dance moms

- this is how I feel something from: where else

I can't believe I forgot to tell you this yesterday. You won't believe what another mother said to me at dance class. 

Just when you thought you could get away without my weekly "Violet cries at dance class and I question my ability to parent" post...

Since you know the routine I'll stick to the basics. The tears started on the drive to class, by the time the teacher had to pry Vi's hands from my neck she was in full on hysterics. Hyperventilation by the child was followed by an "invitation" for me come into the studio. I reluctantly joined the class. Violet sat on my lap, a sobbing, sweating, but heartbreakingly cute ball of fury.

Just another Saturday morning.

For some reason other parents were in the classroom again, even though they are encouraged to wait outside. One mum leaned over to me and asked if this was Violet's first time at dance class. I explained that she had been in dance before, but that she seems to be in some sort of phase. The mum looked at me with sympathy (not real sympathy, condescending sympathy) and said, "poor girl, is there something going on at home?"

Seriously?

Those kind of comments kill me. If something was going on, which is isn't, would I tell a total stranger in my daughter's dance class? What a moron.

Of course in real life I said "no nothing" and smiled (really fakely).

I can't believe she said that, what a...wait, is something going on at home I wondered? Are we working too much? I never take Violet to the pool, good parents always seem to be in the pool, maybe that is the problem. Maybe we need to go to the park more -- does not going to the park everyday count as "something going on at home"? I let Vi eat sugar and use real butter on her toast, could that be it, that is borderline child abuse right? Maybe this is only-child behaviour, maybe if she had a sibling she would like dance class more?

Even though I know it is silly, I do worry that maybe Jeff and I are doing something wrong and that we are the reason Violet cries during dance class. I understand in my head that those thoughts are crazy and  toxic, but they creep up every time I see a room full of happy dancers and my little puddle of sweat and tears melts onto my lap.

Can I retire now? Being a grandparent looks like fun. I think I'd be good at that.

Oh gosh, imagine how much I am going to over analyze things once Vi gets to school, or worse, when she is a teenager.

xo

Em

back to reality

{cuddles before breakfast and my new favourite picture}

This weekend really felt like fall. I don't mean the weather necessarily, but just the fact that we seemed busy from the moment we woke up until we fell into bed (at 8:00 pm if you must know). Other than a few milestones, Violet wants to be called Bingo from now on and a chickadee landed on her hand while we were at the park (she now believes she is Snow While incarnate), the weekend was pretty standard for this time of year. In fact, while we were standing outside Costco this afternoon I felt a wave of self-pity come over me. Why are we aways so busy? I just want to sleep...for two weeks. I let myself wallow for a few minutes, but then I snapped out it of. We are busy because we choose to be, we are so blessed to have Violet to take care of -- even the monotonous stuff is a really big gift. Some not so fun stuff has happened in our lives lately and the silver lining in all the sadness has been that I realize that now.

I can't always snap myself out of a mini-funk, but today I did. Could have been my new take on life, could have been all the jelly bean samples.

Here are a few pictures from our weekend that was full of laundry, dishwashing, chauffeuring and a healthy dose of toddler (little kid? cue weeping) attitude. Despite all that, or perhaps because of it, it was awesome.

xo

Em

{pumpkin muffins: before}

{story of my life -- you too?}

{the return of the bodum}

{first steel cut oats of the autumn}

{pumpkin muffins: after}

{be still my heart}

{new church shoes - thanks Nanny}

{keeping up with her mama}

{I have to stop myself from eating those cheeks}

{this photo is included and was taken at Violet's request}

it's the most wonderful time of the year

{so excited for dance class}

Dance class resumed this week! Yippee, an activity that is never rarely accompanied by tears. Violet has been waiting all summer for this, or wait, was that me? Violet was pretty pumped when I reminded her last night.

We had to switch studios this fall because the two available time slots for Vi's age group conflicted with the market and church. At her new studio dancers of all ages have to wear a "uniform". All the kids in creative movement (pre-pre-ballet) have to wear blue bodysuits and pink footless tights. This displeased Violet who much preferred her tulle embellished pink satin bodysuit and sparkly sweater she had become accustomed to wearing. There were tears. Threats were made. The blue bodysuit was donned. I swear if Red is Best hadn't already been written, I would have been inspired by Violet to write it (it would be called Pink is Best though).

Violet marched into her dance class gave me a kiss and I said goodbye. Parents were welcome to observe the first class but I knew if I was there Violet would want to sit with me so I opted to wait in the hall. I was there for at least 15 minutes. Then Ms. V (the teacher) came out, "is Violet's mum here?". Well, at least we lasted 15 minutes. There were live drums in the class and worse they were being played by a man. Couple that with scary parent observers and you'll have a very uncomfortable Violet. "I want my old dance class" she wailed. "We can quit church or stop going to the market," I thought to myself. Or we could give this more than a week and let her get comfortable -- that seems more rational than giving up our religious values, no?

So we are off to a slightly rocky start. Has anyone dealt with a child who was nervous in activities? Violet is great at daycare, loves Sunday school, has sleepovers with friends -- she just doesn't seem to like to perform alone in front of adults. If you met her you'd assume she'd love the attention.

I wish I was a child psychologist, although I would always have a hard time spelling my occupation which could be awkward...

xo

Em

{she calls this move "V for Violet"}

{the difference between running and  dancing is hard for the naked eye to observe}

{she has the diva thing down}

{a few of the girls trickling into class}