This morning everyone was a little off. The baby was fussy, Claire was fussy and so was I. Mid-morning, I was nearing a melt-down and I could smell tantrums right outside the door. Then from some deep part of my soul, my single-girl inner self spoke to me. She said two words. Dance. Party.
I have learned to listen when that inner single-girl speaks so I turned on some of my favorite songs and just started dancing. All alone in my kitchen. Claire was crying because she wanted someone to sit with her in the bathroom while she pooped and Noah was fussing on the floor. He joined me first. I picked him up and we danced around the kitchen. I plopped him in his johnny-jump-up and he jumped and laughed. Claire, naked as a jaybird, joined us less than a minute later. She later decided she was getting cold so she put her arms in her pajamas backward--so her little tummy was covered but her bum was hanging out the back, her pajamas a penguin print fleece hospital gown of sorts*.
Twenty mintues later everything seemed different. Everyone was cheerier and we quickly got ready and headed out for a play date.
It's funny that in those 20 minutes I swear I was channeling the strength of a single-girl life already lived. I laughed and smiled remembering college dance parties in the living room and how the kitchen in my 3rd Av house had perfect acoustics and when the music stopped I was suddenly ready to face life again--crying kids and runny noses.
I am grateful to that single-girl life that I lived. I am grateful that it was long, full of good friends, good music and lots and lots of dancing.
*I did stop to take pictures of her little bum sticking out of her jammies but I don't like to post naked pictures of my kids on the internet because of the pervs.
***This is our families current favorite dance track.