Susan Senator

I just got back from a conference I went to with a very good friend of mine, to network and sell books, and I feel like I did really well. This was a large gathering of School Committee members and superintendents from across the state, and many are interested in addressing autism in their schools successfully. My publisher made me a flyer based on the info I posted a week ago, and I set up a table where there was tons of traffic. I sold books while my friend attended workshops and panels. We would occasionally meet up and eat and gossip. It was really fun and profitable for both of us. We also decided to share a hotel room to save money, and I was looking forward to that, too: just like a sleepover party from my middle school days!

Of course it was the unexpected that made the trip so great. After a full day of meeting people, seeing old colleagues and friends, connecting, talking school issues, and telling them about my book, there was a dinner and then a party in the bar, with a DJ. A bunch of us went from dinner straight to the bar. We didn’t think we would stay very long; I was exhausted from the day, plus the night before I had been awakened twice by Little B who had had a bad dream! (I have to say that I secretly enjoy his bad dreams, though, because a) they are always fascinating; usually they are about a giant something or other — horseshoe crab, spider — nature or pedestrian things out of control — a lamp starts talking to him, that kind of thing. And 2) he lets me hold him in my arms, snuggled in bed, for as long as I want. He leaves it up to me, how long he needs to dispell the nightmare. It is the sweetest thing in the world. I cannot think of a joy greater than holding that little boy, with his back to me, his glossy smooth brown hair pressed up against my nose, his navy blue flannel-covered small body that smells like warm toast filling my arms. Plus the fact that he is such a tough guy, a Mr. Macho, yet he climbs into my bed with his blue teddy bear (Bluebeary) and just waits for me to take care of the bad dream. This is how I know there is a God, by the way. The fact that our children make us feel so happy. So now you know! No more doubts.

Anyway, I was exhausted after the networking and the dinner, but the bar was pleasant and the DJ was playing some really danceable songs. Suddenly some women were doing the “Electric Slide,” which I’d never seen, and I knew I’d be dancing soon. I requested, “Hips Don’t Lie,” and the guy obliged immediately. Then I asked for the Pussycat Dolls (great name!) and other weird and wonderful Hip-Hop.

And I did belly dance moves, (hip snake, hip eight, taffy pull snake arms, modified shimmies, hip circles, shoulder shimmies) rather than just flailing my arms and hopping like I used to when I danced in high school and college. I was trying to move as precisely as possible, while still being fluid and soft. People noticed and were clapping and hooting! (In a good way) A woman I had befriended let me dance with her beautiful purple silk scarf, like a veil. I could not believe how good this all felt, to be dancing to my favorite workout songs with one of my very best friends and some new ones, doing (discreet) belly dancing in public for the first time — and being well received!

All this — the belly dancing, the travel, and the networking — is so new for me, and so enjoyable. I never realized adult life could be so fulfilling on so many levels. I thought I was already blessed, with three darling boys and a writing career and a magnificent husband who is also my best friend, but sometimes Life stretches out her sinuous arms towards you and offers you even more. But it’s new, different, and therefore scary. So the trick is in having the guts to take her up on it when it is right for you.