I’m not a cool mom. I came to terms with it long ago, I’m no longer sad about it, life will go on. I was cool back in my younger days. I had tons of friends and knew about everything going on. Lies. That’s all lies. I’ve always been oblivious to all that is cool. My friends and family still love me anyway. I think.
About a year ago I saw some young kids doing a funny little dance. I just smiled and went about my day. Weeks later I overheard other kids talking about flossing. I was so happy they were being proactive about their gum health. It wasn’t until a month later that I put it together. The funny dance is called flossing. I took this embarrassing information and stored it tightly in my “never tell another soul about this” vault. I’m choosing to release it just for you. You’re welcome.
First, just let me say I’ve always found it fascinating that little dances like this become popular and everyone just starts doing it. Who starts it? Who names it? Why does everyone just see it and start automatically mimicking? Why can’t they invent a dance that an uncool mom with a booty can actually do? So many questions.
I really didn’t think much more about it. Until my son came home showing me this new dance he learned in school. Great. I was at least thankful I knew something about it. The look on his face when I knew the name of his dance told me he thought I was the coolest mom on the planet. So much to learn, sweet child. I decided at that point, Mama was going to do a floss, or wait is it called dance a flossing? I’ll work on the terminology later. One step at a time.
It was almost midnight. I was tired and tired equals giggling and goofy. I suddenly remembered my dance vow and told my husband he had to help. Being the good sport he always is with my quests, he asked to see what he was working with. I stood up in my baggy pajama pants. They were new, although that was about 12 years ago. An old t-shirt with spaghetti sauce stains complimented them nicely. The final accessory to my ensemble, I couldn’t stop laughing. I’m sure that alone started me off with cool points. He watched intently. After a few minutes, he informed me we needed an instructional video. I told him to search for flossing dance instructions for uncoordinated, slightly dorky moms.
We both sat there in the dark, quiet house watching this video as if our life depended on it. I had him stop after each section to try what they said. I couldn’t help but wonder the whole time why they call it flossing? Do the arms represent the teeth and the body is the floss? I just don’t get it.
It started with the arms. Keep them straight like you’re holding a broom they said. Hey, I’m good at that. I could tell my concentration face was in full effect. I thought I was doing pretty good, until he told me to keep my arms tighter because it wasn’t the Cabbage Patch dance and to stop twisting my whole body. The video professionals were just moving their arms, but somehow my arms made my whole torso twist. I was once a dancer. What has happened to my body? I blame childbirth. After I recovered from more tired laughter, we tried again. I never quite got it, but we moved on.
I was not giving up. Next came the hips. Just move side to side they said. Anyone can do it they said. Apparently that’s not true, Mr. Floss. I thought I was moving just like the video. Hubby had a different impression. He asked if I needed to pee or if I was about to start running a marathon. Either way it wasn’t the dance. I kept trying, with tears running down my cheeks and hurting sides from hilarity of it all.
Finally came putting the arms and hips together. These people made it look so easy, yet I absolutely could not get it right. Whatever movements I was doing that night would be better described as the electric toothbrush or maybe the gargle. It was definitely not flossing. There we have it. I tried. I can’t Floss. It was a great laugh, though.
I’ll master the next dance craze, no doubt. As for this one…I’ll just leave it to the cool kids.