It’s been a rough week in the Willcox house. Last week, I had my big conference at work. It was a rough one. My boss had a family emergency, so she couldn’t be there. And while I was very well supported by my colleagues, board, and friends who came to help (thanks, Joye and Tori and Mike!) it was a rough week. As with any conference, a LOT of things went sideways.

And I had to speak! It was just announcements, nothing crazy, but something you may find surprising is that I don’t love speaking in public. When I was at governor’s school in ’99 I had to give a speech – just a student government thing. Some friends help me craft very well-written remarks and I completely, 100% blew it. I mean, you couldn’t even consider it the same speech. And ever since, I’ve been pretty scared of speaking.

Not facilitating – that’s completely different. I adore helping people talk to one another. And I don’t even mind our Grantmaking 101 curriculum – teaching feels different than speaking with a lectern and a mic and everything.

Anyways, I digress. I had to speak. And run logistics and hug lots of people and as it turns out, those are two very different parts of the brain.

As soon as I got home, I got sick from one of those people I hugged, and Conor was right behind me with a fever. We took a day off. We watched a lot of Transformers.

Then yesterday, we dropped Conor off at school and headed to Rex to see Dr. Moore. The pill chemo just wasn’t sustainable. Preston’s hands and feet were so beat up. They were red and covered in blisters. It’s a usual side effect, but no one had seen it quite so bad before. It wasn’t anything a slightly smaller dose would fix.

So, he made the rather extraordinary and courageous decision to go back on the pump – which, as you know by now, he hates.

Every two weeks, for the foreseeable future, he’ll be home with a pump full of poison. Do you know how very brave he is?

Y’all, sometimes this is so hard.

Which is what brings me to my actual topic for the evening. Silliness.

Are you silly? Do you find time to pretend to be someone you’re not, or laugh like crazy, or dance? And I don’t necessarily mean the silly that comes from playing with your kids – let’s face it – sometimes that’s pretty forced.

Kids are so good at silly. They make up dances and say “fart” and “butt” and it is the funniest thing in the whole world (though I would a well placed, “that’s what she said” can often have the same effect on grown-ups) and they move with reckless abandon.

Adults stink at silly. But y’all! I’ve found a miraculous place to be silly. It’s a guided silly – like a guided meditation. But better.

You know I tap dance – I talk about it all the time. It forces me to use my brain in a completely different way and is therapy.

But I also take hip hop once a week with Ronnie at NCDI and it is so silly. Ronnie is a talented teacher and gifted dancer. Somehow he helps me feel like my body can do some of the things he can do (it can’t) and have a damn fine time trying (I do.)

Tonight in our class, we laughed so hard it hurt. For an hour. We skipped in a circle and did this funny lift thing. And the song was ridiculous and we just laughed. And moved. And jumped. And pretended to be cooler than Beyonce (we’re not).

Magic. It was magic. Dance is magic. Good teachers who force you out of your comfort zone and let you get out your silly are the best kind of self care.

Are you finding time to be silly? It really does help. Therapy is great, but if you can laugh – even when you’re having the kind of week we’ve been having – it helps a lot.

So thanks, Ronnie, for the distraction.