Every now and again, K busts into a random and dramatic 360-degree spin-step with a high-in-the-air hand clap kicker—it’s adorable, heart-warming, and always reminds me of the dance scene from A Knight’s Tale.
In the scene, Ledger’s character William—a low-born peasant posing as a knight after fate’s presented him with an opportunity to “change his stars” and chase his childhood dream—is put on the spot by a rival knight during a post-tournament celebration when he’s asked to demonstrate a dance from his (fabricated) homeland.
Dubiously, William agrees and fumbles on the dancefloor to pull something out of his ass on the fly. Just as it’s starting to look as though he’s going to be laughed off the floor, his love interest, the lovely Lady Jocelyn, rushes to his side, taking her place as his partner.
Together, they dance, making it all up as they go along.
Together, they create a culture.
Together, they have a great time figuring it out.
William gets out there, he persists and fakes it ‘til he makes it. Despite the haters, despite the competition, despite his low-born roots, and despite his moments of self-doubt, he makes it work. With Jocelyn bolstering his confidence, he dances.
Could a mother-blogger find a more representative analogy for living this special needs parent life?1Maybe. But bear with me while I follow this train of thought, my dudes. To me, it seems pretty damn perfect. I mean, how many times in life, in love, in parenting, in your career aspirations have you felt like you’ve had absolutely no idea what you were doing? For me, that vibe’s a relatively constant flow of anxiety-riddled, self-doubting mind-f*ckery, and the fear that my ineptitude is blatantly obvious to everyone around me is almost impossible to shut down some days.
But here I am out on the dancefloor of life just the same, with my own Jocelyn by my side, baltering around, fumble-stepping through it all in attempts to chase dreams and change stars (in between chasing and changing K). Like William, I find the steps come easier knowing I have a supportive partner who believes in me—he believes in me as a friend, as his wife and mother of his children, and as a writer; in fact, the level of confidence he places in my competence can, in and of itself, be intimidating sometimes.
Together, we dance. He goes off to work, busting his ass day in and day out to support our family; he’s the sole breadwinner (for now). I do the stay-at-home/work-at-home mother-blogger gig2As yet unpaid, busting my ass with domestic duties3Including dusting off my writing skills and self-education in the subjects of blogging, autism, seizure disorders, and so on. Together, we’re creating a culture that works for our family. And yes, we’re having a damn good time at it, as well. That’s how we roll.
Are our steps perfect? No.
Is our presentation a little clumsy and clunky? Absolutely.
But we’re out there on the floor, trying to make things happen, captain.
Can you say the same?