So you think you can dance?
Better check with your kids.
This all became clear to me recently, when I tried to pass down my, um, “moves, yo.”
Now, I am not afraid to shake what the good Lord gave me. So when “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-a-Lot (“I like big butts and I cannot lie/you other brothers can’t deny…”) played on the radio last week and the kids started singing along, I figured it was time to pass along the legacy.
I began to dance.
My children (Combined: 18 months gestation! 42 hours labor! Untold missed servings of caffeine/other beverages!) had these loving comments:
Daughter: “Hey Levi, look at Mommy, - dancing like an Old Lady!”
Son: “Hee hee!”
Me: (Pulling out hipper, hotter moves) “Wait, guys! Watch this!”
Daughter: “Look at her! She’s still doing it!”
Son: (Doubled over) “Ha ha ha!….”
Me: (Sensing that they’re not feeling my Hot Mama genius, I totally break it down with my best stuff. )
Daughter: “She’s getting worse! Look - she’s sweating! Oh jeeeezzzz!!!”
Me: (Stopping) “Humph.”
Sigh. It wasn’t always like this. These two used to like me. Worship me, even. One of my favorite memories? Long ago, my toddler daughter mistook me for Heidi Some-Supermodel-Or-Other on the cover of the Victoria’s Secret catalogue.
“Mama! Mama!” she said, pointing to the picture of Heidi.
Whoa, baby - time for the eye doctor! I was not, am not tall. I was not, am not leggy. And I was not, am not Heidi. What do we have in common? A pulse - and a monthly appointment with a hair-colorist.
Fast forward, six years later. My son, 3, was cuddled on my lap. We discussed his love life.
“So who’s your girlfriend these days, Levi?” I asked.
“YOU’RE my girlfriend, Mommy,” he said, with serious brown eyes.
Ah, the Good Ole Days. Now? What do I get from my darling cherubs? Mockery for not dancing like a complete, utter hussy. Nice!
Speaking of complete and utter hussies, I have to wonder - WWBD? What Would Brittany Do in situations like these? After all, Brit’s a dancer and a mother of two, too.
Let’s see…first, she’d drive to her concert with her toddler on her lap. For show-time she’d slither and strut stage-wide - dance moves meant for a strip-bar, not the eyes of 200,000-plus admiring tweens…
Wait a minute…Brittany Spears?! WTH, I mean heck, is wrong with me?! Things are pretty bad when you’re considering old Bare-Butt-Brit for parenting and/or dancing advice.
No thanks. I’ll stick to my Old Lady, 80s steps. After all, my moves embarrass my kids. And that’s entertainment - Mommy-style.