Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Ants in Their Pants

It's that time again... what activities do we sign the girls up for?

Kyra's already dropping giant mammoth sized hints about wanting to get back on the ice in the forms of, "Mommy!  Look at this spiral!  Am I arching my back right?"  and "Mommy!  Watch this!  I'm going to do this in my next performance!"

She's also going on and on about how well she can tap dance and taps her way from one end of our government issue stick and peel tile floors to the other.

Lydia's asking when she gets to play soccer again because, "It my favorite!  And I wuuuuuv to KICK the ball and I WIN!" 

However, there are also a couple of karate schools within spitting distance.  I know both girls would love it.  Mainly because they overheard me mention it to Jeremy last week and began jumping up and down chanting their excitement for doing karate.

I know whatever I sign one girl up for, I'll have to sign the other one up, too.

If Lydia saw Kyra on the ice, she'd want to join.  If Kyra watched Lydia running around the soccer field, she'd be dying to get in on the fun.

The problems lie in what to pick.  The ice rink is at least a half hour away, maybe more.  And their website gives no information on figure skating.  If only they were interested in hockey...

The dance schools around here want the kids to do ballet, regardless.  Kyra wants to tap, and only tap.

And I haven't seen hide nor hair of a soccer sign up sheet.  I'm sure there is, but in the last two weeks we've been here, nothing blatantly obvious has surfaced.

 Part of me wanted to take the summer off from everything, all activities.  The girls, however, seem to have other ideas.  And are driving me crazy with them.

Why?  Why did I have to give birth to two social butterflies who LOVE organized activities?  Is it too much to ask for at least some hermit like tendencies?  Instead I get, "When can we...." "I want to..." "Can I sign up for..."

I can honestly tell you, if I were living through my children, they'd be hunkered down on the couch with the blinds drawn shut and a good book in hand, not running from one social situation to another.

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