"Mom, I love you more than...

...a really big rock." Or so Aria told me yesterday. "More than a mountain," she amended. That is a lot of love.

Ballet

Aria started ballet last week. Yay! She is very excited. When we took Aria out of preschool, we decided to take some of the money and spend it on classes for her. This only seemed fair. This summer Aria took swimming classes (the same one twice, to get her used to the water) and she loved them. The pool we take her to (Mt. Scott) didn't seem to have swim classes during September, so we decided to take off a month, and see what October brought. It turned out that October brought two classes. The summer classes had been half-an-hour a day, every day, for two weeks. During the fall, the swimming classes were mostly twice a week, for five weeks. So we signed her up for Tuesday and Thursday swimming clases.

The other class we signed her up for was ballet. I gave her the option of several different classes, and that's what she chose. No surprise there. She loves dancing around, and I think Zoe from Sesame Street--in her pink tutu--is her favorite character. The classes she takes are through the park bureau, and she's going to the Laurelhurst Dance Studio. A few weeks ago, mom and I went to The Leotard with Aria, and bought her a cute leotard with attached tutu.
Of course, we also bought her the ballet slippers, letting her choose the color of both. Mom had already called the studio and they said it was up to us what she wore. Everything was so cute on her! But too expensive to buy just for dress up. Will totally go back for their clearance items, though.

Last Monday afternoon, Mom and I took her to the studio for the first time. We walked in and around the wall that divides the entry from the studio, and saw the large expanse of dance floor. Carefully walking around it, we went into the back office where several other families were already gathered with their little girls. The class was for 3 to 6-year-olds, but I don't think there were actually any 3-year-olds there. In fact, the teacher seemed to already know most of the other girls from previous classes. We quickly changed Aria in her outfit, and the teacher let the girls run around daning with scarves until class was supposed to begin.

Mom and I had been a little slow to get our bearings, and thus all the chairs lining the floor were taken. The teacher--Miss Erika, I think--kindly informed us that there was more seating upstairs. I was a little disappointed that we wouldn't be right on the floor to see her (and concerned that she wouldn't know where we were) but the view was awesome from the balcony, and I liked the pictures I got, though without the flash many were blurry. But it was kind of a nice effect, especially when she was dancing with the scarves. She also quickly figured out where we were, and occasionally flashed up that brilliant smile of her's.

Back to the class. They are doing dances from the Nutcracker, with some kind of performance (I think) at the end. It lasts for eleven weeks, once a week, 45 minutes each time. I think the discipline will be good for Aria. And the teacher's really good and...strict (but in a good-natured, working with little kids way). At one point, she threatened to tie one girl's hands behind her back if she didn't stop playing with them. I think I like her.

So we have ten more weeks of Aria constantly asking for the Nutcracker to be played on iTunes so she can dance to it. Ten more weeks of coaching her on first position, en point and all the other ballet-esque words I can't pronounce when I read them in her books (but hopefully will be able to in ten weeks). I'm in mommy-of-a-little-girl heaven right now.

My Water Baby

Aria took swimming lessons when she was six months old. Really, it was mainly to get her use to the water, and Joe or I (or both of us) were in the pool with her at all times. It was the youngest the park bureau offered lessons. I meant to keep her in lessons, but with school and scheduling and, well, life, we never got around to it. It wasn't until mom and I took her to our timeshare in Long Beach and she spent most of her time in the pool that I got to thinking she could use the lessons again.

So I checked on the parks bureau website and found an appropriate class--pre-goldfish. We decided to have it after school, and signed her up for the 6-6:30 slot. The only evening time open didn't start for a few weeks, so in the intervening time, Joe and I decided to take her to the pool several times to get her used to it. The closest swimming pool to our house (and the one where she would be taking her swimming lessons) was Mt. Scott Community Center. So we went there one evening, after buying her two new suits from Freddy's 'cause we couldn't find her old one, only to discover, once again, that my child is full of contradictions.

First of all, I want to state that there were quite a few people at the pool. And Aria can be shy--really--especially with people she doesn't know well. But it still took her perhaps 10 minutes to fully get into the shallow end (and by shallow, I mean 1 foot deep) of the pool. And even then, she didn't want to get her hair wet. Well, I can't really blame her for that. I didn't want to get my hair wet, either. That first time, she stayed away from all things which sprayed water on people, as well as (and I thought this a very smart decision on my daughter's part) most areas in which the annoying, splashing, middle school boys were hanging out.

It wasn't until we had been in there about half-an-hour that we discovered my daughter's true joy: the water slide. Appearing to loom hundreds of feet into the air to a mother who's envisioning her often tentative daughter zooming down it alone and into the depths of the ocean-like pool below, the yellow slide had actually caught her attention from the beginning. But since she didn't even want to put her face in the water, I thought it unlikely that she would be happy with plunging into the water below the slide. So here's where Daddy comes in. Up the went together, while I waited at the bottom. Giggling, they came down with her in his lap, and then, at the last minute, held aloft so that she did indeed not get her face wet. She loved it. Again. And again. I think the count the first day was eight times on Daddy's lap. The next day I think they went down eleven.

So swim class is now over. We realized after those first few visits to the pol that Aria would do well with goggles, and we got her a set of three at Costco. They helped, but she till doesn't like getting her face wet. But she loves the songs. And I learned new things, like that you can't breath in through your nose while humming. So we're taking a few weeks off while my father is visiting, but we'll try to get her in the pool to practice. The teacher says she should be in the goldfish class again until she's more comfortable putting her face in the water. And she's already excited about having lessons again. Maybe I'll even manage the slide with her next time.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Aria's first bus ride

Aria had her first bus ride today! I think. Well, the first one she (or I, apparently) can remember. I know we took her on the Max when she was 10 days old (it was her technical due date, on Mother's Day, and we met a bunch of friends at Saturday Market for Cayleigh's birthday. And what gave birth to this little adventure was not her incessant (not really, but at times it felt like it) nagging to ride on a bus. It was the fact that come the Fall, Joe will have to take the bus to school downtown at PSU, so we were doing a trial run.

It's been a bit hot lately--by Portland standards, anyway--so I wanted to go before the heat really hit, and before nap time. So we set off around 1:00, after Aria was done helping Nonna garden. We walked down the gravel pathway at the end of our dead-end street, coming out near where Nonna works. The bus stop was not far away, and we had about a seven minute wait for it. Aria entertained us by singing Ms. Mary Mack. She just learned the song last weekend. When we finally got on the bus, Aria became fascinated by everything: the people on the bus, where we were sitting, what was outside the bus. When we went over the Ross Island Bridge, she sat up on her knees and looked out the window. She loves bridges these days. She was a very good girl, sitting next to me, talking about everything she saw. She kept being entertained by the bus "throwing"

We got downtown and Joe figured out where he had to go. By the time he had his bearings, I ended up with two very tired, hungry, and cranky people on my hands. When it comes to some aspects of food, Aria is totally her father's daughter. They both get irritated to the extreme when they need food. So I led them to this restaurant on the park blocks where I used to eat on occasion when I worked downtown. Joe and I had French Dips, Aria had a plain ham sandwich. Well, mostly she just ate the ham out of the middle, then nibbled on the bread. But this is how I know that they were both "shocking" from lack of food: about three minutes after the food arrived I stopped wanted to kill both of them. Of course, that could also be because I needed food. Whichever.

The trip home was hampered only because the bus was more crowded, and Aria was needing her nap. But she was equally excited, sitting next to Daddy and making funny faces to me across the aisle.

I consider this trip a success, and see further bus rides (many, if Aria has her way) in our future.

The Daddy vein

The other day, Aria, Joe and I were in the car. He was driving. And I still thought there was a good chance he was going to jump over the backseat and throttle her. Here's what happened.

It was one of the hot days we've been having recently. Our heat pump has been working admirably, and my migraines have been few. But still, just going from the house to the car seemed to take a massive amount of effort. We went to Office Depot to get some stuff to organize the mail. We walked in the store..and it was like walking through a veil of chilly goodness. I was almost cold...almost. We got what we were looking for, and Aria had been pretty good, so we agreed to buy her a treat: an insulated Hello Kitty lunchbox. Remember the good behavior I mentioned? It vanished as soon as we got to the cash register. She had a freak out because Daddy--whom she had given the lunchbox to a few moments earlier so she could play--put the lunchbox on the counter instead of her. I'm sure she was tired, and I know she was hungry, but still, it was rather extensive. We went out to the car with the fit still being thrown, doing our best to ignore it, as she wasn't attempting to hit us or break anything.

Move forward perhaps five minutes. Aria in the backseat, holding her new lunchbox. Joe and I up front, explaining our unhappiness at her behavior. One of us says that next time she gets a treat it will be for the entire trip. After all, I didn't want to take away something I had already given her, upon previously stated stipulations (that she be good in the store). It would not be fair, and she'd be unable to trust further deals we made with her. So I said that if she acted like this again, she wouldn't get another treat. And this is the statement that made Joe's Daddy vein (you know, the one in his forehead, near Fredrico*) begin to bulge in his forehead: "But I already got my treat." Her voice, so sweet and innocent. Joe couldn't even talk. I tried not to laugh. Definitely better outlined goals before the next outing-related treat.

*Fredrico is the name I have given to the face the appears in Joe's forehead when he's angry. It's awesome. Two slitty eyes and a mouth.