Can I just take a minute to tell you about the most painful hour of my week? My kid’s dance class. Saturday mornings, 9:15 – 10 a.m. (Not even an hour but it feels like 5.) Here’s how it goes.
- Drive my girl 6 minutes to dance class. 6 minutes provides 360 opportunities for my girl to ask me to play Let It Go on the radio. Because I control what they play on the radio. (I know this has nothing to do with dance but it is my reality.)
- Get there, fight to back into a space (even with my back-up camera) because all the spaces are crooked and dumb. And because I’m a terrible driver. (Again, my reality.)
- Rush my girl in, take off her shoes and prod her into class. Abby, go. Gooooo. Go. Get in there. …There are two moms that are usually there before me and they are just like me. Wearing their yoga pants and t-shirts, just happy to be there on time. It’s gone unsaid so far but I’m pretty positive not a single one of us does yoga. Come on now.
- Pick a seat that’s out of sight from the classroom door because if my kid sees me when she’s supposed to be dancing, game over.
- Get comfortable for about 3 minutes before she comes back out for a potty break. Even though I’d asked her 14 times before we left if she had to go. (Now lets talk about Let It Go, kid.) Take care of that, get her back to class.
- Sit back down, load up Candy Crush on my phone since I can’t see the TVs broadcasting rehearsal from my chair anyhow. People usually don’t sit next to me until there are no other available chairs. It took me a few months and a few different types of deodorants to realize it’s not me, it’s the TVs.
- The other moms stroll in. Either they are insanely late or they are there for the other class. Now… I may be wearing jeans if I’m lucky. But aside from my 2 fellow yoga panters, everyone else is dressed like they’ve come from a Gap or Banana Republic fashion show. Complete with hair and makeup. Stop. Just stop right now. It’s 9 a.m. It’s Saturday. We all have 5-year olds and most of us also have toddlers. I know the biggest plans you have for the rest of today are a preschool birthday party, shopping for next week’s outfit at the Gap, and dinner at Friendly’s. (I know this because it’s all you talk about while you’re there.) I am not positive, but I am fairly certain most of them don’t work.
- The kid finishes up, I get her shoes back on and we sneak on outta there. I’m forever grateful I only signed her up for one class – some of my fellow yoga panters are stuck there through 2 or 3 classes.
I’ve just spent that entire hour looking forward to soccer practice the next day where all the moms are just like me. They work like me, they live in houses the same size as mine, they drive practical sedans like me – seriously, the minivan stereotype doesn’t hold up at our soccer practices – and they’re dressed for the Old Navy runway if they’re lucky. Just like me. We have a great time every Sunday.
Nothing against all you dance moms out there – I’m sure there are a million of you who I’d have a great time with. Your kid just isn’t in my kid’s dance class and I’m just not a dance mom.
Soccer momming it FTW.