Tutu trouble

Yesterday, Grace's big day finally came - her first ever day of ballet. I had been excited about sending her in a sweet little pink tutu, but not as excited as she was about wearing one. But then last week a letter came saying that the kids can't wear skirts to class because it restricts their movement or something. So no skirt = no tutu. Seems silly to me, but alright.

Can you wear a leotard without a tutu? I have no idea because I know nothing about these things. I decided to just send her in leggings and a matching tee and explained to her that skirts weren't allowed. She handled the news rather well. Her head didn't even spin in circles or anything.

Here's a (horrible) picture of what she looked like on her very first day of ballet. She looks like she could be anywhere. Bah. Oh well. She was still super excited and that's what really matters.

But then then right after I snapped the picture I looked up the stairs and saw a swarm of tiny little tutus. What's up with that? Do tutus not count as skirts???

"You actually listened to the letter? Oh how funny."

There was only one other little girl who was wearing regular clothes. How awkward. And of course Grace had some things to say about all this. How even more awkward.

"Uh-oh, she's wearing a skirt!!! We're not supposed to wear skirts!!" and "How come they can wear ballerina costumes??" Things like that. She took it well, but was confused. Poor kid. And poor me too, because loud little voices echo in stairwells.

It wasn't really a huge deal, just embarrassing. It doesn't take much for me to feel out of place. She seemed a little disappointed that she wasn't wearing her ballet gear like them, but still had a great time and didn't want to leave. Next week she's wearing her tutu and leotard for sure. See ya, leggings!

But you know, I don't really like her First Day of Ballet Picture, so let's just pretend like this is it instead:

Also, let's pretend like she's wearing actual ballet slippers instead of pajama ones that are too small. And while we're using our imaginations, let's pretend like she's in a big ballet studio with shiny wood floors and mirrored walls.

There. Much better.

Do you see what I see?

Last week was Grace's preschool Christmas program. It was her first ever Christmas program so it was kind of a big deal. Some family came from out of town, I dug out the camcorder, and we spent too much money on a dress she would wear one time. So okay. It really was a big deal.

It sounded like it was a really adorable little show. I can't be too sure though, because most of what I saw looked something like this:

Bigstock

Drat the luck on that one. Oh, and to the guy in front of me who was leaning forward as far as he could while holding his camera in the air - thanks buddy. There is a lady in the 10 items or less line with a cart full of groceries and a bag full of coupons just waiting for you to get stuck behind her. When all you have is a box of ice cream.

Bringing the camcorder was a huge waste because of the sheer amount of heads in the way. Apparently preschool Christmas programs are a big fat deal to everyone else on the planet too. And I guess the time I spent digging around for an old Hi8 tape wasn't so silly after all. But the fact that we still use Hi8 tapes? Yeah, that may be a little silly. Oh well, at least we got to see the side of her face a few times. I was able to convince her to sing one of the songs for us later though, and I even got a video. With my fancy shmancy digital camera, yes sir.

Cribs and toddlers and twins, oh my!

This sappy post is brought to you by Grace. It's all her fault. So blame her.

Now that we've got that straightened out, here goes. Last week Hubby and I finally decided to fork over the cash for a twin bed for Grace. She's a little over four now, and the toddler bed just really needed to go. So we went out to buy her a new one and she. was. thrilled. She scurried from bed to bed, professing her undying love for each one. The more excited this child gets, the louder she gets, and the squeakier her speech becomes. She becomes a tiny bouncing blur of loud. We don't pretend like we don't know her even though it would probably be understandable.

Finally we settled on this one:

The nursery-like decor on the wall? Yeah, I'm a rip the band-aid off slow kind of girl. 

This is where it becomes Grace's fault. I was doing just fine with her being in a "real" regular type bed, which is awesome for me because I'm overly sentimental. I was proud of myself because I really am rather pathetic. But then on the third night of her having it, I was stupid and asked her a question when I tucked her in.

"Grace, how about you just stay little forever. Okay?" 

This wasn't supposed to be a serious question. I was being silly. And I was expecting for her to agree to this. She has no grasp of not being a child forever, right? She doesn't really get that she won't always be three feet tall...right?

Wrong. Instead she got very serious and said, "no...I just gotta grow up."

Why does she have to be so literal? Why does she have to be so realistic? Why does she have to understand things so well? It was the way she said it that got to me. It was spoken very kindly and almost apologetic, like she was trying to let me down easy. Of course I know she's going to grow up, but does she have to?

Then Insanely Overly Sentimental Krisi came out to play. That chick ticks me off. I started thinking about the other places Grace has slept and how big she's gotten. Once you start reminiscing it's hard to stop. Or maybe that's just me. 

Her first bed was a bassinet. 

Don't let her fool you. She hated this thing.

She could not stand to sleep on her back so the bassinet was only used for about a week. She woke up like every ninety seconds and it was pure torture for all of us. The only way she liked to sleep was in her swing, and it didn't even matter if she was actually swinging or not. The girl just did not like to lay flat. The bassinet was a gift, so we felt bad that it hardly got used. But that guilt subsided when we started to feel human again. As human as parents of a newborn can feel, anyway. As soon as we let her sleep in it she slept like a rock.  

God bless Graco.

Her nights were spent in the swing until she was nearly five months old. One day she just up and decided that sleeping on her back was pretty cool. But before she would sleep in her giant expensive play gym  crib, she would only lay in it to look up at her mobile. Otherwise, she wanted nothing to do with it. 

"These people actually thought I would sleep in this thing. Ha."

When she reached toddlerhood she got a toddler bed, and neither she or I took that very well. But Hubby wasn't at all phased by the fact that the last remaining piece of her babyhood kicked the bucket when he took her crib down. No, he was just all whatever about it. But he's a man and men are strange. 

Grace didn't mourn the loss of her crib for too long.

And now in its spot sits the biggest twin bed ever. Seriously, the thing is a beast. This is the last bed we will ever buy her. If she ever wants a different one she can just buy it herself because good gosh. Regular beds are stupid expensive. 

Get comfortable kid. You're stuck with this one.