dance mom

Weird Obsession

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Today I forgot soap at the grocery, so I stopped at a little place on my way home. Soap, I only needed soap. A quick run for soap turned into 2 kids needing to use the bathroom, 1 kid doing Karate Kid crane moves in the bathroom, a request for fake press-on nails and a hair net, and their weird obsession…plungers.

Every time we go down the cleaning aisle, my kids lose their minds. Straight up laughing until they snort as they plunge the floor. Except for today. Lydia actually plunged her sister’s head. Yep, her little sister’s head.

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I can now add, “Stop plunging your sister’s head!” to my list of things I never thought I would say. Now let’s all say a prayer that the plunger was brand new and never used for it’s true purpose.

Hot Mess Mom

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As I was trying to get the girls ready for dance carpool and myself ready for CrossFit, I walked in to find Vivian drawing…completely naked. Rushing around, I asked her to bring me her tights so I could help. As she took her sweet time getting to me, I informed her that, “I will not be late because you won’t cooperate.”

She threw her tights to me and said, “Well look at you mom! Late, coordinate, you rhymed!  Haha! Late, coordinate, great. I rhymed, too.”

I put her tights on and said, “I’m leaving. Hurry up or your daddy will leave you.” It didn’t even phase her… If you ever see me and I am clearly the frazzled hot mess mom, you can assume that Vivian is involved.

redefine in press

A Letter to my Dog

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Dear Ollie Augustus,

Last week was pretty rough. Between doctor visits for Sofia and the usual mischief, I was a bit exhausted. I mean seriously, I even got an empty fortune cookie on Friday. A fortune-less fortune cookie, not the best way to finish an already festive week. I was over it all and decided to go home and let the girls binge-watch Disney Junior while I divided my hostas. I finished my evening with a glass of wine, a beautiful sunset, and you. As you sat there, loyal and quiet, I finally realized why people own dogs.

At 1:30 in the morning I woke up to you, barking incessantly at a raccoon, while Lawrence yelled at you to be quiet and get in the house. I came downstairs and yelled every command we had ever worked on together. Nothing. You just barked and barked as I yelled like a crazy woman in my cheetah pajamas for you to come in the house while Lawrence went to get a flashlight. We quickly realized that the raccoon was big enough to win the fight you were provoking, so Lawrence went for his gun.

As he fired in the air like Yosemite Sam in boxer shorts, you finally decided to stop barking and come into the house. Finding the girls at the top of the stairs, I realized we may have startled our neighbors as well. Messaging my neighbors that we were firing guns at 1:30 am is not my idea of fun on a Friday night, but having the cops called is certainly not any better. I finally got the girls back to sleep, but I tossed and turned until my alarm went off at 6:00.

That’s right, 6:00 am on a Saturday to get dance shoes clean, all 9 dace costumes packed, style hair, and apply make up for dance picture day. I left my house at 8:30 am and returned at 8:30 pm, sleep deprived. You managed to stay out of trouble…until Sunday.

I mean seriously, coming home from church to find you covered in cow poop is yet again, not my idea of fun. If anyone drove by my house, they saw me in my navy dress with fluorescent sneakers and hot pink dish gloves, hosing you down and bathing you in the front yard. Thanks for that buddy.

P.S.  You are the first dog I have ever owned, and you may very well be the last. I have invested far too much time and money to get rid of you, and like the girls, your cuteness redeems you.

P.S.  You are the first dog I have ever owned, and you may very well be the last. Much like the girls, your cuteness redeems you.

I licked the windows!

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So, I have 3 girls.  They can hold their own with the boys and love sports, but they are also girlie girls.  Translation, I am a dance mom and my girls take every dance class available.  For real, the studio offers an “unlimited class rate” and that’s how we roll.  Dancing Machines

We switched studios this year and my girls were nervous, so we set up a time to meet the owner and check out the studio.  They instantly felt at home and comfortable with Ms. Shelley.  So at home that Vivian licked the dance floor. That’s right, after a bunch of sweaty kids left their summer dance bootcamp, my 4 year old licked the floor.  She also attempted to lick Ms. Shelley, which brings me back to being comfortable thing.

I am at the studio 3 nights a week for 2 to 4 hours a night. (I told you, dance mom.) Vivian only goes on Tuesday night, but she makes her presence known on that one night.  She walks in, smacks Ms. Shelley on the rear and says hello.  Ms. Shelley doesn’t even need to look, she knows it’s my kid.

I have “that kid.”  You know, the one that leaves class to go potty and as I ask her if she is behaving she replies, “Yep, I didn’t lick the windows.”  Um, what?! Why did you mention that? “I licked the windows last week!”

Getting ready for their recital with their little cousin. Yep, "that kid" is on the left.

Getting ready for their recital with their little cousin. Yep, “that kid” is on the left.