Move Like Jagger

A poopy wipe in one hand and two chubby, squirmy ankles in the other, I was movin’ like Jagger—changing Q’s diaper, singing and dancing to Maroon 5’s “Moves Like Jagger” because it was making him laugh.

It would have made others laugh, too, because you should know I can neither sing nor dance. I’m doing good if I start the ABCs low enough so that I can actually hit Q—the letter Q—without cracking. Our house has always been filled with music. But since Q made his debut, the music is accompanied by much singing and much dancing because Q likes it…he giggles, he coos, he quiets.

Right after we brought him home, that Avicci song—“Wake Me Up”—was new and on every two seconds. So, I danced around our kitchen with a newborn who quieted to the up and down motion…to Avicci. My showers are now concerts. I belt out “Amazing Grace,” “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” “She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain”…anything…because it quiets Q in his little chair should he start getting fussy before I have a chance to shave. We sing the “Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round” so many times each day that I finally started writing music, too, creating verses about Q toot, toot, tooting. 

Around Christmas, B, Q and I would dance and sing to Christmas songs…Neil Diamond’s “Drummer Boy” (yikes), “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,”  “Jingle Bell Rock.” The list goes on. And Q would laugh and laugh as our little trio moved awkwardly around the kitchen swaying, dancing, hopping around together.

In the mornings, I hear B sing the German Good Morning song, as he calls it. …Guten morgen Guten morgen. I’m still not sure if B made it up or not, but it’s become a standard melody as we take our first sips of coffee and keep Q calm until he’s fed.

The other night, I was in the shower performing my usual concert and thinking, wow…it was really working this time…Q was so quiet…I peeked out from behind the curtain to discover that B had moved Q without telling me. I was singing to no one. Which is when I got to thinking about how much I was singing and dancing lately.

Everyday, Q and I read a book called Giraffes Can’t Dance. Long story short, Gerald the giraffe doesn’t think he can dance.  His “neck was long and slim, but his knees were awfully crooked and his legs were rather thin.” Through a series of events, though, he discovers that he can! At the end, in front of all of his African animal mates, “I am dancing, I am dancing, I am DANCING!” Gerald cries.

I turned the shower off and finished a verse of “Down by the Bay” to no one. “I am dancing, I am dancing, I am DANCING!” Heather cried. I smiled and realized that motherhood is a bit like dancing. You’re not sure you can and then next thing you know, you’re movin’ like Jagger. 

P.S. If you don’t know “Moves Like Jagger,” have a little listen. I post this in honor of my husband who was recently told he looked like Adam Levine. He later asked me… “Who is Adam Levine?” Maroon 5, baby. I’d also like to point out that Adam Levine, who my husband looks like!, was People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive in 2013. Ha!