Remember the time I told you about how bad I am at Zumba? It not, you can quickly relive my shame here Zomething other than Zumba. The Cliff Notes version is as follows – I am terribly, awkwardly uncoordinated. I mean that seriously – as in I don’t typically walk in a straight line – because it’s nearly impossible. I would likely fail a field sobriety test that required a person to walk toe to toe for any period of time. I couldn’t do that stone cold sober – come to think of it I would be pretty rusty at going through the alphabet backwards if there was a time limit on it too. I wonder how many tests there are out there to prove sobriety and if I could pass any of them…
If you are going to suggest that I get comfortable dancing and doing Zumba moves the old fashion way – by drinking excessively (in a fixed location so I wouldn’t be driving of course…) I will have to shut you down there too. The combination of addictive personality disorders that are hauntingly familiar to my family tree coupled with my can do spirit is a bad combination. Which means many things, most notably that anything over three drinks has historically never ended well for me.
I was content to gloss over this deficiency – because, when would I ever be on the spot to work on my Zumba moves again? Never, right? A projected timeline of “Never” sounded pretty good to me.
So, why, you might wonder, am I creating this post while listening to “The Anthem” by Pitbull (with Lil John hollering “lets go ladies!” occasionally in my ear) as I make weird shoulder shrugs one at a time with no consideration for the beat? (No joke, in one particularly inspired shrug I accidently hit my own ear which is now red and throbbing – that is the level of coordination you are dealing with here.) Because of the children, of course!
Yesterday after school, Big Sister handed me a permission slip asking if she could pleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease start after school dance practice beginning the following day. She just had to, I mean HAD TO do this and would I be so kind as to ask if it was okay with Daddy because timeliness would be valued in this situation. I read the flier that asked for third grade participants to volunteer the next five Tuesdays after school. They would be spending that time rehearsing a group dance for Multi-cultural night with a concentration of the Celebration of Hispanic Heritage Month.
After practice tonight, she couldn’t wait to show me the sequence – and I was certainly intrigued. My eye might have twitched a tiny bit as I loaded the following YouTube video. There it was – a Zumba sequence. I wanted to spare my sweet girl from finding out that she was likely afflicted with my dance-less disorder. But as I watched the clip, I heard a strange thing – my girl was clapping – perfectly synched to the beat. I watched this little person who I had always thought resembled me so closely – as if I had never seen her before. After one practice, she had the moves down and transitioned seamlessly, jumping (and getting air! How do people DO THAT?!), mirroring the moves of the dancers on the screen. I sat completely transfixed – she was smiling so authentically that I had no option but to move my body a little too. With sage encouragement, she nodded to me – vowing to “practice together as long as we needed – you’ll get it, one day Mom”!
So here I sit, trying to move less like Frankenstein with the hope that she’s right. I said never again. Who knew that never meant maybe in a few months?