We've been going to a lot of football practice lately. A lot. Three times a week a lot plus gameday. And Lucy literally puts herself between us and Max to block the view. "Pay Attention to ME! ME! ME! Who cares that Max just threw that touchdown pass. Look, I can READ!" That's great. Ricardo and I are incessantly begging her to let us watch Max. It's his time.
So, Lucy, who opted to live free, with no commitments, and all, is bursting at the seams for attention that already we give her, just not at a practice. She decides maybe she should sign up for dance. I tell her I'll look into it, but that they've already started, and I don't know when they let kids into the classes and all.
Last year, I made her do ballet. But this year, I tell her, it has a lot to do with our schedule, but she can do jazz or hip hop if she wants. Ultimately it's going to have to do with our schedule. Because Max has football on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays and games on Sunday. I teach class on Tuesday nights. Ricardo takes a class on Wednesday night. This could get interesting.
Lucy suggests interest in some other type of dance classes but ultimately decides she wants to take ballet again with the same dance instructor she had last year. That speaks bounds to me. Me and the dance instructor don't always agree, but she was a great instructor for the kids. And it turns out, we had a lot more in common than I'd originally thought. Like, we both love my girl and all! I hope we can do it.
I drop by the dance studio on the way home from teaching one day. There's no kids there yet, and two very young - possibly interns - ladies working the desk. I plead my case and ask if I can get her into a class. They say yes, depending on the class and if it's full or not and then they show me the schedule. I hold my breath because I know their schedule and my schedule aligning up is a mere impossibility. And lo, the next level ballet class with the same instructor fits perfect into our schedule. Wait a second, it's the only class that works with our schedule. Great sign her up.
And that's when the two young ladies turned into Bill Lumbergh from Office Space, "Um, yeah, thaaaaat class is fulllllll."
Uggh. They suggest I put her on the waiting list, and so I do. And then they make the mistake of reassuring me with the fact that she's the only one on the waiting list so she'll probably get in.
Wait. She's the only one? Can't she just get into the class.
Girly Lumbergh says, "Um yeah, no we can't do thaaaaat."
Me: "Please?"
Lumbergh: "I'm sorry we can't do that. There's a limit on how many kids are in a room for space and the instructor."
And then I went into THAT Mom mode. You know. The one who flashes the smile and anything for her baby girl Mom. Yeah, I went there.
"Look, this is totally my fault that she's on the waiting list and not the class. She really wants to be in the class. She's real skinny. She won't take up much room. I'm sure she'll fit. Please, she really needs this and this is the only class that fits into our schedule, which by the way, also not her fault. I hate to be THAT mom but please, I'll do whatever it takes to get her in the class. Please. I promise she's tiny and she listens real well. Please. Please! Please?"
Lumbergh: "Um yeah, NO. Didn't you get the memo?"
Okay, she didn't say that memo part. But she did say no. I have a little talk with myself about always trying to get my way. And resolve to leave with Lucy on the waiting list. Dangit. Fine.
In the car, I realize, I could call later and get the non-lumbergh interns on the phone. I could call and ask to talk to someone in charge and beg her to let Lucy in. But I don't want to be THAT mom. So I don't do it. Until about a week goes by and I think, "Well, I'll just call and see how the waiting list is going."
So, I do. I call, I'm officially THAT mom. I get the exact person in charge I hope for. I explain my case, ask if there's any way I can get Lucy in that class. Well, as a matter of fact there is. She can ask the instructor and if the instructor says it's okay, then she can do it.
Sure enough Miss American Girl Doll says yes!
THAT Mom worked this time. But I'm going to have to remember to use my THAT Mom powers for only good selfless deeds, and not for my own. This use of my special powers of THAT Momness proved worthy.
I took Lucy to ballet this week, when she got in the car to go to ballet she questioned why Max wasn't going to her ballet class. It turns out, she didn't want to do ballet because it was fun. She wanted to do ballet so her brother would have to suffer through her classes, just like she does at football practice.
Well, that's a warm and fuzzy feeling. Making mommy turn into THAT mom for only purpose of vengeance. Nice.
I explained that she should be happy she's in the class for her, and not to punish her brother. She conceded and then went in to class. She is unmistakeably beautiful and graceful. I forgot how much fun it was to watch her dance.
Isn't she the MOST BEAUTIFUL Ballerina EVER!?
Yeah, I'm THAT Mom.
That's how I roll.
Song of the day: Skyline by the Courtyard Hounds
I heart Lucy.