A Musing Mother 6

I mean, obviously you shouldn't compare your children to mine. You'll just feel bad. But the talent just oozes in this kid. Someday you will see him on "So You Think You Can Dance."

"Tonight we have Jazz Night at the high school," my 16 year old informed us at dinner. "Do we have to go?" the 11 year old boy wanted to know. "It will be fun!" she continued, "there will be food and dancing." "Dancing?!" I was suddenly very excited.  I'd been perfecting new hip hop moves from an exercise DVD earlier that day. The 16 year old suddenly looked horrified. "Not you! You may NOT dance!" Mmmkay - but this may directly impact your grade, Missy. We arrived and sat. The band director kept making motions for people to get up and dance. I finally left my family and joined the "cool table" closer to the band. I might add that this very well may just complete my bucket list. Had I made a bucket list when I was a teenager, no doubt it would have included going to Reo Speedwagon and Bon Jovi concerts, lose my virginity and sit at the "cool" table in the cafeteria. Done. Done. Done. And done. The cool ...

There's a little Thai dig in a nearby town that serves the best Thai food I'd ever had. Given, I'm not exactly a Thai connoisseur. In fact, My best friend from college introduced me to Thai food a few years ago. I was immediately hooked and loved it immensely. Every few months my dance friends and I get together for lunch or dinner, depending on who can watch the children. That's a rule. No children are allowed, although two babies have accompanied two of us on occasion. As soon as they could string a sentence together and dominate conversation, their invitations were revoked. Kristy, Jennifer, Kari and I danced together for six years at Kristy's dance studio. Kristy and Jennifer are beautiful dancers. Kari and I worked harder to look graceful. The dance class was always in the middle of the week at the end of the day. Sometimes I was simply too tired to drive the 20 minutes, dance for an hour then drive 20 minutes home. But I kept doing it over and over and over ag...

My great, great grandfather David, came from France via Scotland as an indentured servant. He was 7 years old at the time. He grew up, left the family, fought in the Civil War (for the North) then moved West, planting his roots in very small county in Idaho where he married my great, great grandmother. They built a house and popped out my great grandfather, David, and then another son a couple of years later. Due to complications, my great, great grandmother died. The baby died a couple of weeks later. David Sr. married another woman from Idaho within a few years and they had 5 children together. Once again, his wife died in childbirth and he was a single father of 6 children. He decided to hire help rather than marry again and so he did.  Being married to David LaPray was apparently hazardous to your health. After 12 years or so, he married one of his hired helpers, a pretty young thing that I will call Martha for lack of remembering her name. She had two or three children and sur...

I saw my friend, Colleen, on Friday.  I used to run into her when I went to the rec. center.  I stopped going a long time ago and asked her if she's still going.  "I haven't gone since I broke my collarbone." Okay, I'll bite. "How did you break your collarbone?" "I crashed my motorcycle when I went over a jump." "You do know you're 50 years old, right?" "Yeah. My midlife crisis make me do fun things. Want to see what I did for my 40th birthday?" She angled her leg so I could see her the tattoo on her ankle.  A four inch image of Winnie the Pooh. "Aren't you due for a midlife crisis? What are you going to do?" I've been wondering that one for awhile and told her so.  I can't get a tattoo because my kids will automatically either judge me or  view it as permission to get their own. The same goes with any extreme sport. I don't care about cars so I won't get a sports car. An affair is out. My c...

The other day my son was sent to the bathroom for a potty break at daycare.  Sometimes he forgets he has to go and just plays and wiggles. We affectionately call it "the potty dance." He returned with the update and solid advice to the daycare staff: "No pee came out but you should really decorate the bathroom with Springtime decorations so I have something to look at while I'm waiting for my pee." Huh.  Usually I'm happy with a magazine or book.  To each his own, I guess.

The other day my son was sent to the bathroom for a potty break at daycare.  Sometimes he forgets he has to go and just plays and wiggles. We affectionately call it "the potty dance." He returned with the update and solid advice to the daycare staff: "No pee came out but you should really decorate the bathroom with Springtime decorations so I have something to look at while I'm waiting for my pee." Huh.  Usually I'm happy with a magazine or book.  To each his own, I guess.