Play Time

When my husband died, one of the ways that I coped with being a single mom was to fill our days with activity. 

I didn't want to slow down because it was too hard to be still. To many memories came flooding back. And then I would have to fight the feeling of being sad. 

Before he passed, I used to spend long stretches of time just playing with Arie when she was two. We would paint or color, blow bubbles outside or play hide and go seek for hours. 

Now I plan trips downtown, like last Thursday to Centenial Olympic Park to hear music at the National Black Arts Festival (NBAC.org). We heard a FABULOUS Brazilian band called Olodum! My girls and I danced on the lawn near the band. Drums were pounding, other people were performing Capoeira (an Afro-Brazilian from of Marital Arts). It was a feast for the eyes. Here's a link to see an example of Capoeira on Youtube. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7sBSNb73RKs&feature=related

This is the motherhood I have newly become accoustomed to. One full of cultural experiences. One of adventure. I'm great at taking trips. I llke motion. And it's not a bad way to live. Only that yesterday, my trip to listen to Ghanaian percusion artists with my girls was rained out. 

When that happens, I usually go to Blockbuster and rent some movies. We have Netflix too but I just felt like something new. 

The girls took their siesta (what I call their two hour afternoon nap) when we got home which let me watch the movie Good Hair with Chris Rock. I really enjoyed his documentary style. Anyway, my oldest daughter got up first and said, "Mom, build a fort with me. Please." There really is something in me that doesn't want to do this. And I wish it wasn't there. A part of me stopped playing quietly when Jason died. 

My children's grandmother Sylvia is a world class fort builder. There is not a couch cushion she has met that she can't turn into the Taj Mahal. She sews huge pieces of fabric together and caries colorful clamps in her purse. When she is done fort building in my kids' room I feel like I've stepped into a bedouin tent in Ariabia. 

I was able to satisfy here by draping a few blankets, getting some popcorn and turning on the movie. 

Later on, some friends came by and invited us to Chili's. I was getting ready to leave and my oldest pulled on my arm. 

"Mommy, please play Barbies with me," She asked, eyes pleading. "Baby, we are getting ready to go..." I countered. 

"Just for a few minutes," she said. "Okay," I replied. 

And then it happened. Barbie had turned into my alter ego from Jersey who didn't want to walk far in her Jimmy Choo's to get her car. The girls were laughing hysterically. 

We were sitting in their room, on the carpet and I watched my oldest play with her Barbie and she was so beautiful that my heart felt like it was breaking. How long will she want to make her barbie dance? How long will she want to play, sitting cross legged with me before friends and boys will take over the scene? 

Brazilian percusion bands are incredible, but so is slowing down enough to see the tender girlhood which blooms so quietly in the stillness of my daughters' room.