Leila Gymnast

The honeymoon is over with ballet, for both Leila and myself. Leila decided she liked tumbling better, and I have gained a new perspective on ballet class, which I am sure is very similar to the perspective my parents had when I took ballet.

We arrive to the studio to see flyers posted everywhere stating that "Today is the last day to place orders for gala costumes." So I inquire to see if the pre-school classes participate, which they do, and I prepare to place my order. $80. For a leotard and tutu. For a 4 year old. I am then handed a packet of instructions on how to apply makeup, to my 4 year old, and how ballet shoes must not look worn, otherwise new ones should be purchased. And an announcement would come later on when tickets would be available and how much. For a 30 minute performance, for the parents of her class. Just a little bit of overkill, I think.

Fortunately, on the drive home, Leila admitted that she would rather do tumbling. I was almost relieved, except for the $80 that I had just dropped for the "gala". Sheepishly I called the administrative assistant when I got home, the one that I had spoken with several times when Leila was on the wait list, and then when there was finally an opening, and then to coordinate enrollment. She was kind enough to void the tutu payment.

At the gymnastics center, there is no recital. And you can buy a gently used leotard for $12. And they know how to throw one hell of a birthday party for a 4 year old.

Teeth

On Thursday, the oldest son of one of my coworkers swallowed some blue chemical in a test tube left over from one of his parents' high school chemistry classes. The whole family spent the afternoon in the emergency room while they monitored the boy to make sure he wouldn't have any reaction to it. It turned out to be some relatively harmless copper solution and the boy was fine.

I relayed the story to Kevin that evening and we both shook our heads in empathy to what the parents must have been going through. Later that night, as Sabina was climbing the stairs to her room, we noticed she had a funny expression on her face, like she had a large yet swallowable object in her mouth. "Sabina, do you have something in your mouth?", both of us looking at her very concerned/panicked. She looked at us solemnly, and nodded her head. "What's in your mouth?", more panicked.

"Teeth," she said.

Leila Ballerina

Yesterday Leila had her first ballerina class. Although the studio she attended is a bigger and obviously newer than the Sharon Long studio in Tupelo, it brought back a rush of memories of when I took ballet. The hours of practice, the generic classical piano music that we did exercises over and over to. The multitudes of leotards and tights, the blue to black toenails from marching in pointe shoes, the goofing around with my friends during breaks. The performances, and the flowers afterward (thanks Mom and Dad). Even though I stopped my sophomore year in high school, ballet was something that was my very own, it was and still is a part of me, and I am so glad for that experience. Even if it isn't ballet, I hope both Leila and Sabina each find something that they feel the same way about.

Our New House!!

I should say, our new carpet. We had new carpet installed on Monday and Tuesday. It is nothing less than beautiful... cottony soft... luxurious. I don't think I have ever felt like this before about carpet, but if you had seen our original carpet, you would understand. The color was harmless enough, so it was tolerable.It was just very, very tired. It was 15 years old and supported two 100 lb dogs for three years near the end of its life.

I don't know if it is a rule that installers must arrive late and stay well past your bedtime, but this is the second time it has happened. This time the carpet made up for it. And the installers did an awesome job, in spite of their tardiness.

And now, let's see how long the carpet lasts. Supposedly you can clean up spilled red wine with mere water, but that is one test I am not trying any time soon. That would be a waste of some perfectly good red wine.

Fool Me Twice ....

The other day, while Kevin was out of town, I thought I would let Sabina color at the counter to occupy her time while I fixed dinner. I gave her some paper and some washable markers (thank you Crayola!) and immediately became distracted with cooking. A few minutes later, when I stopped to look at what she was doing, she had purple lips and had colored all over the top of her left hand.

"Sabina, don't put that in your mouth. If I see it in your mouth again, I will take the markers away."
"'Tay," she said. Wet wipes on the face and hands, all clean, start cooking again.

I turned around again a few minutes later, and her lips are blue. "OK, Sabina. No more markers. Mommy is going to get some crayons." Crayons! I am so clever! Why didn't I think of that before? Set her up with the crayons, start cooking again.

I checked on her a few minutes later, and she was coloring on her fingernails and then blowing on them to dry. Oh, how cute! She thinks she is painting her fingernails! "Are you painting your fingernails! Oh, they will look so pretty!"

Did you know that washable crayons, when mixed with saliva, can create a paste that looks a lot like nail polish? Fortunately it washed off.

A few days later, we were at the easel drawing on the whiteboard, side-by-side. Surely I would notice if she began to draw on herself. But no, Mommy is all caught up in drawing a tree with some flowers. I look over at her and she has a big blue mark across her cheek and has colored her hand again.

Let's hope I learn something before she starts sneaking out of the house.

A Monumental Event

Obama's inauguration was a historical event. We have seen a lot of coverage on the news and Leila understands that he is the president. She doesn't understand, however, why it is a big deal. I am going to wait to explain that to her. She doesn't understand racism yet, and I don't want to have to explain to her why some people might think less of her because of the color of her skin. I know it will be a lesson she will have to learn, but I am just not ready.

The Dewdrop Report

Sabina's classroom at school is called the Dewdrop room. (The next room up, full of 2-year-olds, is appropriately called the Hurricane room.) Every day, we fill out an information sheet about how she slept, when she woke up, last diaper change, etc. The teachers fill in other information throughout the day about what they ate, how long their nap was, potty times, and general notes about their behavior.

Sabina's notes always say something about being silly. She is an extremely silly child and loves to laugh, but I think even more, she loves to make other people laugh with her. The other day, in addition to the usual silly comment, the notes said, "Extremely talkative! She even said 'no' to Miss Katie and also asked her 'why'!!!" You mean she has just now started doing that at school?? We have been subject to it for months. We have to specifically ask her to say "yes" just to get some practice in. Something is askew here.

And then I start thinking... how did I view my teachers compared to my parents? Who did I talk back to more? Ah. I think I get it now.