I wrote earlier about Ella's first ballet class and the unsuccess of it all. I am happy to report that now, at week 10, she is very happy about dance class. She loves to see her teacher, she participates with gusto, she comes out at the end of the hour with a huge smile on her face. There's just one problem. The problem is that Dash and I are her hostages.
Every week, an hour before class, we have the same conversation.
Me: Ella, time to go pick out your dance clothes!
Ella: OK! <Long and involved process of picking out the perfect leotard/tutu/tights combination>
Me: Now, Ella, today during dance class, Dash and I are going to go take a short walk while you have fun with teacher Danielle and all of your friends.
Ella: <Immediate tears. More tears. Big loud sobs> Mommy, I feel so unhappy when you leave. Mommy, I will be so sad without you. Mommy, I can't be by myself. I neeeeeed you, Mommy.
Me: OK, fine, this week I will stay. But next week, I am going to go for a short walk, OK?
Ella: <Sniffle> OK, Mommy. Next week. I promise.
She has been promising that I can go for a walk "next week" for the last 8 weeks.
So we go to ballet class every Monday afternoon, Dash strapped onto my chest, and after I deposit Ella (happily, I might add) in her dance studio, I watch all the other mommys leave to go get a latte or enjoy a nice walk. Dash and I, the hostages of the almighty Ella, we wait in the lobby. And we're not talking about a large, open, clean, cushy lobby. I love this dance studio, I really do, but there's just no getting around the fact that it is old and it is crusty. And it is small. The lobby probably measures 5 feet by 10 feet with doors on all sides, to two studios, the outside hallway, the small bathroom, and the reception desk. There is one small wooden bench and a few metal folding chairs.
For the first few weeks, I brought a blanket for Dash and a bag of toys and we just plunked down on the floor. Then I saw two siblings puke on the lobby floor (really) and I very quickly stopped putting Dash down. So now we just wait, standing, me and my boy. He hangs out in the Ergo or occasionally on my lap on the wooden bench. We might read a story, he eats some Cheerios, we do some wrestling when he very clearly wants to get down. And I fumigate any toys or pacifiers that fall on the floor. It is not very fun.
Here's another reason why being the only mom who stays through the whole class bites... I'm the default potty mom. At some point during the class, some little girl has to pee which inevitably starts the potty parade. One by one, the teacher lets the girls come out of the studio where they stand helplessly in the bathroom door until I brightly say "Need some help?" There's some sort of unwritten motherly code that if another child needs your help, you give it. And I was really OK with my potty duties for the first weeks of the hostage situation. I just saw it as part of my job as A Mom, Any Mom, the Mom who is there at the moment of need. But today when the receptionist said to me "You really seem to know all the children in this class! Do you see them outside of ballet?" and I laughed and told her the only reason that I know them all is because I have watched their class for the past 10 weeks and I have helped most of them peel their leotard on and off in a small cramped bathroom stall while trying not to drop Dash on his head.
Do you see why this is not my favorite hour of the week? But Ella LOVES this class. When I watch her through the studio window, she is smiling and talking and, most of all, dancing with such obvious joy that it always makes me grin. She comes home and shows me all the ballet steps she is learning. Her lisped French is so cute it almost kills me. So we keep going.
I fully expect to be a hostage again next Monday afternoon and the one after that. But you never know. My captor has promised me that "next week" I can take a short walk to Whole Foods. I'll let you know.
Two hostages. At least we're smiling hostages.
Here's another picture I found on my phone. Every week I entertain
myself tryiing to take pictures of me and Dash in the ballet mirror.
