Tag Archives: gymnastics

Groovy Hippie Guy Plays A Tune

So, gymnastics Friday. Didn’t see much of the Track Mommies, which is always nice. Gigi’s mom and I WERE treated to a little chamber music, however.

First a little background. There’s the main floor and the observation deck. Most parents choose to sit on the main floor. Gigi’s mom and I, along with a few other moms, always sit up on the observation deck. There’s one groovy hippie guy who’s up there each time as well, always in the background with his older daughter. They rarely interact with other parents, choosing instead to keep to themselves, sitting on the floor playing backgammon, messing with tools spread out on newspaper, or doing some random odd thing.

Friday he was … PLAYING THE CELLO.

BADLY.

In a small space. More importantly, in a small PUBLIC space. Apparently completely oblivious of his surroundings.

It’s not like it would make a difference if he were playing WELL. The point is, who does this??

The instrument was smaller, so I’m guessing it was his daughter’s. Maybe he was giving her lessons? Which is weird ’cause he sounded like an eight-year-old himself.

I was SO bummed I didn’t bring my camera. It was such a bizarre scene, I totally would have taken a photo. I’ll do my best to reinact …

So, he was all

And his daughter was all

And we were all

And then Bobo showed up. My dad knows no difference between “indoor voice” and “outdoor voice.” He sat down, looked at Groovy Hippie Guy behind us and

he was all

Can’t take him anywhere. No, seriously.

I have to remember to bring my camera each week to record GHG’s activities. I just don’t know how to get away with it.

I’m on a mission.

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Filed under Music Piece

The Dragon and the Track Mommies

mpdragon.jpgOnce again, Friday morning found us screaming to gymnastics, racing against the clock. Why I can never seem to get it together is a mystery.

I watched in the rearview mirror as MP, sitting in her carseat, waived to a homeless man holding a ‘God Bless’ sign (“Mommy! We forgot to give him money!”), blissfully unaware that we were, yes, late again.

Seven minutes later, and we’re running through the gym’s double doors, bursting into a class already in progress.

The Track Mommies turn to look, in unison.

The Track Mommies are everything I am not. The Track Mommies have it together. The Track Mommies are on time. She of the salon tan and designer track suit. Of the mani and the pedi and the blinding diamond ring signifying the perfect marriage to a successful provider. She of the perfectly coiffed hair – pulled tightly into a low pony to give the illusion of ‘sporty’ low maintenance.

The Track Mommies quiet as we quickly shuffle to MP’s cubby. I feel their eyes on our backs – me, freshly showered with wet hair peeking from beneath a ball cap, and MP … oh yes … in a dragon costume. Did I forget to mention this?

After peeling the endless layers atop her unitard, MP gleefully ran to join her group. I walked back to the parents area, and settled into a good vantage point. (Perhaps I’m old fashioned, but I actually ENJOY watching my child crabwalk and sommersault …) The Track Mommies, meanwhile, have turned back to their conversations, their cell phones and their lattes.

I can only wonder what truly goes on in the lives of the Track Mommies. I know all too well, looks can be (and in my experience, usually are) deceiving. As I watch MP from my perch – dancing around and looking like she’ll pee her pants any second – I can’t help but be proud of our little party of two. And I silently pledge to let her wear that goofy dragon suit whenever and wherever she wants.

And to never, ever buy her a track suit.

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Who Needs a Library Card?

Friday is Gymnastics Day.

Gymnastics and Errand Day.

Gymnastics, Errand and (ugh) McDonald’s PlayLand with MaggiePie’s Best Friend Day.

And then, after all that, if a major meltdown hasn’t occurred, and she hasn’t fallen fast asleep in her carseat…

Movie Store Day for Mommy’s Friday night entertainment! (Jealous much?)

So, as is tradition, today after gymnastics, PlayLand, and a gallon of Purell, we made our way to the almighty Costco. Mecca.

We like to make an event of it. After MP proudly flashes our card to a greeter, we take care of the first order of business, wheeling DIRECTLY, do not pass go, to the kids books. Yay! The Costco Free Library!

MP knows the drill – she picks out two or three books with the understanding they will be carefully read and returned before we check out. Cheap, you say? Why, yeesss.

It isn’t that I wouldn’t actually buy MP a book. Books are pretty high up there on my list of most treasured material possessions. It’s that:

a. She already has more books than most adults.
b. I want her to understand that she doesn’t get something every time we go to the grocery store, or the book store, or the toy store. That most of the time, we just look. I’m happy to report, it’s worked (for the most part).
c. She’s trained well. MP knows to be careful with the page turning, and not handle with sticky hands. (After all, eventually, someone is actually going to pay for this.)
d. Most importantly (you all know where I’m going with this) … having her occupied — not dealing with the near tearful, “I wanna help!” “Can I push the cart?” “I’m huuunngry” — is something you can’t put a price on. (Good, huh?)

Once she’s outfitted with a few reads (NO sticker books – this is important), her only concern is finding all “the ladies.” You know … THE LADIES. Grandmotherly women in hairnets, offering up tasty afternoon snacks to all good boys and girls. And maybe, if she’s lucky, MP and I will end the excursion by sharing a $1.50 Costco Meal Deal for lunch.

Mama lives large.

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