S's ballet class was tonight. She missed last week since she was sick.
Since the last class, we've practiced most of what she learned. First, second, fourth and fifth positions, arm positions, prancing around on tiptoes. She loves it all.
But today, as we left the Y, a week's worth of screeching, screaming, ear splitting caterwauling finally got the best of me.
S: (assorted screeching, yelling, and kicking)
Me: If you don't stop screaming this instant, young lady, you will NOT be attending ballet class tonight.
S: NO! NOOOO! I want to go to ballet class. I waannnnaaaa gooooooooooo!!!
Me: Then you need to stop screaming. You are actually making my ears hurt. Hush!
S: (Screaming and flailing about)
Me: Do you want to go to ballet tonight?
S: Yes! I don't want you. I want Daddy! Don't WANT YOU!
Me: You want Dad to take you?
S: Yes. NOT YOU! Daddy! NOT YOU, MOMMY! You make me cry!
sigh. I wonder, really I do, how I will survive her teenage years without losing my mind.
So I email R as soon as we get home. Please take your banshee of a daughter to ballet tonight, okay? He agrees (because my husband? He totally rocks!) and we make plans to meet at his car at the end of the workday so he can just take off from there to get her to class on time. T and I will then go back home and start dinner.
Only.....
On the way to take the kids to meet R, T tells me he wants to go and watch S's ballet class. And as we pull up, I realize that the one thing R asked me to do which was to bring him some civilian clothes and shoes--I've forgotten. Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!
And then, after all the weeping and wailing and whatever-ing throughout the day, S refuses to get out of the van and into R's car because, and I quote, "I waaaaaannnnnntttttt Moooooooommmmmmmyyyyyyyyy to doooooooooooooooo iiiiiiiiiiittttttttttttttttttttttt"
R and T head home so R can change clothes and they'll meet us there. So even though I was planning to go back home and get the clothes for R that I'd forgotten, I end up taking S to ballet class.
I have no idea. I'm just trying to roll with it.
S and I get to the Y, walk through the workout room (where kids are not allowed, btw) to get to the aerobics room where they actually have ballet class. The door is locked, the room is dark, and there is no instructor to be found. I check the clock...we are 15 minutes early. No problem. We'll just wait.
Yeeaaah. My tempestuous three year old in a room with all sorts of spinning, mechanical, neatly lighted up machines that she's not allowed to go near or touch. It went over brilliantly. And I notice that people keep shooting me looks which I interpret as "Why is there a 3 year old in the cardio area?" But hey - she's in a ballet outfit with ballet slippers on and we are waiting by the aerobics room door. So I - the gal that's been dealing with a screamer for five solid days non stop, who is getting sick and is utterly exhausted - just smile and wave at the shooters of the evil looks and encourage S to do the same. She's not so into that idea, as it turns out, and does NOT like that we are stuck outside the room we need to be in and that she can't do what she wants which is run around the track and go and check out the machines. And let's just guess how she deals with that?
Uh-huh. You got it. Screaming.
Luckily, R and T come up so she's distracted for a few minutes, but she still ends up in a very public time out. Hate it for her.
Right before class was supposed to start the room is still locked and none of the other students were there, I start to wonder if maybe they've moved or cancelled class. R goes to check and nope, not cancelled, not moved.
Five minutes after class was supposed to have started with only one of the other three students there, S and I walk to the front desk to ask if someone can open the aerobics room because between my two kids and the fellow ballet student, there was some rebellion going on about not being able to do anything besides stand by the door. The staff member at the front desk is not feeling me on opening the door and explains to me that kids can't be in the aerobics room if the teacher isn't in there. So I snarkily point out that the kids a) aren't without supervision. Hello! Parents! Automatic supervision! b) aren't supposed to be hanging out in the cardio room but have been since it's now 5:07 and the instructor hasn't shown up, and c) I've counted six staff members - four of which don't seem to be busy right now, so can't one of them come and open the room and stay until the instructor decides to show?!?
At that point, of course, the instructor walks in, so S and I head to back to the aerobics room for class.
Whateva.
T has a meltdown because he wants to run around the aerobics room and I won't let him. S is too busy looking at herself in the mirror to remember more than 15 seconds of what she has been asked to do. But - as an aside - how cool is it that three and four year olds love to look at themselves in a mirror?!?! There's no criticism, no judgement -- just delight to spin around and see their skirt swirl about. I love that. Love that!!!
We made it through class, all four of us, and headed home for a quick dinner and then the bedtime routine. Let's hope next week will be more quiet and timely.
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