Monthly Archives: March 2013

Dance Class

Grace has started going to a little disco dance class. She loves dancing. And it bothers me jut a tiny bit.
I did dancing when I was little but I don’t really remember liking it all that much. Being a pasty ginger and an outright tomboy, it was a world I never really felt I fitted into. Things came to a head one day when we were told we had to make up our own routine to music of our choice and perform it to the rest of the group. I remember it clearly: watching each of my little dancy friends as they twirled and hair flicked to Kylie Minougue or Belinda Carlailse, then watching their faces turn to horror as I karate chopped and commando rolled my way through the theme tune from the A Team.
No one spoke to me afterwards.
I didn’t go back.
With this in mind I kind of assumed that Grace wouldn’t be inclined to dance either, but as is so often the way with our offspring – I got it wrong! Her nursery run a little dance class on a Friday afternoon and she loves it. We have a dance game on the wii and guess what?  She loves it. So, we tried her out at this local group for under 5s . . . Yup . . . She loves it. She’s little enough that it’s fun and not competitive. She jumps and “side together side clap”s with gusto and doesn’t care that she’s the only one in a Rolling Stones T-shirt and messy hair. Every week, I can’t help but inwardly wince at the array of little girls in their elaborately French-plaited hair, sequined tops and jazz shoes and inwardly hope that Grace doesn’t get too sucked in. Which to be fair, is ridiculous, because the girls that attend, the dance teachers, and the other mums are genuinely lovely, kind and a million miles from the bitchy world I remember as a little girl. This is totally my hang up: I get that, and I know it’s important to let her try the things she enjoys properly. It’s also good to have a discipline and get exercise.
I think what really bothers me is that she’ll be part of a world I don’t really “get” and want me to be like the other mummy’s – glamorous Mummies that Know the steps and practice with them.
Ahhh well. I guess I can “side together side clap” – it just might have to be to the Stone Roses and not Justin Bieber.
Tell me it’ll all be ok . . . . That she’ll still be my little Gibby and not the next Britney wanna-be . . .?

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Last years post still says it all . . .

waterbirthplease

Dear Mum,

I’ve realised today that I’ve been ignoring Mother’s day. Turning a blind eye to it: pretending it isn’t there. You see, although I am a Mum, I miss having one.

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World Book Day Costume

It’s that time of year again! World book day approacheth . . . the day we are supposed to celebrate our love of literature by dressing our offspring as a book character, but usually cop out and get a pre-bought princess style dress or spiderman costume from the supermarket. And can you blame us? After all, we’re not all a whizz with a sewing machine, we don’t always have a whole lot of spare time, and an expert hand made costume really is no reflection on how much we read with our little ones.

But for those inclined – I thought I’d share our idea for this year. It honestly was super simple.

The Witch from “Room On The Broom” by Julia Donaldson.

Room on the broom

Gibby LOVES this book – and although her clever Grandma did manage to run up a purple skirt on the sewing machine, we did have one from a pre-bought Halloween costume on standby.

Any witchy costume would work for this – but the witch in the book has a red top, purple skirt, black cloak and hat. I made a brooch from painted cardboard with a hair grip  superglued  to the back , and cardboard buckles painted gold to stick onto her plimsoles. The key thing was the soft toys (cat, dog, bird and plastic bathroom-toy frog) unceremoniously elastic-banded onto the broomstick. Voila:

Room on the Broom      Room on the Broom    Room on broom costume

For extra finishing touches, we had a yellow ribbon bow in her hair, and a magic wand (art straw and coloured paper.) Honestly – pretty easy. And I have to say, SUPER cute watching her act out the story . . .

“The Witch tapped her broomstick and WOOSH . . . they were gone!”

(She never has been that princessy to be fair.)

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