Wednesday evening is Dance class. Lydia, who's 3, and Quinn, who's 7, both take lessons at the same time which works out great logistically speaking because I only have to drag the babies out once a week, instead of twice. I dread it. Every week, I dread it, but I think to myself that I can suck it up for this one hour each week since the girls enjoy it so much, so I do.
Why do I dread it? Let's begin there. Well, it's the babies. The entrance to the studio is a door with three steps leading up to it which make it absolutely impossible to pull a double stroller up and into the building, so I have to roll the twins to the door, take them out one by one and put them inside, then come back out for the stroller, which I then lift into the building. In the meantime, a wave of teenagers are trying to exit the place from their classes and Lydia and Quinn are lost in the throng of people. It's crazy.
Then, once inside, it's better, but the babies are busting into classrooms and running all over the entire hour we're there. I bring toys, treats, drinks, anything to keep them happy. It works...sort of.
Well, tonight, Lydia decided when we got there that she wasn't going to do her class. She just started to cry and stood there, refusing to go into the classroom. I knew better than to force her. So, I didn't push it. I said, if you're not going to dance, then you have to sit against the wall and wait for Quinn's class to be over. She did that, all the while sobbing, "I WANT MY GRANDMA!".
Next, I get out some toys for the babies to play with and Lydia decides she wants to play with them. Being the mean Mom that I am, I told her that she couldn't. I said, if you're not going to dance, then you can't play. I said, if you feel that bad, you should sit quietly. Well, that resulted in more sobbing. The other parents in the waiting area were probably annoyed and discretely eyeing my chaos while, I'm sure, thinking either that I was insane, or that I was the meanest Mom EVER (which I'm told all the time that I am, so it must be true!).
William, who can't sit still to save his soul, was rambling about the room around that time and discovers the water fountain (Great!). He also quickly figured out how to turn it on and stick his arm in the water to get soaking wet. I thought to myself, how much damage is he really doing? None! So, let him get wet! It was keeping him busy and I was holding a sobbing three year old who wants her Grandma, while Hayden was scribbling in a Color Wonder book on the floor. The problem came when the dance kids wanted a drink and he wouldn't move, so then I moved him and then he started crying - it was not pretty. I had two crying, one coloring, and one dancing at that moment. Then, Lydia decides she has to go to the bathroom. Of course she does! What is worse than dragging all three little ones to the restroom? Let me think. Not much!
Why do I dread it? Let's begin there. Well, it's the babies. The entrance to the studio is a door with three steps leading up to it which make it absolutely impossible to pull a double stroller up and into the building, so I have to roll the twins to the door, take them out one by one and put them inside, then come back out for the stroller, which I then lift into the building. In the meantime, a wave of teenagers are trying to exit the place from their classes and Lydia and Quinn are lost in the throng of people. It's crazy.
Then, once inside, it's better, but the babies are busting into classrooms and running all over the entire hour we're there. I bring toys, treats, drinks, anything to keep them happy. It works...sort of.
Well, tonight, Lydia decided when we got there that she wasn't going to do her class. She just started to cry and stood there, refusing to go into the classroom. I knew better than to force her. So, I didn't push it. I said, if you're not going to dance, then you have to sit against the wall and wait for Quinn's class to be over. She did that, all the while sobbing, "I WANT MY GRANDMA!".
Next, I get out some toys for the babies to play with and Lydia decides she wants to play with them. Being the mean Mom that I am, I told her that she couldn't. I said, if you're not going to dance, then you can't play. I said, if you feel that bad, you should sit quietly. Well, that resulted in more sobbing. The other parents in the waiting area were probably annoyed and discretely eyeing my chaos while, I'm sure, thinking either that I was insane, or that I was the meanest Mom EVER (which I'm told all the time that I am, so it must be true!).
William, who can't sit still to save his soul, was rambling about the room around that time and discovers the water fountain (Great!). He also quickly figured out how to turn it on and stick his arm in the water to get soaking wet. I thought to myself, how much damage is he really doing? None! So, let him get wet! It was keeping him busy and I was holding a sobbing three year old who wants her Grandma, while Hayden was scribbling in a Color Wonder book on the floor. The problem came when the dance kids wanted a drink and he wouldn't move, so then I moved him and then he started crying - it was not pretty. I had two crying, one coloring, and one dancing at that moment. Then, Lydia decides she has to go to the bathroom. Of course she does! What is worse than dragging all three little ones to the restroom? Let me think. Not much!
It's nights like these, or situations like these, that I think back on later and say, "did I handle that alright, or was I a freak!?" While I'm going through it, I try to tell myself, "only a few more minutes and we can leave", or "this is really not in my control, so I need to let it be out of control and do my best to remain calm". Have you ever been somewhere and the kids are acting crazy (like mine were tonight) and the parents are threatening them within an inch of their life or taking away everything except permission to breathe? Yeah, in fact, it happened in the cry room at church on Sunday. When Quinn was little, truthfully, that would have been me too. Now, I try to remember that they are little people with big minds of their own and when they decide to dig in their heels (especially when they're three!), you may have to give them the reins that they so badly want to control for a little bit. Then you help them to understand the outcome may not be what they were hoping for when you send them to bed early and refuse to let them play and goof off during dance class.
SCORE, Mom.
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