Friday night, we rented “Here Comes the Boom” to watch as a family.
First… you must realize. I’m, um, a bit silly.
So at the end of the movie, as the credits were rolling, I got up and started dancing. Man, I got some skilz too.
My impulsive dancing outbreaks with my kiddos are not that unusual. Some of my favorite moments are my girls and I blasting Taylor Swift or Toby Mac or some other artist that has some fun music and just being crazy.
With my girls, I don’t give a hoot what I look like. In fact, the crazier I dance, the more they laugh, and the funner it gets.
Friday night was unique though.
Because we were all in a pretty good mood, and as I got my groove-thang on… this very rare occurance happened.
My sweet, patient, quiet hubby got up off of the couch, took my hands, and proceeded to get HIS groove-thang on with me.
He’s done this a few times in the past, but usually his dancing is… well, it’s hard to say this without being mean, but it’s boring. He’ll do it just to appease me and move around for about 30 seconds and then be done. It’s just not his thing, which is totally okay.
But Friday… my man got it ON! He was dancing and being crazy and silly and spinning me and dipping me.
The kids were going crazy with laughter. And my heart was just super full of love for this man who would go outside his comfort zone, just to be silly with me and make me happy.
That, my friends, is true love.
Now, I paid for our extreme dance moves. The next day I woke up sore in places I had forgotten existed.
But we had a super fun time as a family, something that has been sorely (pun intended) lacking lately.
After that, the kids requested to sleep out in the living room. Mommy groaned, because that usually means a very big mess the next day. Daddy said, “Sure, let’s even pull out the sofa bed!” which Mommy has banned because that makes a mess about 10x bigger.
But… the kids had a blast in their living room slumber party. The next morning they made tents out of the couch cushions and Daddy blessedly agreed to watch kiddos while I went and got some writing done, away from the maddness, at Starbucks.
This weekend reminded me of a few things.
The value of spending QUALITY time as a family.
The value of throwing the rule book out sometimes and just being silly and having fun.
And the value of a messy house.
When I worked full-time, I always joked with my coworkers that a messy desk just meant that I was hard at work. And boy, could my desk get messy.
I’m thinking the same is true with a house. A house that looks “lived” in means that there is LIFE and FUN and JOY happening there.
Remember that if you ever drop in and find my house a trashed mess, okay?
(and if you’re wondering, my sweet older daughter got video of scott and I dancing… but thankfully the room was dark so it didn’t turn out. She’s also been warned that distribution of even that video would result in grounding for the rest of her life. Let’s just say, we’d put all the Harlem Shake people to shame!)