A Never-Ending Expense

There should be a sign at the dance studio that reads "Please surrender limbs for payment" because this little hobby is costing me an arm and a leg. Make that an arm and a leg times two. When I signed the girls up for dance lessons it was with the false misunderstanding that the only money I would be forking out would be for the monthly tuition.

Wrong.

If you want your child, make that children, to participate in the recital at the end of the year, you must fork out the recital fee that is not included in the aforementioned monthly tuition. Said recital fee covers the cost of costumes, rental of the facility, and liability insurance, just in case we crazy dance mothers go wild and trash the auditorium. The following items are not included in the recital fee: tights, tickets for we crazy dance mothers and fathers and every single relative in the family over the age of 3, trophies, Olympic-style dance medals, recital t-shirts, professional portraits, and video of the performance. Oh, and you can have your child's hair professionally styled at a local salon, too. We opted out of that one.

Excessive? A bit.

Someone once described the roller coaster of parenthood as the highest highs and the lowest lows. Today, watching my girls dance on stage, was one of those highs. Seeing smiling Kate wave to the audience when the curtain opened, dancing in sync with her classmates, Annie executing multiple ballerina twirls without toppling over, putting her heart and soul into her routine. These are the moments that make my heart sing.

Worth it? Every. single. penny.

Lies, Lies, Lies

After the trauma of birthing a large baby, I took comfort in a comment I heard from everyone: Bigger babies sleep through the night sooner. I heard this little nugget of wisdom so many times I thought it was a irrefutable fact. Four months into this baby thing I can now say with confidence: You are all liars.

Bigger babies have bigger appetites and need to spend more time eating and less time sleeping is more accurate.

Little Fella wakes at least once, sometimes twice, during the night. He's not just hungry, he's ravenous. Now I'm hearing from those same people: Let him cry it out. He's big enough. He doesn't need to eat. Sounds great, but I don't think crying it out makes hunger go away.

So, here I am, four months into this baby thing, not sleeping much and lugging around an 18 pound giant baby. At this rate, I'm going to lose my mind from the lack of sleep, become addicted to caffeine, and need some serious physical therapy to correct the damage in my muscles and tendons.

Now, I'm off to pour my third cup of coffee for the day.