When mommy has a tantrum

I've debated over sharing this episode on the blog, but in the spirit of telling it like it is and let's be honest, getting a laugh, I've decided - why not?

So it was Tuesday, dance class day. Big A was relaxing on the couch while Little A napped. I started prepping her for what was to come. "Almost time for dance class!" I said brightly. "No, I'm too tired," she whined back. "No you're not, you'll be fine!" (still brightly). Patented Big A picklepuss face. "I'm.too.tired." She dug her heels in. But so did I.

"Okay fine," I said in a moment of (perceived) mommy-brilliance. "If you're too tired for dance, I guess you need a nap." Not the "n" word. Anything but that. "No, I don't WANT a nap," she screamed. Little A was stirring on the monitor. "Let's go up and get changed," I said. "NO, I'm not going," she screamed. "Fine then you're taking a nap." We continued this argument as we went upstairs and she FINALLY agreed to go to dance class. I got out her leotard and told her to come put in on.

Stomp. Attitude. Stomp. Picklepuss face. Stomp. She stomped her foot into the leotard and something in me snapped. "That's it!" I screamed. "You will NEVER dance again. Your dance career is OVER!!" I ripped the leotard off and left the room, slamming the door behind me. I was so mad I was shaking. I got Little A and took her downstairs. Big A was crying.

We got downstairs and sat on the couch. "Abby crying?" Little A asked. "Yup." I said. I started to cool down. The mintues ticked by. I'm 34 and she's 4, I thought to myself. I paid for these lessons. She's not getting her way. She's going to dance.

I ran back upstairs and swung her door open. "Get dressed, we're going to dance." She stared at me and did what I said. Smart girl.

We got to the Y, she took her dance class. She came skipping out to show me her rainbow sticker. "Mom, I got the pink rainbow, just like I wanted!" she screamed. We left the Y.

"Mom?" she said.

"Yes?"

"Can I keep taking dance classes forever?"

Cue me slamming my head into the steering wheel. "Sure honey, no problem."

(And let me also say that replaying myself screaming "You'll never dance again" is pretty much worth this whole stressful episode. Sometimes you just have to laugh at yourself.)