Zumba

(I wrote this blog 11 years ago, but just stumbled upon it. Our children are all adults now, which makes this blog more special and something that I know all parents can relate to in one way or another. When we are busy raising our family we are not always able to recognize that the small moments are the big moments.) 

Perhaps you can relate to the story I am about to share. 

There are things I told myself many years ago I would never do-- and then I had children. Funny how a child, your flesh and blood, can have interests that test the depth of your love, pushing you to do the very things you told yourself you would never do. 

Enter Zumba. A class at our local fitness center that our family just joined. My sixteen-year-old daughter, Danielle, wanted to try the dance workout; and for whatever reason, invited me. 

So, against my better judgment, I went. 

The description of Zumba was my first red flag, “high energy and motivating music with unique moves and combinations that allow participants to dance away their worries.” Anytime the words “unique” and “dance” are used in the same sentence, I become full of worry. 

My clever idea of standing in the back of the room didn’t work out for me since there were mirrors on every side. I watched my instructor, Rhea, do things with her hips that I didn’t know were possible. My daughter gave me a huge smile each time we had to turn, and she was able to see my “moves.” I was smiling too, but for different reasons. 

The class that my daughter assured me was twenty minutes in length ended precisely an hour after it began. I mumbled something to the instructor on the way out, and she mentioned how well we did for our first time. “How did she know it was our first time?” I wondered to myself with a slight shrug.

Although I had hoped that my daughter would not love the class, she did. I blinked my eyes and a week passed. 

“Tonight’s Zumba night,” Danielle reminded me this morning. 

“Yep!” I tried to sound excited. 

I think Rhea was shocked to see that we were back. So was I. And the class was more than double the size of the prior week. 

However, somewhere in the middle of Zumba hour, something happened to me. I kept looking over at my daughter, watching her enjoy herself as she effortlessly performed all the fancy footwork and hip gyrations. Danielle smiled at me--and I realized that I was having fun. 

At one point, Rhea complimented me because my hips were moving (instead of all the other parts of me that weren’t supposed to be moving!). 

I laughed. 

Who knows, if this keeps up, I may soon be known as the most improved Queen of Zumba. 

Could it be possible that I’m excited for next Tuesday night? 

Stay the Course... 

Sheila