Dance And Dirt Party Monday

Back in ye olden days of the late ’80s, I spent an uncountable amount of hours listening to the radio in my bedroom, with one of these bad boys…

h5ucye20vbpusj7mf2ok … loaded in the tape deck, ready to go, in case my favorite song came on, causing me to scramble for the stereo and hit PLAY and RECORD at the same time.

There was usually some praying, too, about PLEASE DON’T LET THE DJ TALK THROUGH THE ENTIRE BEGINNING OF MADONNA’S NEW SONG.  PLEASE, PLEASE, PUH-LEEZ!

Because really?  Did anything define the late ’80s better than a mixed Memorex tape, with the weather report loudly announced during the first few notes of “Open Your Heart?”  I think not.

A few weeks ago, I found an iTunes gift card at our house that apparently belonged to no one, so I simply instated the Finders / Keepers rule.  Thing 2 and I used that card, and I taught him all about the modern day version of making mixed tapes, that involves instant gratification, as opposed to waiting around for six hours, hoping your song comes on the air waves.

Also?

No conversations by the DJs to get on your nerves and make you want to pull your Rave home permanent out by the roots.

My boys will have no idea what it means to LABORIOUSLY collect your favorite songs, by illegally pirating them off the radio over the course of DAYS.

Days, people.  Because a mixed tape couldn’t be made in three and a half minutes in 1987.

Bless technology.

We made a mixed CD for Thing 2, full of his favorite songs, and let me just say that we enjoyed it thoroughly today, as we jammed out to “Shut Up and Dance,” “Play It Again” and “Flawless.”

And…  yes.  That short list of songs covers pop music and country music and Christian music, because WHY NOT?  It served its purpose though, of getting my forty-something self bopping around the kitchen with my toddler today, until he had to lie down and laugh until his side ached, and I had to lie down and mentally review the signs of a heart attack that I’d read on WebMD in the past.

I introduced him to Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me,” too, thinking THE BEAT!  The beat will prolong our Dancing With Mom aerobic hour.  After the first verse of the song, Thing 2 announced, “I not like this one.  I not like it.  I not want it.  No, Mommy.  None of this one.”

I don’t feel any jealousy at all, considering that Hubs introduced Thing 2 to “Back in Black,” and all that toddler could do was clap out his appreciation, before he choreographed a new break dance routine to it.

We did some dancing today, and then we discovered that laying a wrapped granola bar on top of two double-A batteries kind of… sort of… makes a Flintstones-style car that can be rolled all over the desk top, and THAT kept us busy for all the hours that kitchen-dancing didn’t.

These are the dark days of summer, y’all, when we are desperate for entertainment to see us through until dinnertime.

After that, we spent some quality time digging in the dirt pile that IS our backyard, because we are THAT HOUSE in the cul de sac… the one that needs the Neighborhood Committee to all come over and lay hands on our backyard, and to ask the Dear Lord to let there be grass where there is dirt, and geraniums where there are weeds, and young birch trees where there are broken bits of fence posts.

Amen.

IMG_5658 IMG_5659 IMG_5669 IMG_5675 IMG_5677 IMG_5679 IMG_5680 IMG_5686And then, just like that, it was dinnertime.

In other news, Hubs and I sent the boy camping over the weekend with our friends, Scott and Christy.  They were brave enough to take five children into the forest for a couple of days of hiking and hot-dog-roasting.

Thankfully, Christy sent me snapshots from the weekend, because she knows how I love a good picture or twenty-four.

Gage and the boy have literally known one another since the very day that Gage was born, three weeks earlier than anyone expected him, and now look at them!  They’re teenagers now, who have lost their chubby cheeks and their potbellies and their love of racing one another on their tricycles.

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That’s a picture of our older son, after three days of not showering.  I have no words to describe how proud I am over that small fact.

And that, y’all, was our Monday.  I’m sorry it wasn’t any more interesting than it was, but this is the end of July, when everyone is still excited to be off of school, but when mamas are beginning to wonder if maybe it’ll be okay if the young ‘uns just go on back to their classrooms pretty soon.

 

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