Last Wednesday Zafirah’s dance troupe had their very last practice session before their big performance on the Thursday.
We were to report to the dance hall at 1pm for an hour’s practice and to collect her costume.
Now being the middle of the school holidays, and a day where we had a hundred things on, I found myself preparing Zaf at record speed and wooshing out the door in a mad rush to arrive at rehearsal on time.
I only just managed to fling a top-up bottle and bib into the nappy bag as we flew out the door in hope it would satisfy Elijah and keep him content until I could feed him properly at home.
As MonsterSquad Dad pulled into a park out the front of the dance hall, I flung off my seat belt and instructed Zaf to pass baby Elijah to me while I grabbed the nappy bag.
We trotted up the stairs, baby, bag and all and walked into a room full of nervous and excited students.
It’s at this point that I will stop and try to explain my thoughts about ballet and dance mums.
I will be brutally honest here and suggest that I never quite feel like I fit in at the dance school. While there are some amazing mums that I have met there through the children dancing, there are many that leave me feeling somewhat inferior and not quite up to ‘dance etiquette’ scratch.
Maybe it’s just me, who knows, but I do often feel like I must put on my ‘proper personality’ whilst I am there. There seems to be a real stigma around perfection with some dancers….. just saying…. you know…
with the big old nappy bag weighing me down on one shoulder and a squirmy Elijah in my arms I shooed Zaf over to her group and grabbed a seat along the back of the room.
Once seated, I copped a decent whiff of what could be possibly the pongiest baby nappy I have ever had the pleasure of smelling.
Argh there was no way of disguising this stinky bum and with a few of the mums scrunching their noses up I decided that after the first practice song, I would have to go and change the boy.
Digging around my nappy bag could be compared to digging around in Mary Poppins’ bag. There seems to be an endless supply of ‘stuff’ that finds it’s way in there making the search for the bum changing essentials a moderately difficult task, especially with a wriggler in my arms.
First dig, nappy. Check.
Second dig, wipes. Check.
Third dig, nappy sacks. Check.
Upon a second whiff of the baby boy I decided he may even require a change of body suit too.
Fourth dig in the bag, WHAT THE F@&K???
Whilst rummaging around for the bodysuit I knew I had placed in the bag the day before, I came across a stowaway.
There before my eyes, in the middle of a dance lesson, where I am now doing my best to not laugh hysterically or die of embarrassment is one of little Miss ‘Dr.Doolittle’ Veruca’s friends.
A giant bloody snail.
Yup, there he was little feeler thingies out have a good ol’ romp around the nappy bag leaving his shimmery glossy trail all over my baby’s clothes…..
So what did I do?
What any good blogger would do of course.
I photographed the bloody thing for a future blog post and sent a text to MonsterSquad Dad suggesting Veruca should keep her friends to herself!!!
Now I quickly ducked out and sorted out Elijah’s butt, and then sat back down casually and continued to go about feeding the baby and spectating on the dance practice.
Thoughts were running crazy through my mind as to what I was going to do with the snail when it came time to leave the room.
I knew Veruca would be devastated if he happened to get crushed in the bag, and quite frankly snail guts and baby stuff are kind of a gross combination.
How on earth was I going to get out of that building with the baby, the bag, the costume, the prancing daughter and a flaming snail without looking like some kind of weirdo snail collecting freak???
In the end I decided I would ask Zaf to quietly carry the snail down stairs to the van where Veruca would be eagerly waiting the arrival of her escapee snail.
Of course quietly is just something Zaf cannot do, so at the top of her lungs she introduced Veruca’s snail to all her dancing friends and even the teacher.
Mortified comes close to covering how I was beginning to feel.
I could feel the eyes of some parents lasering through me with disgust.
Oh no!, how dare I let my little ballerina touch a garden creature…
Lets just say we left in a hurry, returned to the van and gave the snail to a very welcoming Veruca.
Classy I know.
I may be forever known as that weird lady with the 500 kids, the stinky baby and the pet snail… but at least Veruca was happy that her friend was safe and sound.
Later on in the evening, after having another little giggle about what had happened, I asked little Miss Veruca about where she had put her little snaily mate.
I certainly wanted to make sure he had a safer place to be other than the nappy bag.
“Awwww Mum, I flung him out the car window on the way home”……
Yep, of course you did dear…… of course……
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