Gymnastics for the Snooty Set

Agent X is a pretty active kid. While I have been known to exercise, I am not the kind of parent who is 3 steps ahead of her child at all times. I am the kind of parent who has made up games that involve Agent X running around a lot, while I watch and laugh.

I signed him up for gymnastics at the local rec center in September. He loved it, and isn't half bad. Also, rec gymnastics are cheap- $58 for 14 weeks. Another mom I know hated the classes and yanked her kid out half way through. On the other hand, I signed my kid up for the second session in January.

Local parents with greater financial means tend to send their kids to a place I will call Fancy Flippers. FF is on the edge of town, very near the McMansions that these parents live in. FF costs $89 per month. PER MONTH.

Let's do a little economic instruction for those following along at home:
$58 divided by 14 classes = $4.14 per class
$89 divided by 4 classes = $22.25 per class

And, I've created a little compare and contrast visual for you:

So you can see, FF is cool, but not a sustainable program for Agent X. I MEAN, IT'S $89 FOR 4 CLASSES FOR THE LOVE OF SWEET BABY JESUS!

That $89 draws in a certain type of parent. 

A type that doesn't want their child learning gymnastics with the type of riff-raff that frequents the rec center. The type of parent who tells you certain schools are bad because, and I am quoting here, "There are lots of languages being spoken there." And we're not talking about profanity, kids. 

However, I happened to win TWO months of classes at a charity auction. For $30. Yes, for two whole months! I am sure that the owners of FF would lose their poop if they knew how much I paid, but I'll never tell.

Since I am not *that type of parent* I am fearlessly going into the wild to report back to you my interactions with said parents.

The first type? The Stage Dad.

Dad brings daughter to gymnastics. Dad is a sight to see- black (dyed?) curly hair slicked back neatly into ponytail. So neatly I want to ask how he does it, because my ponytail is never so sleek. Black hipster framed glasses. Black track suit. Last but definitely not to be missed, black Sketchers Shape Ups on his feet. I may actually snort a little upon noticing the shoes.

FF has a half-wall parents must stay behind during classes. Which is fine with me, I can watch but also knit, read, or play games on my phone.

Stage Dad takes this opportunity to pace back and forth on his shoes which may or may not firm ones butt, depending on which study you read. He does this for the first 15 minutes of class.

Then he starts leaning over the wall and giving the stink eye and pointing out instructions to his daughter. He's not talking at this point, but he's clearly communicating with her. She sometimes pays attention, and sometimes does not. She is either 3 or 4, after all.

After a few minutes of this, I have stopped playing games on my phone and start watching him. The stage is his.

Stage Dad starts loudly directing his Little Darling from behind the wall. The finger pointing and visual cues are now supplemented with a very loud voice. Little Darling again pays attention, and then does not.

He decides that his Little Darling is not paying close enough attention. He goes into the gymnastics area and starts giving instruction. There are 6 kids in this class. Two teachers. And now Stage Dad is part of the class. Walking around in the classroom, still very loudly instructing his daughter, but now standing with her the whole time!

Little Darling is on the trampoline, and Stage Dad is right there with her, "Do a tuck jump. Again. Again! That wasn't very high!"

I may be actually laughing out loud at this point. I mean, I feel really bad for Little Darling, but this may be the highlight of my day and I am not missing it! Two of the kids each have a nanny who brings them to gymnastics and at this point they have stopped talking to each other and are watching me watch Stage Dad. I don't care, I am having way too much fun. I would probably be pissed if I were paying full price for those classes, but since I don't really care and it's just an opportunity for Agent X to run around and possibly learn a skill in the process, I'm fine with it. For what it's worth, Agent X has developed a pretty nice forward roll.

Luckily, class ends, and Stage Dad corners the lead teacher and asks her what Little Darling can work on at home to improve her skills.

I am not sure if I will lose my eyeballs in my head from rolling them so much.

Stay tuned, because Agent X has 6 more of these classes.

My Kid Is Odd

Agent N is 8. If you have ever spent time with an 8 year old boy you will discover that they are just straight up the weirdest people on earth. They are also hilarious and fun, but only when it's just you and just them. If they are in the presence of ANYONE else, they're weird.

Agent N likes to talk to himself. In the bathroom.

Yesterday, I hollered out to him: "Agent N! Why are you talking to yourself?"
Agent N: "I'm not! I'm muttering!"

I rest my case.

Also note: Agent N is both brilliant and afflicted with ADHD. Before you tell me I can fix that (by that I mean the ADHD, not the brilliance) by feeding him organic, grass fed, PBS-watching beef that was kissed before bed every night, I am telling you to eff off. If you want proof that ADHD is real, come spend 2 days with Agent N. The first where is is not medicated so that he makes you absolutely insane and want to put your own eyes out because the emergency room would be better than spending another minute with him... and the second day, where he is medicated and is the sweet, wonderful boy that I know is inside of him. He is not medicated to oblivion. He is himself. Of this I am not ashamed.

And the brilliant part? That's not just a mom being proud. I thought for a long, long time that he was just a little smarter than normal. Maybe. No big deal. In the past year we moved from one state to another because of my husband's job. The state we just moved from didn't test kids until 3rd grade. Not so in the new state and so year he was tested. Agent N is in 2nd grade and he reads on a 6th grade level. And he prefers math and science over reading. His teacher gives pre-tests in math and if they get two or less wrong, they don't have to take the final test. Agent N has yet to take a math test this year.

I am not bragging. I don't entirely know what to do with this. I am not a math or science person. I often use a calculator to check his homework.

Back to the oddity... as I sit here he has his first friend over from his new school. Agent N doesn't quite know what to do with a friend in the house. Usually he has Agent X to beat up on and that's the extent of it. He has one friend in the neighborhood, let's call him Ranjeet, and that's it. Ranjeet's parents don't let him come into our house, and vice versa. Agent N has been bossy and a little hyper. I don't want him to make a billion friend mistakes and never have another friend in the house. On the other hand, I need to let him learn. I have stepped in once or twice, but generally I have just let him do his thing.

I feel confident Agent N and friend are wrestling upstairs right now. There is yelling, thumping, giggling, and the occasional howl. I'm letting it go until someone cries. I'm just happy he has a friend.

Here I Am...

About this me and this blog:

I have strong opinions and I have the internet. I'm going to tell you what I like and don't like and why.

I live in a rural town in a state on the Eastern seaboard. My family: Sports Guy (husband), Agent N (oldest son, in 3rd grade as of 2012), Agent X (youngest son, entering Kindergarten in the fall) and myself, Brick, moved from the south, which we are not from originally.  I work at home, teaching high school online. It's a sweet gig. I also skate roller derby. I'm also somewhat crafty. Or I like to think so.

I have a good mom friend, Antsy (mom of 2 little girls). I have lots of derby friends, some that are just acquaintances. I have lots of friends I used to teach with Down South. My family lives Up North.