It's all about the Benjamins, baby...

...or in this case, the Lincolns - and I mean the kind that jingle, not fold. As I reviewed my blog stats for the day, I excitedly announced to my family that I had earned my first penny. To say they were unimpressed would be putting it mildly. My husband pondered the value of investing my evenings and weekend on a pursuit that was clear to yield so little, and my smarty-pants kid matter-o-factly stated that one penny was...well, crap...and continued transcribing his Santa list from the Toys-R-Us Big Book Christmas catalog.

But I'm not in it for the money, at least not wholly. The blog is for me, or at least writing it is. It's been too too many years since I've written anything that doesn't have to do with employment policy, and once upon a time I fancied myself a writer. Frankly, I do enough for other people all day long (year long, decade long), and lately I've been feeling like there is just not enough time for "me". A friend recently ask me what it was like working and raising a family. The truth is, it's a bitch. I know, it's the typical working-mom lament - work all day, and then turn in the laptop for my mom hat the second I step foot in the house. Dinner, homework, bath time, bedtime. Then my bedtime. On weekends I get to sub in grocery shopping and house cleaning and laundry and play dates for work. I'm doing good if I can squeeze in a workout on Saturday AND Sunday. I knew it had gotten bad when my husband told my son he couldn't go grocery shopping with me because "that's mommy's time." While I admittedly pray to the church of Danny Wegman, changes were in order.

It started with the dancing. Determined to carve out some johnna-time in the chaos, I looked for something that might also perk up my saggy...I mean, sagging...workout program. Park Avenue Dance Company seemed to offer the perfect solution. Their website boasted instruction for "dancers and non-dancers." Awesome. I could bust a move, get a work out in, and get a jump on my Dancing With The Stars training.

At the first class, I was a bit taken aback at the room full of 20-year-old actual dancers enrolled in the Beginning Contemporary Dance class. Turns out I fit into one of the categories, just not the one I expected.

Eight weeks in, and I have finally learned to walk in circles, frontwards and back. Trust me, that is harder than it sounds. But hey, I was having fun and mission johnna-time was making progress. And I liked it, it felt good to take one hour a week to do something just because I wanted to. Not because it was my job or because it needed to be done but because I was having fun. And that compelled me to make other changes, like going for a walk at lunchtime everyday instead of eating hunched over the pile of papers on my desk. I was on a roll. And the groceries still got bought and the homework still got done. The world did not end. Learning how to take some time for myself without feeling guilty about it made writing this blog easy. Internet notoriety, tango with Derek, here I come. The Benjamins will come eventually, or maybe not. As long as Lil Kim stays out of my way...