the pancakes I had abandoned to change a load of laundry.

But I missed the dance show in my basement.

I used to ache to have a little girl. When I was trying and failing to get pregnant, I'd spend hours crying because all I wanted was a child. I never pictured a baby when I pined, which is just as well because Bee came out rolling her eyes and ordering lattes anyway. I always pictured a three-year-old. Even when Bee had just learned to sit up by herself, I'd put markers in her hands and paper in front of her. I'd try to have conversations. Ever have a conversation with a four month old? Lots of drool. Not many teeth. But I tried. I was ready for that preschool stage when they ask about everything and put on impromptu dance shows with their little sisters in the basement as you're trying to cook breakfast.

Somewhere along the way I got busy and maybe a little burned out. I started teaching play group at the local church and while it was fun at first and I got to use all my creative energy (mad crafting skillz, decent Hokey Pokey moves), eventually it became a chore. Preparing a craft for 20 toddlers involves a lot of cutting and planning. There were some politics with the other moms and after awhile the pressure and the stress of getting two kids, supplies and book in tow, and then hoping Buh-Stell didn't climb on my face during circle time just wore on me. I'd come home after playgroup and need to recover, just pop the kids in front of a screen and zone out until nap time. This fall I only taught the first week of "school" before handing over the reins to focus on our move. And now, the move has taken over. And I'm missing impromptu basement dance shows.

When you don't have time to think, life is just rushes around you. Tidbits of conversations get lost in the tornado of packing backpacks and throwing lunches together. Crap, there's a showing of the house, I have to pick up milk and where are my keys? I've spent more time on hold with customer service than I have listening for tidbits. Our big goal is getting to a new house and supposedly starting our picturesque life in the suburbs. We'll have a fireplace for Santa! A yard in which to frolic! It'll be so Norman Rockwell  . . . if we can ever get there. And in the meantime, life is swirling and swishing past us, eclipsing impromptu dance shows by my babies.

Today? I'm taking a break. An Internet break. A phone break. A cleaning strike. A cooking strike. I'm taking one day for impromptu dance shows. See ya tomorrow, life tornado. My 2007 self is quantum leaping into my present day happiness and not missing a second of it.

 

Filed under: Mom & Pa Faux Pas

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