These girls of mine, I find them challenging. I am not sure I express that here very often. That is possibly because I am up for the challenge and grateful for it. I must admit though that I find my boys to be slightly (only slightly) more easygoing and easier to get along with. It is rare that I have to use a phrase such as “get a hold of yourself!”with any of my boys (the phrases they hear are “stop fighting” and “go outside.”) I confess that I have said that to Larkspur on more than one occasion. When she is kicking the drama up a notch I become a bit paralyzed and sometimes even a little horrified. My first impulse is to hide. My second is to throw around useless phrases such as the above mentioned one. I try not to feed the drama in any way. I am holding on to the hope that if I don’t give in to whatever is causing the wailing, crying, etc. (oftentimes a denied request) that eventually it will subside. Yes, eventually, like one day when the girls are grown, right? Clearly I am delusional if I am thinking that things will calm down anytime soon. I remember myself as a teen, and so does my mom.
I’m getting ahead of myself though. Larkspur is five, not fifteen. Beatrix is thirteen. No, I mean she’s almost three.
I am not the best at “girly” stuff. That is possibly why both girls seem to always have messy hair. I promise that I do brush it at least once per day (admittedly that once is often times after their baths, just before bed.) When I do try to give them “styles” they fight and cry. Larkspur especially. She is a walking hair disaster, and I don’t see that changing any time soon. Hair type does come into play, ours being the unfortunate tends to look messy type, but I know that there are moms out there who given my girls and their hair, would have them looking awesome and somehow prevent Beatrix from trimming hers periodically.
Not too long ago the inevitable (I am assuming?) requests for ballet lessons began on Larkspur’s part. I have no idea where this came from. Are girls born with this desire to learn ballet? Is it just the outfits that call their names? I remember taking a handful of ballet lessons myself, only because my sister Abby quit and there were paid for lessons that my parents wanted to fill and I guess they somehow convinced me to take them. It wasn’t my thing.
But back to my girls and the very small pang I would feel when Larkspur would try to “teach” Beatrix some ballet. I am not sure what experience she was drawing on to give Beatrix these “lessons.” (We do have an Angelina Ballerina book) The dancing didn’t look like ballet to me, but what do I know?
I did know that ballet lessons weren’t actually in Larkspur’s near future. The budget (and my driving around time) is sort of maxed and bigger kids get priority in this department. Sorry if that sounds terrible, but one day she’ll be one of those big kids too.
I said “did” though because everything changed in Larkspur and Beatrix’s favor.
My good friend Lori emailed that she was starting a casual ballet class at her home once a week at a very affordable rate, and would we be interested?
Oh yeah, bouncing off the walls and shouting with glee, interested (I’m talking about Lark and Bea, not me, although I was pretty darn grateful at the offer. Let it be known that I love Lori.)
With my cat sitting money in my pocket, I took my two messy haired little girls on a field trip to the Dancer’s Wardrobe (aka the little girl’s dream come true store complete with adorable small dog.) I walked through that purple door and said “help, I need ballet stuff!” and soon exchanged my little wad of cash for adorable pink shoes, leotards, tights, and two very happy little girls.
I think that my girls are practicing “real” ballet now and they are also requesting tap shoes. Oh dear. Do I want to go there?
I have to say though, the whole thing is pretty sweet. I do so love these dramatic little girls of mine. They drive me absolutely insane, but it’s a good insane. There is such a thing you know.
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