Mondays and Fridays

I am incredibly fortunate to have a part time schedule that allows me to be at home with my daughter on Mondays and Fridays.  In a way, I’m almost embarrassed to admit it – I KNOW how lucky I am to have this time and the means to take it.  I will never take it for granted.

We save up errands for Mondays and Fridays – I do the grocery shopping and get in a couple of runs with the jogging stroller.  I clean, vacuum, do laundry.  I try to get my daughter caught up on sleep after three long days at daycare.  I remain in complete awe of single parents and families with both parents working full time.  

As it is with kids, some days are rough, other days are easier. Some days I am so focused on what needs to be done that I lose sight of my main purpose of being home – namely, quality time with my daughter.  

And other days, things just click.  

We dance in our jammies.


We stack blocks.


We watch them as they fall.


After a leisurely morning, we go to the zoo and ride the carousel.

We take a ride on the Zoo train.


We check out the meerkats.

I am incredibly lucky to have these days with my daughter.  In the years to come, when I am old and gray and my baby has grown up, I won’t remember if I got the shopping done, if I fit in a good run, or if the house was vacuumed.

What I will remember, what I will never forget, is the feel of her hand on my knee as we chugged along the track in the fall sunshine.



I’m Getting Older, Too

All morning the images and sounds of P.S. 22’s singing of “Landslide” has stuck in my mind. Their eagerness, their warmth, their hearts coming out of their throats, laced with pure joy. It made me wonder when and why we stop singing and dancing in public.

I’ve actually thought about this a lot. I’m lucky enough to have attended two of Lynda Barry’s writing workshops, where she magically uncovers images of past and present and somehow teaches us to weave them into words. Lynda, who describes herself as shy, opens the session by singing. She sites research about how singing can decrease dementia. She encourages us to not leave singing to “the professionals,” like Jessica Simpson.

I think that if we valued group dancing and singing as so many other cultures do, we’d all do a lot better. But what’s more, we’d witness joy from people of all ages. Not happiness, which is fleeting, but joy, which taps into our core.

There wasn’t a lot of joy around me when I was growing up, so when I discovered Nia and started teaching it, I was often moved to tears by the sensation that I had found “home” within myself. What I discovered was a re-connection of my mind and my body. Joy.

Luckily, my baby will have many dancers to witness – from her aunt and grandma, to the dance my husband does when she fusses. She’ll see that dancing never ends, at least in our house.

When did you stop singing? When will you start dancing again?

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