Lately, whenever David and I go anywhere with the kids, I feel like we whirl through places like a tornado. We don’t just pass through, we burst upon them never leaving them quite as they were found. The result leaves me consistently pulled out of my comfort zone, which is quiet, composed, and overly polite. To say this creates a lot of internal conflict for me would be the understatement of the year.

Last week David, the kids and I all piled out of the van and headed into MOD Pizza to grab a bite to eat since it was late and there was no hope of cooking dinner once we got home. As usual, we burst through the door and the kids were buzzing with excitement over going out to eat, which we rarely do due to the paragraph above.

I stood in line to order as David and the kids found a table. When the pizza came, with my usual frantic energy, I began cutting up Colin’s slice while I pleaded with the other two to sit down, be quiet and eat. About ½ way through the meal, Colin had to use the toilet so David took him back to use the restroom. Unbeknownst to David, while in the stall with Colin, another man came through the door. David had Colin stand on his feet so he could reach the toilet and loudly exclaimed “Ok! Big pee big pee!!!!” Colin is potty training and needs lots of encouragement when standing at the toilet. The other man, who didn’t realize David was in the stall with a toddler, started cracking up. When David came out of the stall with Colin, he started laughing even harder over the fact he thought David was in there alone and talking to himself. Meanwhile, I am trying to keep the other kids eating happily, calmly and quietly. I look over at another family with their kids all eating politely at the table. Instantly, feelings of shame washed over me. Their family looked like I wished ours looked. Calm, poised, and quiet. I let out a deep sigh and forged ahead trying to get everyone to eat their meal. Suddenly, William looked at me and asked, “Can I dance?” I paused and took another deep breath. I realized I was at a crossroads. Here was an opportunity to either keep my child’s heart joyous or try to put a lid on him. I could try and force my kids to act like that other family, or I could embrace what we are.

I smiled. “Sure.”

William got up and began dancing. Then Colin, who was never sitting anyway, began dancing. Then Nathan, who was complaining about his tomato sauce, stopped complaining and began dancing. Pretty soon, I had three boys dancing their hearts out in the middle of the restaurant. Everyone looked over and smiled. Some people laughed but others mainly just smiled… including myself. I hope I always have kids who dance. And I hope they continue to dance as they grow. It occurred to me that while that other family sitting quietly at the table may be doing something right, maybe I am too.