is it ok to say that it's hot? it is HOT. this is the time of the year that i seriously question how much i love my husband. why do i live somewhere that can get this hot? and yet can get cold enough for mittens and coats? something is wrong with this situation.
yet...we survive. we survive with playdates, swimming, popsicles, lazy pajama days, movies and more movies. lots of vegging out days going on over here and i'm not complaining about that.
aunt sarah flew into town last week and we have been having a blast! the kids are in heaven and it's so nice to have someone do my dishes every night. just kidding, i really love her company too. but don't think i haven't considered polygamy when she scrubs my kitchen down.
she had some friends she wanted to visit in Utah, so i told Ty i was running away and we did! sarah and i took off for Salt Lake City for a little over 24 hours. it was a great, great, great trip. great is such a pitiful word to describe how it felt. i used to feel guilty telling other moms that i like to get away from my kids and husband for "girls weekends". as though something was wrong with my dna to want to leave them and be by myself. most other moms would say, "wow, i could never leave my kids...or husband..i just love them too much" and the guilt would twist around like a jagged blade in my heart. "THAT'S IT!" i would think. I am flawed. I am a horrible wife. I am a horrible mother.
but... and this is a big but...i have made a lot of progress over the last year about accepting who i am and what i need to feel happy and feel like me. and somewhere along the line i was ingrained with the need to have a break now and then. a few breaks a year with just my husband away from the kids, and once a year with just friends. it refreshes my spirit. it helps my love grow for them. it helps my mind stop spinning. it is almost like hitting the refresh button on the modem. ah...i can function smoothly and quickly again!
we attended a session at the Salt Lake Temple, which was breathtaking and a first for me. We ate Indian food (my favorite), we talked and talked and talked and I slept in! Before we left for salt lake I quickly googled Ballet West adult ballet classes (because I've decided to teach ballet this year! big news!). I needed a refresher course and dip my feet in again to class. my darling ballerina Jandee would always tell me to go with her whenever I visited, and i think i would only be brave enough if she went with me. but seeing as she is 8 months pregnant i would have to go solo. so last minute i threw in 4 leotards (it's been 7 years, i have no idea what would fit), tights and shoes, just in "case". Well it turned out that class was right down the street at Trolley Square so I took a deep breath, found a leotard i could squeeze into, and went. Oh my, if i could explain how nervous I was. I dropped my expectations to zero and just sucked it up and went as a learning experience. This was a good choice, because as I crossed the street with and watched a 7ft tall man in his sixties wearing cheer shorts and leg warmers bounce up the stairs i thought. "oh dear. oh dear. low expectations."
my hands were sweating. heart pounding. lying on the ground pretending to stretch and watching everyone, i spotted a less skeletal asian girl at the barre and saddled up next to her, and she moved, replaced with two tall, thin, FIRM 17 year olds. the nerve. but they were cute and kind and lent me a hair tie because i forgot. what? so rusty. long story short, class started and part of my spirit awoke in my body. i'm not even joking. it was the same feeling the first time i held the barre in my first class when i was 12. it didn't matter that my thighs can barely squeeze into fifth position, or that i have the flexibility of a 2x4. the music swelled, my body started moving and it was like coming home. after class my heart was incredibly full for my life. for my body. for the gift of dance that i have been given. i cannot count how many times in my life i have questioned God's plan for me. the fact that he put a dancer's heart into a soccer player's body with the sarcasm of a sailor and an appetite of a sumo wrestler just never made sense to me. throw in my passion for weightlifting now and it was just a huge giant, jumbled puzzle. but saturday it all clicked, and i mean it all CLICKED and tears could not be contained. i emailed my mom in the height of my gratitude to thank her and my dad for the countless hours and money they spent supporting my gift. none of this would be possible without that.
and so dear readers, i danced. my spirit leapt 20 feet into the air with each grand jete (my body made it 3 inches off the ground but that's beside the point). it was like coming home. yesterday i pulled out some old videos hoping to find my PBS documentary on American Ballet Theatre and instead popped in an old recording from BYU with my grading videos from variations, modern (oh stinky modern) and jazz class. i couldn't believe it, and neither could the girls. that was me! 12 years ago there was no way I would have shown the video to anyone. I thought i was huge! and my feet were awful! and my technique was all over the place! but yesterday, i had nothing but gratitude and pride that i could dance, and I loved it, and i still passionately love it.
and so dear reader, here is the most ghetto recording of a recording you will ever experience. you are welcome.