two wheels

My dad ran behind his six-year-old daughter, a dishtowel wrapped around the back of my banana-seat to hoist me up as I tipped.  Around and around the block he ran, while I yelled, "don't let go!"  Suddenly I didn't hear him breathing  behind my shoulder.  I looked, crashed, and cried indignantly, "you let go!"  

He saw that I could do it, and had confidence in me that I didn't yet have in myself.  That, and he was tired of running.

Flash forward to my life as a parent.  Obi-1, who is nearly 5, has been itching to ride a "two wheeler."  Our neighbor boy, "Li'l Joe," and his family introduced us to family biking.  I think it's fair to say they've encouraged Mr. Kenobi's commute-by-bike, showing confidence that he could do it long before we were certain.  They loaned us little bikes when all we thought necessary for a 2 year old's riding pleasure was a tricycle.  Once Obi-1 watched his friend take off on a 2-wheeler, he immediately wanted to do the same.  For two weeks, we've been trying to teach him patience, though not very successfully!  

And so you can imagine Saturday evening, while the neighborhood kids were all out riding up and down the block on scooters and bikes, that Obi-1 again asked to ride a 2-wheeler.  Without so much as a second thought, Li'l Joe's dad got up and went to his garage, returning with a smaller 2-wheeled bike.  I was skeptical, but gave Obi-1 the go-ahead to get on.  However, I looked to my neighbor and said something about hoping we didn't spend the evening in the emergency room.  

Fortunately, Obi-1 didn't share my lack of confidence.  He pushed himself along by foot for a few yards, then pulled up his feet and pedaled.  Within a few more yards, he was riding.  Mr. Kenobi and I didn't even have to leave our lawn chairs.

Sometimes you need somebody else to believe in you.  Other times, you have to just believe in yourself.

hired help

"Mama, be careful on the stairs."  

Hmm?  I absentmindedly responded to Obi-1 as I tried to find the best way to fix ribs for this evening's dinner.   Then, as if from far away, he said it again & caught my attention.

"Be careful on the stairs.  We just washed them."

This echoes the things I tell the boys when I've just finished scrubbing the hardwood stairs.  My mind races to track back through the conversation we had minutes ago...

"Boys, Mama needs your help.  We have friends coming over and I need to finish the recipe and get things cleaned up before Daddy gets home..."

I was sure I asked them to pick up their superhero costumes.  Sure of it.  Perhaps I did, but they decided to "help" by scrubbing the stairs.  I think they're wearing the superhero capes, which means they did  pick them up.  And the stairs undoubtably should be scrubbed, though they weren't on the urgent last-minute cleaning list.

In about two seconds I had raced into the front hall to survey the project.   Obi-1 held the special washcloth I use to scrub my face, a bit sudsy and dripping from his hand, and there was a puddled trail down the stairs and through the hall.  The stairs were thoroughly soaked from wall to rail, including the landing at the top.  Obi-2 held another washcloth, similarly drippy, and pointed to the stack of videos that were barricading traffic from the freshly washed stairs.

It turns out they used my (expensive, of course) foaming face cleanser for the project.  They dutifully filled washcloths with water, squirted a generous amount of cleanser on top, and trekked down the stairs to wash.

I must admit, they are clean now.  It took only a quick mop with a towel to clear the puddles, and a fresh scent of hypo-allergenic, anti-aging cleanser now greets my guests.   I'm sure it's a good thing for those 97-year-old wood floors. 

Considering the cost of this hired help, I can't complain.  

give em what they want

Dancing is to the eye

what music is to the ear.

~ Marjorie Forney, dance arts pioneer

I'm teaching dance this week at a local arts camp.  While I've assisted in a few classes over the past decade, this is the first time I've pulled out my ballet slippers in the great northwest.  Let's just say it was exciting but uncomfortable!  Uncomfortable mostly because of the wardrobe challenges: either the shoes and clothes are smaller, or I am bigger. Um, yeah.  Like that's a question. 

Anyway, about 22 kids signed up for "dance" class.  The brochure had a sentence about creative movement and introductory dance when describing my classes.  Evidently this was widely read as "hip hop dances" by the young students.  While they seem to be having fun in spite of this, I've been mildly amused at the parents who've let me know they were surprised their children were getting "ballet instead of hip hop."

"I'm excited she's getting ballet.  It's just that we thought she was going to learn some new hip hop dances.  But ballet is great.  Really."

First, folks, it's hardly ballet.  If it were ballet, there would be technique.  And bars.  And mirrors.  Have I mentioned I don't need mirrors?   Moreover, I wouldn't teach ballet to sweet, unsuspecting, introductory "art camp" kids.  I've safely proven (in my mother's studio) that I'm a strict ballet teacher, even for trained students. 

So, I'm teaching creative movement.  It's a simple combination of basic ballet, jazz, and modern technique, to give them a small taste of dance.  A wide variety of music inspires them to move with lots of rhythms, instruments, and musicality.  I hope they'll finish the week with some safe ways to warm up their muscles, several basic movements (and vocabulary) from different dance disciplines, a few short pieces of choreography, and some basic performance and theater etiquette.  Most of all, I hope they have an overwhelming urge to put on some music and dance!

What I'm not teaching is hip hop.  When done well, it's incredibly technical and impressive.  However, it's not my area of expertise and it's not something that is well taught in a 5-day kids' camp.  Let me be clear: I do not oppose hip hop dance.  In fact, I have a healthy appreciation for the cultural and artistic contribution it has provided the dance world.  That said, there are a few problems with me teaching hip hop dance to this group of 1st - 6th graders:

1.  Skill Levels.  Most of my week's students have little to no dance background.  Hip hop quickly leads to injuries if done poorly.  In this type of class structure, I can't possibly make sure everyone is using perfect technique or following complex choreography safely.

2. Influence.  Often, the hip hop seen in music videos and even dance squads is charged with provocative moves and outfits.  I can't control what ideas kids might have of this genre, and so it's hard to teach appropriate choreography and not disappoint.  Plus, one of my primary goals is to give them creative space, and I don't want the shake-yer-booty moves they have learned elsewhere influencing our time.

3. Exposure.  Hip hop is the most common form of dance most of these kids have experienced.  This being a camp and all, I'd like to offer a taste of the art of dance that they may not know.  It's a chance to broaden their horizons and expose them to something new.

So, surprise or not, we're just doing "dance."  Not hip hop, not ballet, and not really any other specific genre.  This is not going to take the place of a high quality class from a trained and experienced teacher.  It's simply a fun way for them, and I, to use our bodies as instruments - dancing with joy to the song set before us.

technology

"I'm so amazed by phones, Mama."

"Really, why is that?"

"Because you can talk to somebody next door, or a long ways away, and it's all the same on a phone."

so true.

What amazes you today?