So, what has inspired me to return to blog writing is this: I just finished reading Cheryl Strayed's Wild and I am currently delving into Kim Stagliano's All I Can Handle: I'm no Mother Teresa. I am easily inspired by strong, independent, courageous women who force me to evaluate my life, my flaws, my strengths, my shortcomings, my mistakes, my successes, etc. Wild is now my all-time favorite book; if you haven't read it, I suggest you get up and go buy it right now (after you're done reading my blog entry of course).
Just to play catch up really quick, Karys had her first ever dance recital last weekend and it went off without a hitch. I was so nervous about how she would behave in that situation that I almost pulled her from it altogether and backed out of the whole thing. I completely expected to have to sit with her in the dressing room through the entire dress rehearsal and both nights of the recital. Parents were not allowed in the dressing rooms and there was no way I was willing to let a couple of volunteers who knew nothing of Karys's "behavioral tendencies" to supervise her without guidance. Not to mention she was probably the only dancer who isn't potty trained. So I got special permission from the dance instructor to sit in the dressing room all three nights (meaning I would miss the entire recital). Not to mention I would have to pawn my son off onto my parents all three nights. We showed up to the dressing room on dress rehearsal night and the room was full of girls, toys, and a tiny tv playing Disney movies. Karys went right to playing and watching tv and didn't even acknowledge that I was in the room. I talked to the volunteers about Karys and her needs and they seemed more than okay with taking on the task. So, I decided to go sit in the audience and leave Karys with her 9-year-old cousin, the two volunteers, and about forty other girls. I thought she probably had a better chance of going on-stage when they tell her to than if I tried to drag her out there myself (kids never listen to their parents, right?). To my surprise, when it was time for Karys's class to come on-stage, she followed right along behind them. Secretly, I knew as soon as the lights came on and the music started she would let out a horrendous shriek and run off the stage crying....but she did not! She smiled and watched her cousin (who was standing just off-stage) and copied her every move, doing the entire dance! She was beautiful and charismatic and danced beautifully and I could not have asked for it to go any better. She did the exact same thing the next two nights during the recitals (with the exception of a minor meltdown at intermission on recital night #1 during which another mommy stepped in and comforted Karys and allowed me to escape out of the dressing room). By the end of night #3 I was a happy, proud, stress-free mommy. If only everything were that easy...but then what fun would that be? :)
k.
My beautiful tap dancer at her first recital.
