This morning, I had my usual dilemma: should I or should I not go to dance class.

All because hubby had a working bee at church. Which meant I would have to take Miss J to music class with me. And make sure she was quiet and meaningfully occupied throughout the 1.5 hour class.

Which also meant I wouldn't be able to do my own thing...Read. Uninterrupted.

It worked out ok in the end. Miss J behaved perfectly. The teacher seemed a bit testy today though. Barked at students who played out of turn. Barked at students who played the wrong notes.

He gave Beth a (well deserved) lecture on the state of her Minuet in G, which she has steadfastly refused to practise. Her effort made me cringe.

Her excuse? "I was practising Intrada."

To which the teacher responded: "Perhaps the Minuet is too difficult for you? Perhaps I should find you an easier piece...like Grade One?!"

Afterwards, I gave Beth a mini-lecture of my own. She grinned (!!!) and agreed that she had indeed deserved the rebuke from her teacher.

Her bo-chap attitude made me wonder how much pride she really has in doing her best.

But back to dance class.

The group was smaller than usual, and it was the nice instructor, not the strict one. Which was great cos it meant beginners like moi got more attention and encouragement than otherwise.

I actually managed to keep up with the teens, which felt great! And I finally figured out the "leap" and "turn" components of corner work. The only thing I still struggle with is the "spin", where you have to spin across the room really fast with your eyes on a fixed object. That one made me so dizzy I had to crouch down to regain my balance.

We also learned a new move today - the pirouette. Shall have fun practising it at home.

Near the end of our Janet Jackson Black Cat routine, the instructor said to me, "Well done. You nailed it."

High praise indeed.

The 41st year

This year's motto is to be Stronger, Faster, More Flexible.

Or maybe it should just be Strong, Fast, Flexible, since I'm really lousy in all areas of physical achievement.

My private ambition - frequently nonplussed by a reluctance to get sweaty or look foolish - is to be one of those cool angmoh mums who run, do yoga, and most important of all, can play sporty games with the kids without looking like a dufus (running out of breath, not knowing the rules of the game...).

Already, a double-storey house is out of the question because the stairs...the stairs!...are a huge no-no. Thank goodness we've already enjoyed 9 years of the maisonette lifestyle in SG. Coming down the stairs, I find myself walking like my 70+ yo uncle: not straight down but at an angle - one step at a time.

Mortification.

As if it's not bad enough that I don't (know how to) swim or cycle.

I think I need private tutoring so I can "face" society (esp here in sporty Aus) and really be one of the locals.