Crazy Thursday

Thursdays around here are crazy. My carpool mate and I have kids who happen to belong at most of the same places at the same time. For this we have "The Schedule", a complex but elegant arrangement of destinations that both rotate and alternate depending on the week. Should something happen to one of us and anyone else have to implement "The Schedule", I'm certain that chaos would ensue, sending 4-year olds to kindergarten or boys to ballet (not that my son would object!). Kids would be spending the night at school, if they ever got there in the first place.

On Thursdays "The Schedule" dictates that we drive our sons to kindergarten in the morning, then take our leotard clad daughters to ballet.

Our ballet studio looks decidedly unlike the ones in the movies. It's pretty much a pole barn, with a 12'X16' waiting room full of kitschy dance memorabilia and 10 chairs meant to seat about 12 moms, 1 dad, and a bunch of wiggly toddlers, including mine. There we sit, invading each other's personal space, talking about our kids, and catching occasional glimpses of our girls on a grainy video feed coming from inside the classroom. We manage all this while attempting to keep the babies under control. Cheerios are my method of choice, although with so many moms in close quarters, there is also plenty of nurturing going around.

Near the end of class, the population of this tiny room triples, with the arrival of the next class combined with the return of our girls. I often wonder what the fire marshal would have to say about this situation. Shoes are flying everywhere and I'm always amazed when we emerge with all of our personal belongings intact. Being a ballet mom is not for the claustrophobic.


After ballet, we have just enough time to jam our girls into their school clothes and give them a bite to eat before going to pick up the boys from kindergarten. Then, after approximately 1/2 hour at home it's time to drive our girls back to preschool. By 3:00, all of us are completely exhausted. My 4-year old often falls apart on the way home, overtired from so many hours of sustained self-control.

Why do we put ourselves through this? The short answer is that it seemed like a good idea last summer. My son has blossomed from 2 years under a great preschool teacher who in the mornings changes into a kindergarten teacher. We wanted my daughter to benefit from her excellence while allowing my son to continue with her in kindergarten. It has been a great school year for both kids. I've enjoyed my one-on-one time (plus baby) with each while the other is at school. Would I make the same choice again? Probably.

And ballet in a pole barn? At this age, dance doesn't need to be refined or elegant. Indeed it can't be. When my daughter arrives wearing her tulle tutu, tiara, and purple and pink striped tights, her 60+ year-old teacher greets her wearing an outfit of the same style. She is magical. And for 45 minutes each Thursday they are all princesses together.