Do you sometimes feel like the family chauffeur? Yeah, me too. But I’ve found a way to get rid of that feeling…

The year-end dance recital was last Saturday, so like moms everywhere, my week was a blur of rehearsals, sequins, makeup, and hairspray. And that was just me.

That’s right, I danced.

On stage, in front of hundreds of people, I stumbled across the stage in a sparkly Irish dress that was used in a dance competition some 20 years ago. My hair was styled with a simple braid across the top of my head, which really let each and every grey hair stand out. My make up mostly consisted of red lipstick that we found stashed in the bottom of a purse that my mother-in-law passed down to River last year.

AND THE DRESS?

Here’s the costume. I think I looked like some kind of a mash-up between an Irish dancer and a high school cheerleader, with a touch of the Joker from Batman thrown in. After he’s been hit by a sparkle truck. Incidentally, I went to the high school where the recital was, and my clothes fit me just as bad back then too. Sadly, that was the year where I was still trying to look good in clothes — the year before I realized that Grunge was the answer to every insecure teen’s fashion troubles.

My kids and I go to a dance studio that offers inexpensive dance classes — I’m talking $2/class/week — for the entire family, all at the same time. That means that in one giant, chaotic gym, you will find a creative movement class for toddlers, a Zumba class for adults, a hip hop class for teenagers, and a ballet class for younger kids. And my class — adult’s Irish dance.

It’s crazy and loud and the music is all mixed together; I think I’ve practised my Irish two-hand to a Britney Spears medley more often than to a traditional Irish song. Regardless, I love that when I’m doing my class, my five-year-old Harbour is 20 feet away doing ballet while my eight-year-old River is upstairs doing tap and my one-year-old is so overwhelmed by the sensory overload that he just sits like a zombie and stares at it all for the 45 minutes until I’m done.

Then Harbour heads across the gym to Acro and River switches to Irish and I take the toddler into the hallway where I sit with a friend and consume twice the amount of calories that I just burned off in the form of Coke bottle gummies.

It’s actually a pretty great way to spend the evening.

Last year, River was the only one of us to take a class. I peeked into the adult class a few times — a friend was in it — but I knew that it wasn’t for me. I have two left feet. Well, two left flippers would probably be more accurate. But then, at last year’s recital when I saw this big group of adults having a blast on stage, regardless of their age or skill level, I decided to sign up for a class. I figured that I could dance at the back of the group if I was terrible, right?

Nope.

I was to dance a two-hand with my friend, which made “hiding at the back of the group” as planned much more tricky. Well, impossible really. The two of us went on stage. My friend gave me the “start dancing now” squeeze because I can’t keep time to save my life, and then we danced our short dance and I managed not to fall flat on my face. I’m pretty sure that I started on the wrong foot once or twice, but between my big white sparkly skirt and my friend’s big orange sparkly skirt, I couldn’t see our feet to check. Probably for the best. Thankfully, my friend is such a skilled dancer that she was able to move us around the stage easily.

And then we were finished. We 1-2-3’d to the back of the stage, where River was waiting to start her 3-hand dance with the son of my dance partner and the daughter of my coke-bottle-candy-enabling friend.

I could never have predicted that I’d be prancing around on a stage along with my kids in a dance recital at the age of 36. But it was so much fun — way more fun than the years that River took lessons and I waited in the hallway with her younger siblings.

This year, I was a participant instead of a chauffeur. And it made all the difference. It turned dance night into a fun night rather than a hassle.

I’ve found that as a mom — especially as a homeschooling mom — it’s far too easy to be sucked into the role of chauffeur, and the lessons and appointments and activities just become stressful. Life gets wrapped up in schedules: who needs to be picked up, who needs to be dropped off, who should be napping right now? (Usually me.)

I used to think it was all just a part of parenting. When I first thought about only choosing extra-curricular activities that offered me something as well, I felt really selfish. Yet just last year, I had a talk with River about picking activities that were fun for Harbour too. After all, it wasn’t fair that my middle child had to be dragged around to all sorts of different activities that she wasn’t even participating in, right? And I didn’t feel guilty at all. Actually, I remember feeling really good about teaching my daughter empathy. So why is it any different if I steer my children towards activities that I can participate in as well?

There are other benefits beyond my own enjoyment to doing things together. I like that on dance night when Harbour is doing her ballet class, she can look across the gym and see me practising some tricky Irish steps. Well, tricky for me, at least. It’s probably good for her to see me mess up over and over. And over. She sees that I’m still having fun. She sees that I’m working hard to learn a new skill. She sees a whole bunch of adults that have decided to keep on learning, regardless of their age. That’s a pretty great thing for a five-year-old to absorb week after week.

I wish there were more family-oriented activities, like family karate class or family yoga or family ukulele lessons. Family pottery mornings? We’d sign up! Well, no we wouldn’t because we’re barely functional before noon, but we’d be reluctant when we said no.

As you plan your summer, you might find that your weeks are less stressful if you make a point of choosing activities that your entire family will enjoy. And no, that doesn’t mean you have to do the activities yourself, just that you’ll enjoy them. Maybe your daughter likes t-ball the best, but soccer will let all your kids participate at the same time AND there’s a Starbucks drive-thru on the way there. A mocha, some shady trees and a good book? I’d go for that.

Whatever activities you pick, the key is to consider your entire family — including yourself. I don’t think it’s wrong to tell a child that they can’t go to a camp or a weekly lesson because it will inconvenience the rest of the family. In fact, I believe that it’s teaching my kids a community mindset. In theory. Honestly, it’s still really hard for me to say no.

But I’m trying my best. I keep telling myself that we can always sign up another year if we want, right? After all, “no” can mean “not right now” instead of “not ever”. Who knows? No could even mean: “not until you’re 36.”