About a week and a half ago Jon and I loaded up the kids and headed to the PNE. It’s an annual end-of-summer ritual for many Vancouver families, and ours is no different. We eat fair food, ride the roller coaster, play midway games, visit with farm animals and go to shows. On the day that we were there Shrek: Stompin’ the Swamp was playing at the Family Theatre, and my kids were eager to go, so we went. This, my friends, is what parents do – they go to shows that they would rather not go to in order to make their progeny happy.

The good news is that watching Shrek and Fiona dance and sing on stage did make my kids happy. Three-year-old Jacob was especially thrilled at being so close to Shrek. It was, for him, a real-life celebrity sighting, and he was over the moon. If the stage hadn’t been six feet off the ground, I’m not sure I could have stopped him from climbing up and joining in. The other good news is that the show was really very short, and so while it wasn’t my first choice of entertainment, at least I didn’t have to spend all afternoon watching it.

Photo credit: Yogesh Kumar Jaiswal on Flickr

I was especially glad about the shortness, because Shrek: Stompin’ the Swamp may have been the worst show I’ve ever seen. The costumes were large and padded, so Shrek and Fiona could barely move. The plot was weak and didn’t make much sense. The main premise that Shrek forgot his anniversary was really over the head of your average preschooler. And the venue we were in didn’t really lend itself easily to kids getting up and dancing around. Many people left the performance midway through out of sheer boredom.

In my time as a parent I’ve carted my children thither and yon, and I’ve seen a lot of children’s entertainment. Based on my experience I can say that Stompin’ the Swamp is hardly unique in its bad-ness. While there are truly amazing children’s entertainers, fabulous attractions, terrific children’s museums and even top-notch kids’ TV, there is also a lot of truly terrible children’s entertainment in the world.

Photo credit: Musicwala on Flickr

My children are oblivious to my opinion about whether something is “good” or “bad”. While I grit my teeth and bear it, they are often having the time of their lives. On one level, I understand that children’s entertainment isn’t made for me, so my opinion doesn’t really matter. But on another level, I see that it could be so much better, because some of it is. And yet, drivel is so often churned out simply because kids aren’t as sophisticated as adults. The people creating the poor-quality shows know that three-year-olds (and their parents) will show up either way, so they’re not putting in the effort.

I don’t think there’s an easy solution to the problem of really shoddy children’s entertainment. If I decided to boycott it, I would only be making my kids sad. So I put on my grown-up pants and sit through shows that I hate, because I know that a little boredom is a reasonable exchange for really happy children. Afterward, Jon and I laugh about how comically awful it was. Eventually, my kids will become more sophisticated audience members and they’ll demand a little more. And then they’ll have kids of their own, and sit through some really awful shows for them. It’s the circle of life, and it moves us all. If only it were a little easier to watch.

What’s the worst children’s attraction or show that you ever attended? Do your kids usually agree with your assessment of whether a show is good or bad? Let’s compare notes and commiserate.

Next Monday is the first day of my 6-year-old Hannah’s two-week-long Spring Break. After consulting with her back in January, we signed her up for art camp for the first week. Every day she’ll do a bunch of stuff, including working with clay, drawing, painting, musical theatre and dance. I almost wish I could attend, myself. Sadly, though, it’s only for elementary-school-aged kids. Bummer.

At first, Hannah was really enthusiastic about art camp. She asked almost every day when art camp was starting, and told me she wished it would be here sooner. She was really looking forward to the chance to let loose with her creativity. But as the date approached, she became increasingly less enthusiastic. Now she says that she doesn’t want to go, after all. She’s worried that she won’t have any friends, and that she won’t be good at art camp.

I know how Hannah’s feeling, because I was the same sort of kid. My mother loves to share the story about how she had to carry me kicking and screaming to the car for my first swimming lesson when I was six. I remember that day, myself. I was terrified because I didn’t already know how to swim, and I didn’t know any of the kids in my class. But I also had a fabulous time once I got there, and couldn’t wait to return. I suspect that once Hannah makes it to art camp, she will feel much the same way.

Hannah has enjoyed every class she’s taken. She’s naturally social, and fits in well. She tends to make at least one or two “new best friends” within five minutes of starting a new group activity. She also loves art, and often tells me that she’s an artist. I understand that Hannah’s nervous, but I didn’t choose this camp flippantly. I have every confidence that Hannah will enjoy it, and get a lot out of it.

I should also mention that art camp is non-refundable, except in case of serious illness. I have a little over $200 riding on it. If Hannah truly hates it, I won’t force her to attend. The money’s gone one way or another, so there’s no point in subjecting my daughter to five full days of torture just because I’ve laid it out. But, on the other hand, I’d like her to really try it out. I didn’t spend that money so that Hannah could skip out on art camp, you know? It’s important to me that she gives it a fair shake.

Since I’m not bending on my insistence that Hannah give art camp a go, I’m trying to find ways to make it a little less scary for her. I really don’t want a story about that time I carried my own daughter kicking and screaming to the car on her first day of class, if I can help it. So I’m doing my best to let Hannah know that she is not alone and friendless as she attends her first day camp.

I’ve told Hannah that she needs to go for the first two days, to see how it is. I’ve explained to her that I will take her in every day, help her find her class, and make sure that she’s all right. I’ve also let Hannah know that if she’s having a really hard time, it’s OK with me if she gives me a call. And I’ve told her that she can help choose what goes into her lunch. It seems to have helped, but it’s not a magic bullet. Hannah’s no longer totally resistant, but she’s still somewhat fearful.

So, I think I need a hand. I wonder about your experiences dealing with first day fears in your kids. Do you have any techniques that seem to help them over the hump? Or do you remember anything that your own parents did for you, to help you through the first day of a new activity? I’m all ears!

I have never been all that good at keeping my activity level manageable. I am what you would call a joiner. If you have a class or a club or a group of some sort, and you invite me, I am likely to attend and return and join and eventually start running the thing. I am just that sort of person. It hasn’t always worked to my advantage, as I tend to take on more than I can handle. But some part of me just likes belonging – or even better, leading – entirely too much to stop.

My propensity for signing up for every activity within a 10-mile-radius led to a bit of a situation last spring. You see, these days I have not only myself to sign up for stuff, but the children, too. In April Hannah was taking classes, Jacob was taking classes and I was taking classes. And children’s activities being what they are, I had to attend all of these classes myself, or at least be on the premises. It reached the point where every day I had some kind of activity on the go, children always in tow.

When the classes ended for the summer, I declared a self-imposed hiatus. I still belong to the groups that I most care about, but no one, and I mean no one, was going to sign up for any new classes or activities until the leaves started to turn. I wanted our days to be open and unscheduled and free of rushing hither and yon at all times. My plan worked. In fact, it worked better than I expected it to, because being out of the class loop meant that I wasn’t paying attention when fall class sign-up rolled around. We had a lovely six month long break from the various kid activities, and I’ve certainly enjoyed it.

Recently, though, I came across a program for a local arts centre that offers kid’s art classes and dance and parent and tot music lessons. Hannah has been asking to take swimming lessons again. I would like to take a class all by myself, maybe yoga on Saturday mornings. I am right back at square one, totally enamoured of joining. Because some part of me believes that all of these classes will hold the secret to fulfillment or help me meet people or maybe just give me a chance to prove that I am still a fabulous student. In fact, I’m not even entirely sure what they offer me, but I know that I want it.

Here is my conundrum. I think that a few activities here and there are fun, and can be really great for kids. Because, let’s face it, I am not going to teach my preschooler how to make pottery in my kitchen. But I seem completely incapable of setting reasonable limits. Once I start signing up I can’t stop myself, and before the dust settles we’re in every lesson I can track down.

So, I am calling on you for help. How do you keep the activity level sane? Do you have some sort of rules or limits you use to determine how many classes or activities are enough? Or, is this sort of running around and living in a car lifestyle just par for the course when you have a couple of kids? Please share and help a mama out!