Another Lesson From My 20s: No Beats Here.
My 2 year old son has some serious skills.
It pains me to admit this. When I turned 20 I lived in deep, dark deception. I actually thought that I had rhythm. I would hop in the middle of the dance floor with the best of them. A smug self assured look on my face as I danced my jig.
Why my friends didn’t tell me that I wasn’t impressing with ‘Footloose’ level skills, I will never know. This past decade has revealed that music & dancing are not my talents. I can clap on beat. And if you use the term ‘sing on key’ loosely, then I can do that too.
I used to think I was a good singer. You know those people on American Idol who think they are rock stars & aren’t? I’m not that bad, but I can relate. In my defense, I made it in 3 choirs that I had to audition for. So, I had some reason for thinking I could sing. Ugh. Its a pity. I have such strong stage presence…
In my 20s I have attended more weddings than I can remember and participated in dance parties of all kinds. Progressively I discovered the truth about my dance skills. The coordination level hit its peak at 18 I guess. My dancing has just gone down hill since.
My husband is a drummer. A good drummer. And he can sing. And he can dance. He can dance really well actually. I will have to live vicariously through him if I want to be terrific at it.
Don’t worry. I still bust out my moves and sing my songs. Just not in the middle of the dance floor or at the top of my lungs anymore. Lesson learned. It’s not my gig.