Call it bravery. Call it stupidity. Whatever you call it, take my word, call it quits!
Maybe it was the fact that I was turning 35 last week that got me into a free spirited kind of mood. Whatever it was, I had to face the facts, I wasn't 34 any longer. And despite what you may have heard, Yes Virginia, there is a difference!
It started with an invite to my son Potter's bedroom last week. Both him and Scooter had the music blasting. Just the previous night, they had sat in the living room watching an episode of "So You Think You Can Dance? Let's just say they were inspired.
What was Potter's bedroom just a short 15 minutes before, had been transformed into a combination of Studio 54, a gymnasium, and a stage show that any child would be jealous of.
And my dear friends, I had a golden ticket!
After my children showed off a few choice moves of their own, I was asked if I wanted to join in.
Me, I thought? Well of course I wanted to join in.
And this is where the horror begins. Because something so strange happens to a person when her sister decides to put "The Best of the Eighties" dance hits on a CD and give it as a present to her children. Her children in turn jack the volume up to deafening decibels only to create memories of neon, Miami Vice, and hairspray flash through their mommies brain.
I remember the words I spoke so clearly that night: "Want Mommy to teach you a dance move?"
It was at this point that I should have consulted with my inner Jiminy Cricket. But no, not me. I continued on with my foolishness. Right up until that point where a fiery pain shot across my stomach. I remember curling into a small ball all the while trying to convince my children that Act 1 had still not come to a close. I smiled until I couldn't smile any longer.
I think Potter finally caught on when I left out a small moan. I thought for sure internal bleeding was occurring.
"Are you OK Mommy?" He asked. "Because that was so cool!"
"Cool, I thought?" Did this child not understand the concept of 911? I was sure I heard something inside my body pop.
Although I tried to encourage other dance moves such as the Moonwalk, the Robot, and the Cabbage Patch. My children still thought Mommy's dance move was the best.
I'm officially a year older, a year slower and a year smarter (debatable). I have mastered gaining weight, and losing my mind. I have come, saw and kicked my own @#$! I have had my heart melt, and experienced melt downs all in the same 10 minutes. I am one year closer to hot flashes; yet my kids still think I'm the coolest person in the world.
Not too bad for 35. I'm enjoying it already.