Friday, July 3, 2009

Five weeks of hurt & bliss

Tomorrow I take Quinn and Logan to Seattle and dump them on the doorsteps of Pacific Northwest Ballet school, where they will turn their 12-year old lives over to the rigor and demands of a five-week summer intensive. The boys are excited and ready and I just look on with wonder. As a kid, summer break for me meant endless days of roaming the neighborhood with Simone pretending to be native americans or bat hunters. Quinn and Logan have a very different idea of the the idyllic summer. They instead prefer to dance six hours a day, six days a week. Fun. I wonder if they ever pretend to be native american dancers, or bat hunters while they're working on their turn out? Doubt it. These two are so serious and focused. When they're dancing, that's all they think about. Fortunately, they are not totally myopic and when they aren't at a ballet studio, they are like most other 12-year olds: They read and wrestle and make goofy jokes and whine and want to read comic books for hours on end. I'm excited for them and continually marvel at their drive and dedication. They certainly didn't pick that up from Jim or me. We are more like frantic butterflies, fluttering about wondering where our next nectar hit will come from. Ooh, look over here. No wait, maybe here is better. Umm, here? Right now I'm being kept on task as I have elastic to sew on ballet slippers, tights to mend, and of course, needing to make sure that the boys get all the appropriate gear packed away for five weeks of hurt and bliss.

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