The Three Bean Salad: When Everything Isn't Beautiful at the Ballet

My husband was out of town all last week. My mom was a huge help and we totally managed. The plan for the weekend was simple, the Ladies would be starting their new ballet class and then we would hang with the Wild Ones on Saturday. Sunday would probably be a lot of TV time until my husband got home, but I was well prepared for that.

We made a decision to sign the Ladies up at the Wild Woman's ballet studio. Even though it is a bit further from our house and we really liked our old ballet place, the new place has multiple studios and the Ladies could both take class at the same time. At our old place the Little Lady was going at 9:30 am and then the Lady was going at 11:30 am. It took up most of our morning and was a lot of back and forth. In all honesty, I am all for simplification at this point in my life, plus the Little Lady was very excited to be in a class with the Wild Woman.

Know who wasn't excited? The Lady.

I understand that change is hard for her, but every time ballet was mentioned during the week it turned into dramatics. She hates ballet, she doesn't want to go, she wanted to sign up for gymnastics, she doesn't like to dance. . . the list went on and on and on.

Friday night I was met with a bit of resistance as soon as I walked in the door from work. She was already whining about going. In an attempt to try to get organized and get everyone out of the house by 8:45 the next morning, I went looking for the ballet stuff. We have leotards and tights a plenty. At this studio there is a "dress code" for each class. The Little Lady would be pretty in pink while the Lady was supposed to wear a blue leotard and pink tights. Luckily we had a blue leotard. My sister was bringing some new ballet slippers that would fit the Lady that we won at the Wild Man's Christmas party at school and we would be set to go.

However, I couldn't find the ballet stuff. It had been in the same place for about six months. Finally, I found it spread on the bottom of the Ladies' closet and in general disarray. I got organized, packed the bag and listened to an increasing level of discord from the Lady that continued until I put her to bed.

I tried to talk it out, see what it was that was bothering her, but I did not give in and promise her anything. I did make mention that if she didn't want to actually participate she could watch, but from inside the studio, not outside where we would be watching the wonderful world of dance on closed captioned TV screens or through a one-way mirror.

She was not convinced. In fact, she took the time to draw me a picture of how she was feeling. I think art therapy is the way to go with this girl. . .

You have to love the X's.

Ever the perfectionist, the Lady made a second draft with the correct spelling of ballet and a much more colorful presentation. I do love the giant frown on her face.

I get the point Lady.

So at 6:45 the next morning the Lady shows up at my bed already complaining about ballet. I let her know that we are going one way or the other because the Little Lady has class as well. For the next hour and a half, we battle. She comes downstairs smirking because she "hid" the ballet slippers. Mind you, these weren't even her slippers they were the Little Lady's and she wasn't so sinister that she didn't immediately tell me that they were in her sock drawer.

The Little Lady was dressed and ready to go in her full-on pink. QT was dressed and ready to go in his Spiderman shirt and the Lady eventually got dressed, but in leggings and a t-shirt. I did manage to get them all in the car and we were the first ones at the studio at 9:15. I was pretty impressed with myself.

Know what else was at the studio? A wide array of ballet leotards, tights and tutus. I was able to ~~bribe~~ convince the Lady that maybe a new light blue leotard would be nice. I was also not 100% sure the blue leotard we had would still fit her. $28 for a leotard I wasn't even sure she would be wearing more than once? Sure. $9 for a pair of pink tights? You betcha.

I was finally able to dress the Lady and get her in the vicinity of the studio. We tried walking in once. We tried walking in twice. Finally, the dance teacher came out and escorted her in. I watched like an anxious dance mom from the window and she finally started to participate.

When her class ended, we bought a new blue tutu. We bought a matching blue hair scrunchy from the dollar bin. She was energized, invigorated and full of love once again for the ballet.

I was also told that I had to order her "Hot Buns," which are a product she saw on TV that helps create the perfect bunhead. Putting in my order now.

So after almost a full week of complaining, I had a girl who wouldn't take off her leotard, who insisted on dancing around my sister's house for the rest of the afternoon, who woke up on Sunday morning and asked to put on her ballet outfit and who is constantly hounding me for the "Hot Buns."