Just Dance!

I made a delightful discovery last week, on the lookout as I was for a gentle way through the (sometimes) rough moments of day to day life with young children. The challenge: to get through that awkward time many mothers call the "witching hour" (or "arsenic hour," as my mother called it) without any harsh words on my part. Are you familiar with the witching hour? If you haven't lived through it, let me fill you in. The witching hour happens after school, but before supper when you're trying to cook dinner but the kids are already hungry and tired and in need of more of your energy than you have it in you to give. During the witching hour there is too much to do for one set of hands, but your partner isn't home from work yet. A colossal challenge for any mother, the witching hour is that much more difficult for us Canadians in the long winter months when it is impossible for us to send the kids outside and out of our hair without a fight.

The solution? No, it's not TV, and it's also much healthier for you than downing a glass of wine or bottle of beer to make it through until your partner comes home. What could it be? Why, Lady Gaga, of course!

Mid-arsenic hour the other day, Nicholas and Emma wanted to listen to "rock" music, which is what they call any music that is pop-y and played at loud volume. Normally I detest loud music during the witching hour as it only seems to add to my stress when I'm cooking under the gun and tripping over toys on my way between the fridge and the stove, but just this once I gave in, put on Lady Gaga and pumped up the volume.

As soon as the music came on Nicholas and Emma ran off to put on their costumes, each of them choosing something pink and frilly that gives good twirl when they spin. In the midst of the chaos that is our kitchen in the witching hour, the kids were having so much fun, spinning and swirling and grabbing whisks to use as microphones. Feeling their joy in spite of the pressures it dawned on me that even though it was technically the witching hour, that didn't mean I had to be a witch. Gentleness was right there, I just had to embrace it.

So off I ran into my bedroom and rooted around in my "give away" bag for the slinky black number my 19-year-old-built-like-a-runway-model cousin had passed on to me. It was a dress made for her body and not mine, accentuating my floppy stomach and the way my bosom, well, barely exists, but for dancing in the kitchen, it was just the thing. The kids loved seeing me in costume too - they thought I looked beautiful. "You should wear that to church, mama," Emma said. Now that would be a Sunday you wouldn't want to miss. My mood went from sour to soaring as I danced my way through the chopping and the simmering and the washing and the tidying, rocking out to Lady Gaga in my little black dress.

I was reminded in the moment that when we can find ways to make light of the heavy parts of life - choosing to be a little more gentle with each other, while still attending to the tasks at hand - life is a lot more fun. So, now, when tensions rise and my natural inclination is to whip out a harsh word and launch it at anyone in firing range, I'm going to remember the gentle wisdom of my children and, of course, Lady Gaga and her wise directive to "JUST DANCE!"