I think I can't dance

So, I think I can't dance! This was almost the title of my blog. It's so me. I always say, "Don't call me Grace," cuz I am not really known for being um...steady on my feet. We'll just say that. No, I'll explain more. You need it, I can tell. I fall down a lot, run into things, and basically lack coordination. I don't know how it happened. I used to have these things. I blame having babies (cuz it's a good excuse), but really I think it's because I am a 34-yr-old woman trapped in the body of an 80-yr-old (though I do think a lot of 80-yr-olds are much fitter, healthier and um... just generally peppier than me). Though I do try though. And I *think* I can dance...in my mind, I am so damn good. I can get down with the best of them and I used to. All my life (until I had babies), I've danced. Had the tap, jazz, ballet, clogged...was on the dance team in high school (Go Cougars!) and it was a *favorite* past time. I grew up in a small football town. It was kind of what we did. A little Footloose if you ask me. But we were allowed to dance. Next to bonfire parties out in the middle of Nowhere, Arizona...dancing was a huge past time for us kiddos. So anyhoo...you get the point, right? Right? I love to dance. I've got the music in me, for sure.

So now, I've had the babies and my babies aren't really babies anymore...they are kids. Full on kids and they love to dance. We have them in dance class and I love to see them dance. They are really good. If I totally didn't know them, I'd think they were good too...it's not just a mom thing (it so is). One day I'm watching my girls get down to Justin Timberlake and the High School Musical soundtrack, I wished outloud that I wanted to dance too. Their teacher heard me and let me know about her adult classes. Woo Hoo! I'm in! I thought what a *fun* way to get in shape (after the babies) and get some much needed exercise and stress relief. Plus, I love to dance. Did I mention that?

So I went out and got some cool dance clothes (at Walmart) so I would actually look like a dancer. You know, the black gouchos, cool t-shirt, put my hair all up in that cute messy...creative bun...you know what I'm talking about. The bun that looks like you just got up and went, but it totally took you 20 minutes to get that bun just right? Okay, talking about the bun too much. Anyhoo, so I'm at dance class. It's actually jazz class...beginners dance class. I'm thinking I'm not such a beginner, cuz I've done this before (18 years ago--I've done the math), but you know it doesn't hurt to go over the basics. Well, the first thing I noticed as we were sitting in our little meet and greet circle was how dang young everyone was. I'd say the age range was probably 14-23. And that they were all currently dancing and had been for years and years (none had babies yet). Then there was me, and another woman who might've graduated in 1991 too. We looked at each other and smiled (moral support). That's okay, that's okay...this is just fun. We took turns going around the circle and introducing ourselves and a little short explanation of why were were there (um...to dance). So when it was my turn I totally joked that I was there, "Cuz it wasn't the gym." Ha ha...everyone laughed. It was all good.

Then we started dancing. No, not dancing...yet. Just some warming up, stretching and then all of a sudden were down doing sit-ups. 100 sit ups. Let me repeat that--100. Followed by 100 push-ups. I think I was on my 43rd push-up (yeah right...more like 3rd), when I said, "Oh, this *is* the gym!" Um...WHEN do we start dancing here?

So we finally started dancing. Sort of. What I thought was going to be jazz was really like ballet...it felt like we were doing The Nutcracker. We just went right into it and I swear that everyone knew what they were doing. Totally not beginners. We were doing leaps and I don't even know the names for what else we were doing (everyone else did though), but I do know that most of those girls...ALL the girls, were flying through the air in perfect formation, legs straight and ALL the way apart...toes pointed, arms straight. They were GRACEFUL. Beautiful. It totally sucked. I know I've done the ballet, but really...it was when I was like 5 and I probably didn't like it. Where was the jazz square? The snaps? I think I was thinking more Grease than Nutcracker. Anyway, it was brutal. I felt like I was SO LOUD every time I landed. The rest of the girls were like doe...there's that whole graceful bit. I was an elephant in gauchos. Pretty sure. Even my fellow 1991 alumni was doing great. She was struggling, but she was doing it. I totally could not keep count, remember the next step, or the last for that matter. Totally a mess. And if the teacher (whose name I have surely blocked out) told me to straighten my arms one more time...I can't even imagine what I looked like. Well, I kind of know. You know it's bad, when the rest of the class is trying to be encouraging and help you through it. You know it's bad when they are cheering you on, "You can *do it* Sunshine!" Oh, I can assure you that I cannot. I'm not having fun when I'm fighting back tears. Tears! What is up with that? How long is this class anyway (I think it was an hour)?

So I didn't go back. I know, shocking. I think I need to be in my daughters' class. Seriously--that level. Hokey pokey anyone? Oh wait...hip hop? They teach hip hop...hmm...sounds fun. :)