From Tutus to Tap Pants

I have always encouraged my daughter to pursue various activities. Especially physically challenging ones. I believe it is just as important to educate the body as well as the mind. Not to mention, tired children = naps! 

As many new mothers with adorable girls, (and yes I do think they are ALL adorable), I signed my daughter up for ballet at the ripe old age of a year and a half.

 I wasn't hoping that one day she would turn into a prima ballerina, a superstar, or a talent contest winner. If any of that happens as a side benefit so be it. I did it because I loved watching her in her tiny ballet shoes and mini tutu try with all her might to stand upright and twirl and learn how to move her body in all new and different ways. And really the true reason for it all was the hope that when she gets older she will have a mastery over her body and carry herself gracefully and with confidence and ease.  

Most of her first year of dance was play, stretching, and learning to follow instruction. It helped that she took the class with a little friend of hers. Thinking back on those days now I can tear up remembering just how small and darling they were. 

Through the years, she has continued dancing. First Ballet, then Tap, and now Jazz. Both her father and I have taken her to class. Sometimes it has been a struggle to even get her into the car. There are times she has complained  about how much she doesn't want to go and other times she has glided and danced into practice. 

We have watched with amazement and cheered as a little girl just the age of 3 remembered her moves and performed in a university auditorium packed with onlookers without even the slightest bit of fear. By the time she was 4, we were already seasoned an knew what to expect when she was tapping her way onstage...

This past weekend I realized how much she has changed. As I helped her into her costume for her recital and sleeked back her hair into the required high ponytail, and put on her "special occasion" blush and lipgloss, I looked down at my daughters chiseled face and long lean legs.  Gone were the chubby cheeks and meaty thighs of my baby. 

On our way to the recital, my daughter, my husband and I chit chatted and the little guy napped. We sat through the first half of the show as a family alternating between running the little guy around outside and sitting and enjoying the other performances.

My daughter was anxious to go on, repeatedly asking "...is it almost intermission yet?" 

Just as intermission began I popped the little guy into his Ergo and together, down the very step steps, we took her down to the "performer waiting area". 

She saw and ran to the other girls from her class. I gave her a kiss and headed back to the auditorium where my husband was waiting with his camera poised and ready to go. A few more classes performed. Then, suddenly, there they were. Her class of 6 and 7 year olds in sequined tops and tiny tiny tap pants (did they have to be so short?) were commanding the stage. My husband snapped photos as my little guy and I swayed in our seat to the hip hop beat. 

They were fantastic. They looked professional. I was really proud. I was proud because my daughter stuck with it. I was proud because she went on with NO FEAR. I was really proud because she felt proud. 

I felt like I finally had a mission accomplished. Parenting is a long road. Most of us try to do what we think is best. It takes so long to see what the outcome will be. There are so many challenges, so many times you wonder if you are picking the right battles. This was the first (I hope of many) times I felt I really did the right thing. Even if she gives up dance tomorrow, I hope that the lessons she learned will stay with her for a lifetime.

All I can say is I will savor those moments. You may have heard this a million times from as many people, but time moves quickly. There will be many more challenges tomorrow. 

Do you have any "Mission Accomplished" parenting moments? 

 

A lesson in creative diapering

Now that I have 2 children, I find myself beginning to occasionally slip into a state of constant frenzied movement. I am battling the moving mess, the food schedules, the camp schedules, the play-dates, all the fun and sometimes not so fun (diaper blow-outs, sudden spit-ups, boo boos)  things that come with 2 children.

I usually have it somewhat under control. My years of working in customer relations and corporate ops have come in handy, who knew? I usually have a pre-packed bag for every occasion.

Last weekend I thought the bag was sufficiently packed. All of a sudden I found myself in a pinch. After turning the diaper bag inside out and backwards I found myself without a diaper. Fret not, with some duct tape from my friend (notice how nicely it coordinates, by the way) and a chuck (I always carry a few for diaper changes on the go) we had a makeshift diaper that looked great, worked well, and kept baby dry and happy. Just call me Mommy McGuyver. And, because we were in the city, my husband returned just a short while later with new diapers. The happened to be the Huggies Jeans diapers which were very cute.

Here comes the "music truck"

My husband left the house yesterday, locked the door, and quickly came back in. "Here comes the music truck" he said. And, we both burst into laughter. For many years we shared a little secret. It wasn't exactly lying, but we preferred to call the beloved, yet parent-dreaded ice cream truck the "music truck" instead of by it's proper name. At the time, my daughter completely bought into it, even announcing it's arrival in the neighborhood. That was until last summer when upon hearing those familiar bells and music my then 4-year-old said, "You know Mom, that really isn't a music truck, it has ice cream and stuff" to which I nonchalantly replied "Oh, really?" not letting on one bit that I knew what it was. But, now the cat is out of the bag. My husband and I will never be able to keep that a secret from the new little one, or can we and just ask my daughter to play along?