I am so not well but of course it is business as usual both on work and home front. It is always hard when I am poorly as chores have to be done and it always seems I have something nice to do. This weekend I took my lovely Mum to see a band. I bought the tickets for his birthday. So there we were in the back row drugged up on pain killers enjoying someone else’s performance; sniff sniff.
I wonder if Sunday night is always ground hog day for other Mums? Every Sunday evening for me is the dull ritual of the ironing of the five school shirts and a pair of trousers with the pairing of the socks. I dislike ironing. My mother loves it, finds it relaxing. I wonder if it would have more appeal if I was tackling it as a stay at home Mum rather than trying to squeeze the time out of an already full weekend? Generally I do flattening and not ironing but can’t get away with this approach with school shirts particularly as smallish boy is on standoff regarding of the wearing of the red school jumper. I generally manage to cope with this task with a little bit of dancing in between collars!
School shirts amongst other things are a reminder of how much unconditional love drives those parental tasks. It is not all about the cuddles cuteness and proud Mum moments is it? Deffo unconditional love goes into every steamy bit of ironing for that boy. Unconditional love seems to have pushed big boy out into the world right and proper. Hardly ever hear from him. There was the other Saturday when he texted me “Help Mum” when I thought he was lying in a ditch. Turns out he just wanted drunken advice as to how to manage flat mates crying boyfriend lying prostrate across her doorway in the corridor. Unconditional love made me tell him to go to bed with the offer of glass of water with forgiveness and my sense humour enabling me to sleep. Hardly a peep out of him since.
I suppose big boy not phoning home having finally left his bedroom for the city indicates my year of many changes. This weekend I have offer on my house so stepping closer to letting the past move into happy memories. Happy memories are indeed good foundations to move forward and I am not one for harping back to the past. I like to look forward. This week I made the decision to stop teaching dance classes. I am sat here typing this realising how much I have written before getting to this point. Which is the point. Dance class is pretty much down my to do list with shirts and family life and work and home coming first at the moment.
I have taught dance for ten years. The same class with other classes students coming and going and lots of wonderful workshops. But for now I have run out of passion and heart and head space for teaching. My class has got smaller with little input from me to create any more students and I think I have reached the peak of what to offer my lovely students. Of course I could just carry on. A bit of technique and a bit of choreo would keep everyone happy. But my high professional standards won’t let me do it. I am my father’s daughter. I remember my Dad leaving the choir he loves all his adult life as he didn’t just feel it was of the right musical standard any more. I am the same. I do not have the energy or passion to make my class the standard it needs to be to give students what they deserve. So I am letting it go. Financially for some time it has offered little back either so indeed time to let go. I am happy I celebrated a decade of teaching and then to conclude last class whilst Maram still exist as group means we can end on a high. After a few weeks it is unlikely folk will remember I once taught as time moves on. Of course who knows with the right push oomph and moment I may well teach t again in a new guise, time will tell and I am not saying never again.
So come Christmas I will no longer be a belly dancer teacher. I stopped performing for money as a soloist some time ago. So now I am dancing for joy, love and pleasure. Dancing to the beat of my man’s drum at the moment makes me smile so that will do for now. So I guess my love of dance as always been conditional. Many of those conditions were related to my professional identity but as I move towards the end of this year of change this is shifting. I think there are others things I want to do, things I need to so and to be honest I love being at home investing in my new family life with my lovely man. Dancing and drumming is an extension of this which is why brings joy.
Now I am off to ponder a text to the large silent boy and a Aitchoooooooooooooo