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Posts Tagged ‘dance’

my island

Last weekend,
I wrote about how much
(and why) I love
the movie
Moana

Yesterday,
I bought
the soundtrack
for commute
brightening
purposes,
but:

The best
part of yesterday,
easily, was the Moana
bedtime dance party
I had with my three-year-old

On a 4×6 rug,
we went
away, away,
laughing and
twirling
together;

on our own little
rug-island
in space and time;

Like Moana and her
(granted, fictional) villagers,
having been there once,
I will now, always
be able to find
my way
back
(home)

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Categories: Movies, Music, Parenting Tags: , , ,

If Earth were heaven

My two-year-old, Littler J, really likes to dance.

If he hears more than a couple of notes of any tune, he turns to me and asks, “Wanna dance wif me?!”

He just now busted moves with his toy pig, which made me smile as I remembered a few minutes from last night.

“Final countdown!” shouted my seven-year-old, Li’l D, as he played with Baymax, a Captain America shield, and a motorcycle.

“Final countdown,” I sang back.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s an … old … song. Here, let me play it for you.”

I played the song, which he found highly unimpressive.

Autoplay moved to “Eye of the Tiger” next. (Of course it did.) Strangely, Littler barely seemed to notice.

But then? Then “Living on a Prayer” came on. Littler’s face lit up and he called, “Wanna dance wif me?!”

We bounced around the living room hand in hand until the last minute of the song, when my husband took over as Littler’s dance partner.

I surveyed the two for a moment, smiling at the wonderful, silly scene before me.

Do I wanna dance wif my boys? Why, if Earth were heaven,
I’d spend every second doing just that.

happy run

Freedom to walk outside without fear

Last week I wondered about the color of justice in my country.

Last night’s delivery of the Ferguson grand jury decision played out about as I expected it. Even anticipating it, I awakened feeling gloomy about prospects for real change in the United States. I continue to wonder

What it will take for police officers everywhere to approach men of all melanin levels in the exact same way, treating shooting as a last case resort in all cases.

I wonder how change can take root when bystanders support status quo by focusing attention on property damage over fatal violence.

changeAnd yet, with all this heaviness in my heart, I find reason to smile in the tiny men who own that heart. I can’t help giggling at how my baby is doing headstands–yes, headstands–while my husband tries to change his diaper.

I watch him dance and wonder what else will inspire him to dance in the years to come.

I pray freedom to walk outside without fear will carry his dancing feet far.

Skateboarding, dancing and the art of learning merrily

I am not afraid of looking ridiculous.

My first few times on a skateboard surely fit the bill. Moving 0.2 miles per hour along the walkway behind my old apartment, I was sure I was perpetually just about to fall and crack my skull. This meant I spent much, much more time off the skateboard than on it: Ack! A leaf! I better hop off and walk past it just in case!

Slowly I grew a little more confident. I moved faster and ended up stumbling less; the speed actually helped me cruise over small obstacles my wheels would otherwise trip over. I was eventually able to skate after my running son while holding his tricycle in one hand, much to the mirth of people I rolled by. “You’re one fun mom!”

Else why would I wear Vibrams?

Yesterday I stepped on the skateboard for the first time in many, many moons. I did better than I expected, but not nearly as well as when I last rode consistently.

But you know what? It was a blast.

This fits the bill for something else I’ve start doing recently.

Inspired by my newly beloved So You Think You Can Dance, I’m teaching myself hip-hop. In my kitchen.

I’ve tried dancing a couple of times before, but stopped quickly each time because I was terrible. Because, you know, beginners should be great.

My mom and youngest sister often went ballroom dancing together. I joined them once, but was so awed by their mad moves that I quickly backed out. I couldn’t dance like that! Not ever! Clearly it was rational to compare the skill of my first dances with their skill after taking numerous classes. Yep.

Rational or not, I’ve continued to feel like dancing probably wasn’t something I could do. Watching So You Think You Can Dance recently has filled me with a longing to move along, but a simultaneous sense of impossibility of ever doing so well. Read more…

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