Under-programmed/Over-programmed

Last fall we (meaning the kids, of course) had no scheduled activities outside of school.  Zero point zero.  This made sense to me for various reasons, and I think it was right for our family at the time.  And yet...oh my word those were some looooong weeks (turned months).  The children were not craving more, but I was.  Something to break up the weeks, something more than the occasional playdate (never a drop off, mind you) or outing to look forward to.  I have to admit that even though I am all for avoiding over-programming childhood, our family officially reached the other end of that pendulum swing and became decidedly under-programmed, at least for my taste.

So why is it that now with the simple addition of two measly things, swimming for the girls on Sundays, and dance on Wednesdays, it already feels like too much?  "Feels like too much" as in, I couldn't easily find parking today and came *this* close to just saying forget it and driving home.  Ugh.  Swimming is no problem, I suppose because it's a weekend thing so Joe is around to help.  It must be a Wednesday issue?  (June's doing a third day of preschool now on Wednesday mornings at Georgia's school, which means a whopping four round trips to that school on Wednesdays.  It's kind of ridiculous. Oh, and before you offer it up, yes, I have heard of the concept of a carpool before.  Undoubtedly this is precisely why they were invented.)

I'm sure some of you with older kids are laughing your heads off.  I get it - I have three kids.  My chauffeur days are coming, even if we do try to limit how many extra-curriculars they participate in.  I guess I am going to have to build up my stamina and pray that the angst/activity build-up/activity let-down episodes accompanying these things subside with time.

I signed the girls up for a joint tap class for the express purpose of blowing my own mind with unbearable cuteness, and I think these photos serve as proof that that goal was achieved.  Alas, their tap career was short-lived and my dreams of sisters together in tutus on stage were dashed when it was discovered that this tap class does not participate in the year end recital.  Georgia's lust for the roar of the crowd has driven her to the ballet studio down the hall, and June's on a short sabbatical until she realizes that hanging out with mom and Waylon in the waiting area is far less fun than being the youngest tapper in the room.  As for Waylon, he's doing well with his foray into years of being the little brother dragged along to all of his sisters' activities.  He eagerly stomps outside the door, a little Michael Flatley waiting in the wings.
       


(These aren't private lessons, we just happened to be the first ones there. Which means everyone else was running really late, because we are rushing to arrive late every. single. time.)


(This shot perfectly captures the essence of our tap experience.  Georgia dancing, June bored and entertaining herself in the mirror, Waylon's reflection captured in the window as he climbs all over the waiting area.)