A Case of the Thursdays

I do not dread Mondays like most people. Mondays are AWESOME in my book. I get to send my kids to school after a weekend of togetherness. I get to go to the gym and choose between hip hop with Heather or CRT with Devon. I can choose to have lunch with friends at the cafe in my gym or sit at home and cuddle with my cute Papillon, Pierre. I have one ballet class later in the day of mostly good girls then I take my kids to religious education. That's another hour to myself!!! So as you see, Mondays are nothing to dread.

Fast forward three days and I get plagued by shallow breathing, excessive sweating, and night terrors. And this is BEFORE the day even begins. It's Ballet Thursday. Yup, 5 ballet classes in one day, all taught by yours truly. (Deep breath, Molly. I am done with my Thursday but regurgitating these memories is making me nauseous.) I have taught ballet classes to kids of varying ages starting as young as 3 years-old. I think this is pretty young to expect a child to listen to direction for 45 minutes. Some kids knock your socks off and are really, really good. The rest of them are enrolled in my class. I have had parents complain that there is "nothing out there for my two year-old in a good ballet class". Maybe you have a child prodigy who belongs on Oprah who can dance a pas de deux from Balanchine's Apollo. My guess is little Franchesca still wears diapers, is prone to raging temper tantrums if she is told "no", uses a pacifier, and "likes to do her own thing" when it comes to dancing. Here's what you need to enroll her in: DAYCARE. Then she can freestyle to Baby Bach and Elmo till she loses the paci, is peeing in the potty and not on my floor, and can listen to direction without being strapped in a high chair or stroller.

My itty bitties who are in Creative Movement are really not so bad. They are charming in their excitement and innocence. They aren't really trying to be naughty, they just get distracted. Except for Chiquita the Molester. She is my chubby little Spanish-speaking ballerina who grabs my ass and tits like they are Honey Baked hams. Get your paws off my cash and prizes, por favor. I don't know what sort of house you live in that "dance" means "let's touch Mommy's titties" but it ain't MY bag, baby. Next comes Ballet/Tumbling. Last week went on record as the Naughtiest Dance Class EVER because of 10 of my 13 little monsters. I had a nice sit-down, Sopranos-style, with the parents before class. Of course the three worst kids (cute but demonic) weren't there so their parents missed my polite rant about behavior. They all nodded and agreed that I should not have to put up with naughtiness. I warned them I would send their kids out of my class to "chill out" if they couldn't listen. No need to! The kids were pretty decent. Praise the Lord in Heaven....

Until 11:05am when my 4-6 year-old Pre-Ballet students hit the deck. The Lord took no mercy on my soul today. The record previously earned last week by Ballet/Tumbling was blown out of the fucking water, folks. It was like comparing that gold-medal Jamaican runner dude to a one-legged blind man. No contest. I witnessed head gyrating, in-your-face sassy bitch talk from a 5 year-old. (Think "Oh no you diiiinnnnnnn't!!") There was so much hanging from the barre I felt like I was at a concert where Cirque de Soleil opened up for Madonna. Barres are for balance, not for your little naughty monkey asses to swing from. Oh, you fell and landed on the sharp part in your left butt cheek??? Maybe you should listen to me and then I might feel sorry for you!!!!! Screaming, rolling on the floor, running, running, and more running ensued. I had one little girl lay like a dead raccoon in the middle of the floor because she was "tired" (lazy) and didn't want to dance. Well I suppose I either physically pick you UP and move you away from the kids who want to DANCE or you risk getting steam rolled. I really wanted to drop-kick her like a rotten potato.. I have one little girl, just ONE, who sat so patiently and did every single thing I expected of her. She is quite pretty and charming to boot. After class when I came out with steam blowing from my ears like Tom and Jerry, I declared that in my 5 years on teaching this was probably one of the worst behavior days I've ever had. There were sighs and awe. The mom with the little angel ballerina looked shocked (as she should be.) But I couldn't single her out in the shuffling of wide-eyed parents and kids begging for two stamps on their hands. You are lucky I don't whack you on the back of your tutu-ed little ASS. You are getting ONE snowflake stamp and will deal with it. I asked as calmly as possible for the parents to talk to their daughters so we would not have a repeat of today's class when we came back from Thanksgiving. I had ONE parent acknowledge their daughter's naughtiness and she made her sheepishly come up and apologize. You can bet your sweet ass I will be praying, BEGGING God that most of these little charmers don't want to do the spring concert with me. Unless I feel inspired to choreograph a sack of potatoes and the cast of a Maury Povich episode....