Seven more Tuesdays . . .

Today I had the strangest experience. For the first time ever, darling daughter and I were the oldest mom-baby duo in a room of about 12. And to be honest, I didn't like the feeling.

A couple of weeks ago, we signed up for a eight-week Kindermusik class offered through the City of Ottawa. Due to darling daughter's age, there was not much choice. It was either Kindermusik or swimming lessons. I didn't want to sign up for swimming lessons as I really have to talk myself into going to the pool. It isn't much fun trying to wrestle your one year old into her swimming suit while she is crying hysterically because she hates lying on the Rubbermaid change station.

Kindermusik? I thought to myself when I was browsing through the city's rec guide. That sounds good. Darling daughter would love music. She'll dance and we'll have tonnes fun. Sounds like a good program to get involved with.

Oh, sometimes the vision in my head doesn't live up to reality. I knew I was in trouble when we were waiting in the hallway to enter class. All the other mothers had babies that were much younger than darling daughter. She had a half a year on some of these kids and in one case she was entire year older. A year doesn't sound like much of an age difference, but in babyhood three months between children can make a big difference. While some of these babies were content to sit or lie on their blankets, my child wanted to walk and explore the toys beside the instructor. I felt like I couldn't let her explore her surroundings because I was afraid she'd trip over a baby or poke them in the eye. It was a stressful class as the scarves the instructor gave us only entertained darling daughter to a certain point before she started to squirm. And forget the session involving the baby massage. Darling daughter only laid on her back for a couple of minutes before rolling over and started playing with her Robeez shoe I gave her as a bribe to get her to lay down.

After dealing with a squirming baby, I was relieved when the instructor announced she was ending the class. But when I checked the time, we were only in class for 30 minutes. The class typically lasts for 45 minutes. Good Lord! I don't think I can do an additional 15 minutes. By the time I got my screaming child into her car seat I was exhausted. I know I need to give myself to warm up to the class, but I have my doubts if I can do it. Let's hope the next seven weeks go fast.