Dancing in My Chair

Sometimes, at random moments, I will passionately miss the 90's. As in the decade, the 1990's. Seriously, I don't know why. The 90's had some horrible fashion trends and some less than good music, but it was my childhood and I embrace that.

Its at these moments that I go back to the music I listened to, or discovered in the 90's. Or I watch some clips from my favorite shows. Or I sit and just dance in my chair to the music I loved (when I could listen to it that is, a certain man [who shall remain nameless] forbade the listening of certain music that wasn't Christian). I listen to 90's pop, Christian music, Michael Jackson, Celine Dion and Whitney Houston. I think about Doug, the Rugrats, All That, Wishbone, Are You Afraid of the Dark and Cousin Skeeter. I read excerpts from "Saddle Club", "The Boxcar Children" and "Goosebumps" (which I didn't read until I was in my late teens).

And sometimes, because I'm rediscovering my childhood, I discover new music and I fall in love with a decade when everything seemed so much more simple! At least to me. Do you remember when Britney was at the top of her game? Songs like "Lucky" and "Oops I did it Again"? Or "Big Butts"? We were the Nintendo players, the Mariah Carey lovers, the believers of Aliens and Y2K. We wore high tops and had crew cut hair. We were insane and believed in so much, hoped for so much.

I miss those times. I really do. I don't know why, because the 90's had its downsides too. Like any decade. Like any day. Like any life. But the 90's was my childhood. When I went swimming with my Aunt Carmen all summer. Or cleaned house with my Aunt Peggy, who would let me spend the night and watch Mork & Mindy in between homeschooling lessons.

I miss getting cappuccino for the first time and discovering how delicious it was. I miss running through the woods and pretending it was Narnia. I miss discovering "The Yellow Submarine" with my brother and all the movies my mom introduced us to. I miss falling asleep to Simon & Garfunkel at night and dancing with Hannah to Loggins & Messina. The 90's was my playground, my perfect time. My biggest worries were the boys I was crushing on and Y2K (which everyone was afraid of).

For New Year's Chris and I would stay up until midnight watching "Much Ado About Nothing" and "Henry V" with our family friend, Ivan, while eating pizza and teasing Ivan when he would cover his eyes during the bloody parts. We went to the Egyptian exhibit at the Children's Museum and rode our bikes up and down the gravel roads.

My mother taught me to read, inspired me to write, inspired a love of literature and writing, of exploring everything. She taught me that every moment is a learning moment.

I played with Hannah, my baby sister. She looked like Shirley Temple at 2. I took her outside and chased her all over the yard. At night she would kick me out of bed, even though she was 2 and I was 10. As a baby, I would feed her cheerios in her bouncy seat and sing her Simon & Garfunkel songs as lullabies. I would read books about Sacajawea and Sesame Street. She was my first experience with a baby (when I would've been old enough to understand it). And, in a way, she was my baby. I protected her, I dressed her up, I changed her diapers and fed her. I played dolls with her. And I failed her in many ways. And, in many ways, she is still my baby, even though she is 15 now.

Chris and I would race our bikes, try stupid stunts (like tying Chris to the back of my bike to help him run faster and "lose weight") and chopping wood. We chopped a lot of wood, fed and watered a lot of dogs. I forced him to play Barbie dolls with me and he drove me up a wall. We dressed up, we fought, we forgave each other and he is one of my best friends to this day.

I met my best friend, Sarah W., a friendship that has lasted us 13 years this year. We used to talk on the phone for hours and hours. We watched "Pocahontas" over the phone, because we didn't get to hang out in real life as often as we wished. We played Gordon Lightfoot as loud as possible and scream-sang along. We picked berries and ate them all, while sitting in a field of green and white. We played Legos and made up stories. We ran wild, wrote notes in our own secret language during church. She helped me fall in love with snakes. I helped her fall in love with Star Wars.

I believed in Jesus with all my heart. Believed there was some reason for all the pain, for all hard times. For all the deaths and the lies. The 1990's were beautiful to me, even though I had a step-father who abused my brother and my mother almost died on our bathroom floor. Even though I was sexually abused. Even though my grandparents died. Even though it was the last time I saw my father in person. The last I spoke to him on the phone. The last letter I received. I believed that a good and just God was going to make it all right. That He was polishing me like how a gem is polished with stones.

I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to deliver babies in China, stop the abortions from happening. Protect the innocent. I wanted to be an actress and star in the movies I had seen. I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a civil rights activist. I wanted to be free. Dream my dreams, live my life. I wanted to be married and have 16 children that I would home-school. I wanted to be a missionary. I wanted to be loved.

Do any of those childhood dreams still hold sway? Can they still exist now that I'm older, wiser, and I know all that I know?

For your viewing pleasure, a song from the 1990's that I used to dance to, alone in my room.

That's right, "Livin' La Vida Loca" by Ricky Martin. And yes, I am that dorky.