On Thursday, usually one of my work days, I sent M to The Very Large Catamaran, and Small Z and I went along to her ‘dance group’. This is somewhere she has been going with M for the past few weeks and really enjoys. It was bizarre.
It’s in a hall. There were about 50 little kids there with their mums (no dads) and the thing was run by grandparenty looking people. The audio was atrocious and the words to all the songs were projected on to a wall with one of those transparency projecting things they used to use (and maybe still do) at school. And it was Goddy. Despite all of that, the kids all thought it was EXCELLENT. Small Z loved it all, and I became adept at covering her ears when the old bloke with the microphone waved it too near the speaker *groan*
There were actions and dancing to all the songs. I could tell Small Z was used to having M there to swing her up in the air during certain bits, but she is pretty au fait with the fact that I’m not that mobile with her at the moment. We had a ball! And at the end they threw piles of skanky looking toys all over the floor and handed out free museli bars – what was not to like!!?
My other priority for the day was my second ever acupuncture appointment. I had my first last week and found it quite good, but I hadn’t planned on having Small Z around when I booked for the second stab. Anyway, the only way I knew I was going to swing it was if she slept, so I took off on an epic drive along the peninsula, stopping briefly at Shoreham beach.
She finally conked it as I got to Flinders. Again. This time I was not swayed by good parenting practices. I raced into a cafe that I was able to park straight out the front of, ordered some cheese sandwiches, an offensively large donut and a chai. And then raced back to eyeball the car until it was all ready to go. Then I went and sat in front of an exceptional view and disposed of the drink and the donut. God, it was therapeutic.
Small Z awoke too early and I did another brief circuit around the town to resettle her before coming back to my spot, cranking the seat back and trying to rest. Then we ate our sandwiches. It was lovely. I explained how I had to see a ‘leg doctor’ who was going to stick tiny needles in me, and did she think she could come and play quietly while I stayed like a motionless pincushion? She assured me that it would be fine.
We went to an op-shop on the way and invested in a picture book and yet another soft-toy Tigger, and thus equipped, went to see Travis the pin-pusher. It was no drama. He also has a two-and-a-half-year-old and at the end of the session, she helped him pull all the needles out of my hip. Obviously needle-phobia is not genetic (M).
I think that, while it was useful, acupuncture is going to now fall by the wayside for me, as I did a bit of dancing with Small Z the other night that has taken me back to the land of craptastic. I need a whizz-bang physio person for some hands-on massage. Or something…