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By: Daphne Greve

Welcome back, TPS Nation! We hope this post finds you fabulous, filthy rich, and fully-caffeinated in the legal trenches. (Well, a girl can hope.) We’re here today with what we view to be a good post for any human, and especially those in that fun phase of life known as “adulting.” Yep, those peeps not so discreetly tucked between the folds of work, money, career, family, and life, otherwise known as: you and me. So what makes this one a “legal” genre post? Only the fact that it was written by a paralegal. But, who cares? It’s great content. An important message. It applies to every person. And besides, what other opportunity would we have to feature clip art of a lady singing into a waffle cone that just happens to be filled with chocolate ice cream? (Yes, chocolate.) We’re. Just. Saying.

Read it and enjoy! 

lady singing into ice cream cone.jpg

I am a responsible adult. I’m married with 2 daughters, 1 stepdaughter, 7 grandchildren, and 2 fur-babies. I work at a law firm full time and run a little bookkeeping business on the side. I pay bills, cook, clean, tend to the fur-babies, attend Sunday service, and perform various administrative duties for the church. My husband and I visit our oldest daughter and her family frequently (they live around the corner), and have anywhere from 1 to 3 grandchildren over to spend the night on any given weekend. I am very good at what the younger generation calls “adulting.” To say that my days are full is like saying that the sun is bright on an August day.

One Saturday not too long ago we had three of our granddaughters (12, 7, and 3-years-old) over to spend the night. Usually, when they visit for a sleepover, we have a variety of daytime activities: an art project, board game, and/or formal tea party, and conclude the day by cooking dinner together, going out for ice cream, and snuggling down to watch a movie before bed. On this particular weekend, it was raining and I had a variety of things I needed to do around the house that I didn’t manage to get done before they came, so they all volunteered (I swear!) to help me. Before we got started, I decided to put on some music. I have a backup drive plugged into my computer and pulled up one of my favorite playlists for housework and started playing it. That playlist contains a medley of songs from the 70s, 80s, and 90s; mostly rock and roll but some pop and country. As I was working, I started singing along with one of the songs. My oldest granddaughter, Savannah, was shocked. “Nana!  I didn’t know you liked that kind of music! I thought you only liked Christian music or talk radio!” (Well, yes, I do, but I grew up in the 70s and 80s—the best time for rock & roll music—and love it all. But boy, did that make me sound ancient!)

And that’s when my silly kicked in. I pretended to have a microphone in my hand and began belting out some Creedence—Proud Mary, no less—in Tina Turner fashion, complete with dancing around ala Tina Turner. I thought my granddaughters, especially the oldest, were going to die laughing. The 7-year-old just stood there with her mouth hanging open and the 3-year-old giggled and started bouncing around with me. Then I handed out invisible microphones and they began belting out “rollin,’ rollin’, rollin’ on the river” and dancing around with me. Now, I can barely carry a tune in a bucket, and I certainly do NOT have the body or moves of Tina Turner, making my foray into silliness even more hysterical, but we sang as loudly and as proudly as we could, falling out laughing like loons. Afterwards, Savannah checked out my playlist to see what other “cool” songs Nana had, and we spend the rest of the afternoon rocking and singing with invisible microphones and laughing.

After they went to bed, I tried to remember the last time I allowed myself to just be silly—to not care how I looked or sounded or whether anyone would approve—and I realized I couldn’t remember. And that made me a little sad. Somehow, in my being good at adulting, I forgot how to be silly and how much fun that is.

When I took the girls home, Savannah ran into the house yelling “Mom! Mom! Nana knows…[I can’t remember the name of the song she was shouting about] … and she had all these songs on her computer and …!” My daughter just smiled and nodded. She knew. I shared them with her from the time she was born. We used to sing them together when she was little. But that was a long time ago, before I got buried in the onslaught of years I’ve spent adulting, and long before I remembered how incredibly important it is to add a big side of silly to life.

When the grandkids come over again, I’m renting a karaoke machine.

Daphne Greve is a full-time litigation paralegal and president of DLG Bookkeeping+Administrative Services. She’s also a wife, mother, Nana to 7 grandkids, pet parent, and church volunteer. She is an introvert who likes all types of music (except rap, screaming metal, and opera), and enjoys most types of movies and plays. She is also an avid reader, putters with homemade beauty products, and loves to cook. Connect with Daphne on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/daphnelgreve.


So whatcha think, TPSers? Have you ever had a similar experience in your life? Is there a specific moment that sticks out to you? Did you find this post inspiring? If so, hit that comment button. No, really. Hit the button. It’s right down there ↓. We’d love to hear about it.

As always, all likes and shares are greatly appreciated. We couldn’t do it without you. Now go rock the heck out of this week. Grab that caffeinated beverage, grab that pen mic sitting deskside, and let the good times roll…

We’ll see you next time!