Let me just assure everyone that when I can shuffle the chickens back to school, I will resume posts about writing and such. The voices in my head are screaming (Gee, isn't it amazing that writers can get away with saying that?), and I'm ready to let them have at. But until then...
I embarrass my children. And I enjoy it. I was shopping at Wal-Mart the other day with the middle chicken. And I'm humming. And I'm doing a little dance. Because there is a neverending soundtrack of music in my head. I saw her shoot me a quick glance. But she didn't say a word. I went back to jamming. Two aisles later she sidles up to me and whispers: "Mom. You're embarrassing me."
I looked at her and replied: "Honey. It's only going to get worse."
I'm in my early thirties. And there are times I still act like I'm a teenager. When the kids rode to the pizza place in a limo for their reading prize, I went too. I flashed the peace sign. (I dont' know WHERE this came from, but it's a habit now) And one of the fifth-graders looked at me and said, "Were you alive when they were doing that?"
I remember being in fifth grade. Heck, I remember kindergarten. I can name every teacher I had in elementary school and most of them in my later years. Considering I had at least six a year, I think that's excellent.
My point being...I still feel young. When an eighties song comes on in the van, Heaven help the chickens. Because I rock out. The head bangs, and I act like an utter fool. For a minute I'm swept back in time to a place that was carefree and less complicated. And I love it.
So if you see a crazy woman, singing her own tune, doing a little shuffle, SMILE. She's exactly where she wants to be.
1 year ago