Let's Not Make Music

Tonight at FPAC's Les Mis auditions, I re-connected with M and H's music teacher when they were just babes (this was obviously before we taught kiddos that young at FSPA.)  Miss Chrissy was adorable then and still is now.  Tonight, when I saw her, she looked familiar but I couldn't figure out how I knew her.  Thankfully, she recognized me and helped me put two and two together.  I told her that her ears must have burning recently, as I was just telling someone how H and M were THE poster children for how NOT to behave in a music class.  OMG - they were awful.  She said that she didn't remember that about them.  Miss Chrissy lies.  Let's reminisce, shall we?

They were maybe two.  Adorable.  Little itty bitties.  Coordinated outfits (sort of like the Mandrell sisters).  Massive heads of hair.  Ponytails on the tip tops of their heads.  Chubby cheeks.  Little voices (when they tried to say words.)  BIG voices (when they cried).  The. Entire. Time. In. Miss. Chrissy's. Class. 

It was a "mommy and me"-type class.  Truthfully, not my cup of tea, but I understand why some folks like that set-up.   I sat RIGHT next to them.  For the entire class.  They couldn't have POSSIBLY sat any closer to me and yet they never stopped crying. From the moment we walked in until the moment we left.

Every mom and EVERY OTHER CHILD in the class thoroughly enjoyed every moment of Miss Chrissy. How could they not?  The class was filled with laughing children, big drums, scarves, smiles, triangles, puppets, guitars and hoola-hoops.  And my two loser children. Crying.  Non-stop. We'd get up from the floor at times and walk around the room and such while singing some song - you know the kind.  They'd cling on to my leg and start to sweat they were so upset.  Before I knew it, I was sweating too.  It was mid-December.  I couldn't ignore them, these appendages off my leg and yet, I tried to imagine they weren't there. I tried to imagine none of us were there.  It was painful. I am pretty darn sure that the other moms in the class cringed when we walked in each week. (You know the look.  The one you get when you're walking on to an airplane with your whooping cough child.)  They surely hoped that we'd be absent. And yet - I was determined to make it work. 

I was "that mom" who (even though you were not allowed to bring food in to the room) snuck them fruit snacks from my pocket an attempt to shut them up.  I was "that mom" who bribed them during every car ride to class.  Each week, I thought I got through to them and each week, I was wrong.  The bribes didn't work.  Nothing worked.  Absolutely nothing.  Each week, as we took off our shoes, they'd turn in to exorcist toddlers.

I don't even remember if they EVER learned to like the class.  And it pained me.  It was so not because of the class.  The class was just fine.  It was my children that sucked.  Yes.  There I said it.  They sucked.

Thankfully, they have turned themselves around.  I think we're on the upside now.

I will definitely have to tease them about this tomorrow.  They deserve it.