Not your average suburban mom. I’m more your typical, normal, commonplace, everyday, garden-variety suburban mom. With a thesaurus.

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Siriusly* - Why shouldn't you take kids to the club?

It all started when Dad-in-law let us borrow his sweet ride for a family trip to the lake.  This sweet ride is a Ford Flex, which reveals just how far I've fallen into Mommyville.  His ride is sweet for two simple reasons.

1. It doesn't smell like french fries It's clean.
2. It has Sirius Satellite Radio.

We discovered Channel 51.  This is where you hear all the best and latest progressive and electro house tracks from around the world, plus remixes and mash-ups. (Words I probably have an improper understanding of from the previous sentence: most of them, because I stole that description from the Sirius website.) It is impossible to experience Channel 51 without grooving.  It's like the sound reaches into your core and starts making you twitch communicate the "dirty" bass and synth with your body (much like 4th meal at the Bell).  Channel 51 pretty much turned our car into the hottest club out there with toddlers.  We moved like extra's on Soul Train.  (Soul Train?  Um, 1985 called.  They want their current pop-culture references back.)  I discovered that my family probably could have owned the Step Up franchise (and not just on DVD).

Ezra, at almost two years old does not talk, but the boy has moves.  He demonstrated some serious vibe with just his neck and head.  He also cannot wink but thinks he can with giant, exaggerated eye closures, so he threw that in the mix.

Esther, it turns out, is an instinctual woot-er.  Like, hardcore.  The girl just knew where a high pitched "woot - woot" should be added.  If Dance Music Wooting were an Actual Thing, she would be a prodigy.  Maybe even in The Prodigy.  I don't know.  I think we found her calling.

In the spirit of "do what you know", and in lieu of any actual dance moves, Eve started signing the alphabet to the beat, including a switch to slow motion when the music broke down.  Genius.

Hosanna looked embarrassed.  I think she's adopted.

Brian surprised no one by dominating the party in the front seat.  He started by 1. professing his committed love of all things Katy Perry, 2. breaking out a sprinkler/robot/climbing a ladder dance combo while driving, and 3. declaring (in a car travelling 70 mph with really loud music) I WOULD BE THE BEST DRIVER'S SEAT DANCE MUSIC CHOREOGRAPHER.  I WOULD KILL THAT JOB! (Enter an Esther "woot-woot!")

I, of course, did some lassoing.  My lasso involves both elbow and wrist, and because I'm feeling generous, hip action.  The deprived people in the car next to us could not see the hips, but they did enjoy my Ricky Martin facials accompanying the lasso. (See above pic. Now picture me making that very face while rocking a stellar lasso.  That visual alone is like a gift that keeps on giving.)

The only dark spot of the whole experience was when Brian chastised me for raising a fake Bic lighter because it wasn't a "lighter song".  I guess I just don't share his aptitude for driver's seat dance music choreography.

We got to the lake just as our glow sticks ran out and had a lovely time with my side of the family. We celebrated my b-day and Father's day.  Here is a pic of me and the Daddy-O (my awesome stepdad Gary) receiving the exact same present.  Because?  My family obviously has good taste in music.

My awesome hair is due to attempting an open water swim that never came to complete fruition.  Gary's awesome hair is because he's Italian.  Our awesome CD's are Bob and Iz.

*I totally know how it's spelled.  I love me some 'play on words'.

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