All posts tagged: Hula hoop

About That Phone Call

He’s coming. He was in the hospital over the weekend (hence the lack of communication). He’s booked a hotel halfway between my place his brother’s (so as not to inconvenience my parents or force me into play hostess all weekend) and will be arriving sometime Friday afternoon. I managed not to cry during my preschoolers’ end-of-the-year concert yesterday. My boss did not fire me. More tomorrow.

Who Knew a Hula Hoop Could Get You Fired?

Well folks, I still haven’t heard from Date #7 (and seeing as we’re supposed to be meeting for the first time on Friday afternoon and spending the entire weekend together, this is kind of a big deal).  Under ordinary circumstances, I’d be tempted to smash my cell phone against the wall and swear off men all together but I’ve got bigger fish to fry. It all began around noon yesterday.  I was at The School (where I teach creative movement five mornings a week) carrying props from the dance studio down to the auditorium to get ready for our end-of-the-year concert when my boss calls me over to her desk. Now I should pause briefly to explain that there are in fact two schools under my boss’s jurisdiction.  She rarely visits our branch, as it’s the smaller of the two, but every once in a while she’ll stop by to make sure we haven’t descended into total anarchy. I should also explain that the creative movement teacher at the other branch has been there since …

My Single Male Friend Friday: Meet “D”

It’s Friday.  This means three things.  First, by the time you read this I’ll be knee-deep in hula hoops at The School’s Annual Field Day.  (I’m about as excited about judging a hula hoop competition in the middle of heat wave as I was about teaching my preschoolers to jump rope.) Second, Date #7 will be arriving in Philadelphia a week from today.  In the interest of maintaining my sanity, I’m going to leave it at that for today. Third, it’s time to bring back My Single Male Friend Friday, because as my friend and former bachelor-of-the-week Marshall pointed out, it’s been a while. Today’s Single Male Friend has requested that I don’t use his full name so I’ll be referring to him as “D.”  (See how easy it is, guys?)  I met D shortly after I moved back from London and I’ve got to hand it to my mom on this one: she’s the one who first introduced us.  Although he’s not really my type, D’s absolutely adorable and he has the most endearing …

Seriously, Why Me?

Note to self: do not wear hoop earrings while attempting to teach preschoolers how to jump rope.  I nearly lost an earlobe yesterday—several times, actually—and our poor tropical bird mobile looks even worse than it did when I first found it tangled and forgotten about and shoved under a box several weeks ago. Why am I teaching my preschoolers to jump rope?  Believe me: it wasn’t my idea.  I’m all about ribbons and scarves and beanbags and soft things that do not have the capacity to turn into lethal weapons when placed into the eager but inexperienced hands of my five year olds. But jump ropes? Jump ropes are almost as bad as basketballs.  And basketballs are almost as bad hockey sticks.  And hockey sticks—well, there’s a reason I keep them hidden. At the request of my boss, however, I’ve devised an entire week’s worth of lesson plans dedicated to the art of jumping rope.  One of the parents has organized a Jump Rope for Heart fundraiser this coming Friday and although I think this …