Twirling towards happiness

Yesterday Dave, Owen and I were in the living room playing. Dave was sitting on the floor propped up on his elbows with his legs splayed and I was sitting cross-legged on the couch. In between us, Owen was twirling in circles with his arms straight out, then lurching side to side trying to regain his balance. I reached out to steady him and keep him from falling. He giggled at his dizziness, then started twirling again. 

"Have you ever been to a Grateful Dead concert?" I asked Dave. "He reminds me of the spinners."

"No, but I've been to a Phish concert, which is basically the same," Dave said. "Probably even more drugs."

"I doubt it," I said, thinking of how out of my mind I was at a Grateful Dead concert I'd attended in Las Vegas with two sorority sisters during college.

Owen stopped spinning and started dancing along to one of the children's folk songs on our Pandora playlist. He shuffled his shoulders from side to side and moved his head like he was working out a kink in his neck. He's been doing this a lot lately, spontaneously breaking into dance whenever he hears music, even the electronic tunes that play when you push the buttons on his ride-a-long car. Sitting in the seat of his plastic car, he'll look at me as a tune begins to play, smile, and start shuffling his shoulders side to side, like a white boy's overbite.

I love seeing Owen dance, so free and expressive. I've spent one too many dates with men who'd rather be at the bar than on the dance floor, so I hope we can nurture this instinct and help him hold onto it long enough to become a boyfriend and later, husband, who will dance unabashedly with his partner.

Boy joy

As Jane Fonda said so eloquently in a video that recently made the rounds on Facebook, we have to do a better job of raising emotionally literate sons, boys who aren't bifurcated at their heads and hearts — no small feat in a society that will call them "sissies" or "mama's boys" if they show any emotion besides being steady and strong. It's not just crying that will get them in trouble, but playfulness and joy, like the kind you'd let loose on the dance floor. 

"Did your parents ever sit together and play with you like this?" I asked Dave. "I know your dad worked a lot."

"I don't remember," Dave said. "We had a finished basement and I remember spending a lot of time down there with my brothers. I think my parents were pretty exhausted by the time I came around."

"Yeah, I don't remember my parents playing together with me either," I said. "I remember my dad roughhousing with Eric and me on the living room floor but my mom was off doing something in the other room, probably glad for the break. I'm sure my mom played peek-a-boo and stuff with us as babies but then my dad would be at work."

"I have a hard time remembering anything from when I was really little," Dave said. "It's all kind of blurry. One of my first memories was being at the Kennedy Space Center but I don't remember how old I was."

Owen stopped dancing and hurled himself at Dave, grabbing a wad of his hair, another one of his recently acquired hobbies.

"Ow!" Dave said. "Soft touches, buddy, soft touches."

"Owen, let go!" I said sternly. "Let go!"

Owen looked at me, smiling and looking just a little uncertain as he maintained his death grip on Dave's hair.

"Owen, that hurts daddy, let go!" I repeated, as Dave peeled off Owen's fingers and finally broke free. 

Owen lunged at Dave again, who caught him at the waist and hoisted him up in the air out of reach from his head. Owen giggled as he dangled above Dave. Dave set him down on his feet and Owen ran over to me on the couch, his arms outstretched. I folded him into my lap and kissed his winter-chapped cheek.

"Hi, baby," I said, stroking his hair and feeling something sticky, like yogurt, above his right ear. Sometimes Owen pushes my hand away when I stroke his hair or rub his back or legs. This time he didn't.

"I mean, it makes sense that parents would mostly play with their kids one-on-one, because it gives the other parent a break," I continued to Dave. "But I think he really likes it when we're both here together."

"Yeah, he does seem to like it," Dave said.

Sitting there bookending Owen as he ping ponged back and forth between us, I felt happy watching him twirl and shoulder shuffle and yes, even pull hair. I couldn't help but think that we were providing him the kind of safe space and security that was enabling him to be silly and free, knowing that mom and dad were right there.

Maybe I was projecting my own sense of security in that moment onto him. Who knows? I'm just grateful that sometimes, amid the stress of juggling daily life and parenting, I get a glimpse of the true meaning of family. It can make you feel a little dizzy, but there are always plenty of hands to keep you from falling down.