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So, the thing is that I really meant to write a totally different column.

I really meant to write a deep and profound column this time because let’s just say the response to my last column, which was an attempt at humor, was not universally positive. Not that I’m bitter, but I did get an “UNSUBSCRIBE IMMEDIATELY!” (I ask you, is it really necessary to SHOUT that?) Frankly, I prefer a nice “Please take me off your list because I find that your words move me so much that I am crying too hard to function on the job. But sign me up for the book when it comes out.” And if they want to mention any publishing contacts they might have... but I digress.

Anyway, I was going to write this meaningful column.

But last week, Smiley Jane suddenly learned to laugh aloud. And I've just not gotten anything serious done since. Every time she laughs, I have to laugh myself. There is nothing funnier than a twelve-pound, three-month-old baby with no teeth laughing a deep belly laugh out of sheer joy. It’s contagious and it’s FUNNY. And Jane has this dimple…well, I’m not going to gush.

She was laughing because I was dancing with her and she just LOVED it. Babies laugh with their whole bodies, you know. The smile seems to start somewhere around the navel and just radiates outward. At first she sort of sounded like she was barking –which was hysterical –but now she has the full laugh, complete with gurgles and coos. For some reason, she thinks it’s the funniest thing ever if I say “ah-GOO” to her. I don’t know what that means in baby language but whatever it is, it’s FUNNY. (Yesterday, I walked in on Ana sitting where she could get really close to Jane's face and saying "ah-GOO!" Apparently, NO ONE can resist that laugh.)

I don’t know when we stop laughing like that –when it is that our joy becomes tempered in some way. It’s clear that joy is innate so I don’t know at what point we lose our ability to experience it. Just like love. There’s no love as pure as that of a child –especially an infant. It’s totally unconditional and it certainly never wavers—not when I’m bleary eyed or unwashed or out of orange juice. We could learn a lot from the purity of emotions displayed by children, especially infants. When was the last time you had a moment of sheer joy –without some detracting voice in your head saying “Yes, but the fat content in this is much too high and I'll have to spend more time on the Stairmaster later to pay for this.” Or “This is perfect relaxation but I really should be cleaning out my garage.” Or “I really am in love this person –but I wish he shared my passion for traditional Gaelic songs for lute.” Or “Sure I'm dancing but I bet I look silly.”

It seems to me that somewhere along the way, we lose the gift of purity of emotions. We start filtering the expression of our emotions because of societal constraints and pretty soon, we actually lose the ability to experience them.

In some ways, maybe that’s a good thing. I’m having a vision of people bursting into tears at the local diner because they’re hungry. Standing in the dentist’s office sobbing over a toothache. Throwing their computers to the floor when they find themselves frustrated on the job. Shouting “UNSUBSCRIBE IMMEDIATELY!” at some poor writer who was-- hello-- JOKING! (Not that I’m bitter.)

Seriously, do you think it’s a natural by-product of stifling the emotions that we deem unacceptable that we also must stifle the joyful ones? I really don’t know, I’m asking. I work hard to encourage the healthy and constructive expression of emotions by my kids, but I don’t know if that robs them of some of the joy that comes with not filtering every feeling.

The thing is, we are programmed to feel all these emotions but we’re not programmed to communicate them appropriately. So that becomes a challenge to all parents—how to encourage our children to express their emotions –but not so much expression that they never get invited to parties. Clearly, laughter and love are easily encouraged. I will gladly say “ah-GOO!” for fourteen years straight if that’s what it takes to get a belly laugh out of my girls. But it’s harder with the negative emotions—the ones WE never learned were okay. Heck, I was thirty years old before I found out it was okay to express anger. And then I did it in such a spectacular way that it involved some large personal property damage. (Won’t be telling the girls THAT story, thank you.)

My friend Linda has a Masters in Early Childhood Education and three children. When Ana first started showing her temper, I begged for some advice. Linda said that we, as parents, have to determine what way of expressing negative emotions is acceptable to us and then teach that to our children. Because they have to express themselves, or they stuff their feelings away and they will burst forth during their terrible adolescences when all emotions dwell just below the surface anyway. (Okay, I made that last part up.) But back to my toddler, clearly, biting, hitting and kicking are unacceptable (especially when I’M the target!) so what other way can Ana display her anger? Well, she can stomp her feet or punch a pillow or even slam a door. Do I love that kind of behavior? No, I do not. But it’s an acceptable way to express herself.

The other tool Linda gave me on this subject is the Mad Dance. From the time Ana could first walk, I have encouraged her to do a Mad Dance when she’s angry. This requires lots of stomping feet and flailing arms and a sustained high pitch shriek. Frequently, I join in. Then we both collapse in giggles, tension diffused. Lately, she’s even decided on her own to do a Happy Dance. (Although, here’s a typical toddler exchange if ever there was one. Ana: “Mom, I’m doing a Happy Dance!” Mom: “That’s wonderful! Are you happy?” Ana: “No.”)

So here we are again, back to dancing. And speaking of that, I find I need a belly laugh or two. If you'll excuse me…

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