Two to Tango ~ Dana

Last weekend I completely stepped out of my comfort zone and, at the age of 38, performed the Argentine Tango in my first dance recital.

Here’s how it all came about. A very good friend of mine is a professional ballroom dancer. In fact, he and his professional partner recently came in 3rd in the world in an international competition in Amsterdam. I met Jaime when my husband bought us West Coast Swing dance lessons for Valentine’s Day before we had kids. Since then, Jaime and I have danced on and off, just for fun, in my living room and have become dear friends. This last October, we were talking about my birthday and how I was struggling with the recent loss of my father.

“Remember the part in the movie Evita when the couples are dancing the tango, clinging to each other in their sadness after her death?” I asked him one night. “Can you just come and dance with me? Can I just cling to you and cry and tango?”

Without a second thought, Jaime said to me, “I’ll do one better. I will choreograph a tango and you and I will dance it in honor of your father at the studio’s showcase in January.” I sobbed.

Now, let me represent my Long Beach State Volleyball girls and say that I can dance… up in the nightclubs. If you were out dancing on Second Street in Long Beach some time between 1995 and 1998, we probably danced together, especially if you were at Belmont Station. You would have noticed us, me and my 6 foot and above teammates. But let me be the first to tell you that dancing out there is WAY different than dancing in the ballroom. Way. Poor Jaime. There’s probably nothing worse than trying to get the nightclub dancer out of a girl. And to be honest, I didn’t realize just how much I really needed to learn.

The first day that I came to the studio, it was pouring rain. Jaime was waiting in the dance room, dressed in slacks, and a vest and tie. He began teaching me the Argentine Tango and I cried. A lot. Over the next weeks and months, we met every Wednesday. Every Wednesday he showed up for me, taught me, let me cry, and demanded my best, for me and for my father.

Luckily I understand what my body is doing, but at almost 40, it can be hard to make my knees do what I want them to. When did start to move like an old lady? My favorite thing that Jaime says to me is, “Ok, do it again, but this time don’t make it look like you’re in pain.” Damn it.

All week long I had been filled with emotion: love for my dad, sorrow for missing him, gratitude for Jaime’s friendship, nervousness for wanting to do well. Saturday night, when I couldn’t sleep, I found Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 on television. Near the end, as Harry is preparing to face his enemy, he is surrounded by his parents, and others, who have died. He looks at his mother and says, “Why are you here?” and she looks at him with love and says, “We never left.” I looked into the darkness, hoping to see, perhaps, my dad sitting in the leather club chair across the room. I whispered, “Are you still here, too?”

Sunday was our big day. With perfectly coifed hair and gorgeous makeup, I stepped onto the dance floor with my darling friend. We danced to “Milonga del Angel” by Astor Piazzolla, a beautifully sad and mournful tango song.

Fast, sharp, explosive steps and kicks, followed by slow, passionate accents and movements, characterize the tango itself. I can still hear Jaime’s voice from rehearsals, “Slow, slow, quick, quick, up… and… fast, swivel, swivel, swivel, stop!” And so goes the dance of grief. There are times of rage, of desperation, of explosive pain; and there are times of quiet sadness, of nostalgia. And it’s often surprising to me how intertwined they all become.

So I had my dance. I had my Evita moment and clung to my partner in sorrow. And it was life-changing. My family and my friends, who have been so unfailingly supportive the last eight months, surrounded me once more. And by becoming vulnerable, by opening my wounded heart for others to see, I invited in healing. I invited in love. By allowing them to carry me through the hard days, I find the strength to carry on. And I was again reminded that love goes on living, long after the body dies.

And to Jaime, thank you. Thank you for your generosity of spirit. Thank you for your grace and elegance. Thank you for your professionalism and your amazing talent. And mostly, thank you for sharing all of that with me, dear friend. I love you.

Call Me Ma’am ~ Jen

Dear Nice Young Lady at Target,

You’re busy being a 20 something so I’m going to get right to it.

I’m 41.

You and I may have babies the same age. We may live in the same housing tract. We may even go to the same church. Even so, you should not be calling me “hon”. Not just because you don’t know me—which honestly, should be reason enough—but also because I am older, and there’s a hierarchy to familiarity. As much as I hate to say it, to you I’m a “ma’am”.

So is the older lady laboriously writing a check while three of us wait behind. As crazy as she makes you, she’s definitely a “ma’am” to you and to me and mostly everyone else in the whole dang store. Not a “hon”, with patronizing patience. She’s 85 if she’s a day and we all should be “ma’am”ing her and asking if we can help her out to her car. She’s earned that respect by living this long.

I would have kept quiet, except you called the WWII vet behind me “hon” as I was leaving. He fought in the Pacific—I know this because we chatted it up while the nice old lady wrote her check, a conversation that I ended by saying “Have a nice day, sir”. But you said “Don’t worry about it, hon”.

He might say that he likes it when a cute young thing calls him “hon”, but that is not the point.

The point is this: we used to revere the elders in our society, or at least reached for that standard. At the same time, we cut them serious slack. They could take as long as they wanted. They could say what they thought. They could even belch at the table. And everyone more than ten years younger was required to stand in their presence until invited to sit and address them respectfully as “ma’am” or “sir”.

You know this is a small town dominated by a master planned retirement community built in the 40s. The median age in this community has to be 80. There is no new retirement blood coming in because 60 is the new 50 and Boomers don’t know how to retire. We have all these folks, with their experience and their wisdom—and yes, their checkbooks and their belief that no one should drive a car over 35 miles per hour—who are learning to live in today’s world.

Can you imagine what that must feel like to someone who was 18 in 1943?

So these older folks, they may seem like they are obsolete, or child like. But they aren’t. So let’s agree not to treat them that way. Let’s find our “sir” and our “ma’am” and spread respect like we are called to spread love.

And let’s leave the rest of the sentiment for the kids.

Thanks.

Vanilla Brown Sugar Body Scrub ~ Dana

Oh, winter. You bring with you so many lovely things: comfort food, cozy fires, Christmas… but why, oh why must you always bring me dry skin?

It’s true. I have super, super dry skin. And this is the first winter that I have been making my own homemade lotion. I loved it in the summer, but I’m going to be honest, I haven’t loved it in the winter. My elbows, my arms, my legs feel like alligator skin. They’re awful. I’m embarrassed.

The thought crossed my mind, just for a moment, to just go buy a bottle of Lubriderm and slather it on my scaly skin. But not willing to give up my all-natural beauty regimen, nor to pay $8.99 for a bottle of lotion, I began searching the Internet for even more skin-nourishing alternatives.

And I found this: Vanilla Brown Sugar Body Scrub at www.bystephanielynn.com. Sign me up. Turns out it’s exceedingly simple to make and I already had the ingredients on hand. I’m sure you do, too.

First, mix together 2 cups of brown sugar and 1 cup of white sugar until all of the lumps are gone. This is an important step. I didn’t do it the first time and ended up with lots of lumps that didn’t mix up once I put the oil in.

Next, you stir in 1 cup sunflower oil, (I used safflower oil, which is sold at my local grocery store. You could use olive oil, but it has a much stronger scent, a scent that does not mix well with vanilla) and 1 Tablespoon vanilla until well mixed.

Finally, scoop into a sealable glass jar (I had this one in the 16 oz size from the Container Store, but you could also use a mason jar) and viola! You have a wonderful body scrub that will make your dry skin a thing of the past. I use it in the shower, after soap, before my final rinse, then I just pat my skin dry with a towel. I have also been known to use it on my face, which is also extremely dry.

And if you have chapped lips this winter, use it as a lip scrub before you put on your favorite lip balm. Bonus: it tastes wonderful!

Happy winter, everyone.

Cravin’ ~ Jen

One of the best things about blogging has been the other bloggers that we’ve “met”.

Miss Indeedy is a Christian mom somewhere in New England with two kids, a past volleyball career and a passion for Alabama football. She writes with a gentle wit and faith that we just love.

A while ago, she introduced another Christian website called Proverbs 31 Ministry.

Secular feminists have a lot to say about Proverbs 31 and its very specific description of a noble wife. When I was younger (and unmarried), I felt the constraints of the expectations of the scripture—that a noble wife was one who cared all hours of the day for her husband and family. And I still acknowledge that a literal, strict interpretation of this passage could lead some to believe that a woman’s God-given place does not require education, career, personal choice or other forms of autonomy.

But I’m a Catholic and we don’t do literal interpretations. Turns out, I’ve discovered that being a wife and mom means I do in fact work 24/7. Not constraining, just the reality of my personal choice. And since I stay home, my contributions to my family pretty much follow the scripture exactly in terms of division of labor.

Even so, I was worried about Proverbs 31 Ministry. Visions of braided hair and prairie dresses and other such things that are just not for this Christian feminist.

I should have known Miss Indeedy would not lead me astray.

In the About section of Proverbs 31 Ministry:

“Who We Are

Proverbs 31 Ministries is a non-denominational, non-profit Christian ministry that seeks to lead women into a personal relationship with Christ. With Proverbs 31:10-31 as a guide, Proverbs 31 Ministries reaches women in the middle of their busy days through free devotions, daily radio message, speaking events, conferences, resources, online Bible studies, and training in the call to write, speak and lead others. We are real women offering real-life solutions to those striving to maintain life’s balance, in spite of today’s hectic pace and cultural pull away from godly principles. Wherever a woman may be on her spiritual journey, Proverbs 31 Ministries exists to be a trusted friend who understands the challenges she faces, walks by her side, encouraging her as she walks toward to the heart of God.”

(www.proverbs31.org)

Then I bought a book by one of the founders, Lysa TerKeurst, called What Happens When Women Say Yes to God. It was a simple, strong read, with guided Bible study at the end of each chapter. To be honest, it’s a little too Chicken Soup for the Soul in some parts for my taste, but I am a very cynical reader. And the foundational message was so powerful and right in line with my resolution to Be this year.

This is where it gets providential, because of my post about my weight and my determination to be the healthiest version of my heavy self as possible. After I finished What Happens, I thought I might try one of their online Bible studies. So I looked up the next one. Guess what it is:

“Join the next Proverbs 31 Ministries online Bible study, Made to Crave, and you will:

Break the cycle of “I’ll start again on Monday,” and feel good about yourself today.
Stop agonizing over the numbers on the scale and make peace with your body.
Replace rationalizations that lead to failure with wisdom that leads to victory.
Reach your healthy goals and grow closer to God in the process.”(www.proverbs31.org)

Dang. It’s like they knew I was coming.

The study is free, and the book is available for purchase on Proverbs 31 Ministry for $14.99. The study starts Sunday, January 19 and you can sign up on the website. There are already 30,000 women good to go—their largest online Bible study ever.

I’ll be there. Miss Indeedy will be there. Want to join us and see what happens?

The Things I Will Miss ~ Dana

It’s no secret that having two kids under three, like we do, is no joke. Having two kids under two was no joke either. My husband was over 40 when our second child was born, and let’s be real, I’m not that far behind. We are exhausted. We feel old. We look at people with older children with longing, and a twinge of jealousy. And by twinge, I mean huge green streak.

And when those moms of older kids look at me and say, “Oh, enjoy every moment! They grow so quickly!” I curse at them under my breath and usually say, in my best funny-ironic-sarcastic tone, “Not quick enough!” But I really mean, “I feel like this will never end. I have not had a good night’s sleep in literally three years, and I have someone else’s poop on my pants and their boogers on my shirt.” And sorry, but I really want to smack those women. Not smack. Sock. Right in the jaw.

But the other day, as I was looking down at my sweet little Violet, who just turned one before Thanksgiving, I had a little moment. She is our last baby and you know, there are things that I will miss when they do go away. So I thought I would share them with you. I know that some of you moms and dads out there are overwhelmed and tired, too. And it is so frustrating sometimes. But lest these moments do pass so quickly (which I’m still not convinced of) let me take a moment to honor them:

Little feet – I love baby feet! And I love the way they kick their feet and legs when you pick them up! When does that start? Around 4 or 5 months? When does it stop? I don’t remember, but Violet is 14 months and she still does it. I’m noticing it every time and I love it.
The four-toothed smile – Am I right? The teeth change their smile so much. Violet’s two bottom teeth are close together but those top teeth are far apart. And when I see them, all four of them, they are the cutest teeth in the world.
We’re friends – Now I know, I know, be their mother, not their friend. But when I asked Mazie which friends she wanted to invite to her 3^rd birthday and she replied, “Mommy, and Daddy, and Grammie,” my heart melted. She wants to invite ME to her birthday party! Done.
Piggies on my knee – Do any of your kids do this? While we’re sitting at the table eating, Mazie puts her feet on my leg. All the time. Every time. I love piggies on my knee.
Holding them while they fall asleep – This is a no-brainer. Who doesn’t love to hold a sleeping baby? But as I was giving Violet her bottle the other night, I felt her warmth, felt her breath, and realized that this, too, will be gone soon. And it’s ok, because it will be awesome to send them up to brush their teeth after eating popcorn and watching a movie together, then coming into their rooms to tuck them in… but for just a few more months, I get to hold this sweet little girl in my arms while she drifts off to sleep. Awesome.
Dueling naps in the stroller – Granted, when this happens, then we’re pretty much tied to the stroller… but I just love this. And yes, I realize that’s two sleeping things right in a row.
Two girls, one lap – They’re still little enough that they both fit on my lap. Le sigh…
So tired moms of little ones, let’s band together and get through this. We can do it. And you moms who have older ones, maybe, just maybe you could tell us what a great job we’re doing? Maybe a hand on my shoulder with a “hang in there!” attached? You survived it, but I’m pretty sure you didn’t cherish EVERY moment. Especially the poop-filled ones!

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: