Sometimes I think it’s often the biggest moments in parenting that we build up to such a height, we are only setting ourselves up for disaster. It’s almost as if the universe is saying, “Oh, you think this HAS to be the perfect memory? Let’s see how we can make this interesting…” The gods of childhood then proceeds to throw every curve ball possible at you in the form of toddler tantrums, lost blankies, or spilled cereal. How you handle this, of course, may be completely different than me, but I tend to lose my bloody mind. I wish I could say I was the cool cucumber, but recognizing I have a problem is the first step, right?
As fate would have it, Cora’s ballet recital turned out to be one of those moments in parenting. One of those humbling experiences that bring you to your knees and make you realize you don’t have a freaking clue what you’re doing. So while I had planned to post the perfect pictures of our perfect day and write a perfect post about my perfect ballerina, what I really have to share is far less polished. At least, however, this will verify that I am, in fact, human, and when I make mistakes, I make them BIG. 🙂
Since we’ve been back in San Antonio, Cora has been taking ballet classes at the Boerne public library every Friday morning. It’s a free class, so nothing intense, but we thought it might be fun for her and keep her involved until we’re back in Cancun and she can resume her normal routine with a studio there. She LOVES her teacher, the librarian Miss Constance, and every class was a chance for her to play, giggle with her fellow ballerinas, and then check out a few books after. We were even more excited when we found out she would be having a recital at the end of the summer.
Mistake #1: Hyping up this recital for the WEEKS leading up to it. 🙂 By the time the day finally arrived, it seemed as if it was Christmas in July. I had her leotard ready, her shoes laid out, and her tutu fluffed. I even planned to take photos and video of the entire performance. Never mind that her portion was only about two minutes and consisted of running in a circle.
So we get to the library, a dozen pink roses in tow, and discover that the community room is already PACKED with parents, grandparents, and apparently second cousins twice removed just DYING to see their ballerinas too. Mistake #2: Not getting there early enough for good seats. Of course, Issa is hungry, and I forgot the nursing cover, so I’m forced to awkwardly feed her under the baby carrier desperately hoping the power of breastmilk will put her in a good enough mood to watch the performance from my lap. Alas, my lap is no longer going to be good enough because there are people crowded like sardines around us and I can barely see the stage. As the music ramps up, I awkwardly stand with Issa on my hip, who is now slightly perturbed that I disturbed her dinner, and anxiously hope for a glimpse of my little starfish.
In a flash, she’s done. She does beautifully, but she’s done. And now there is the slow torture of sitting through every other little dancer’s shining moment, frantically distracting the baby so she won’t ruin some other family’s video recording. Orlando eventually has to take her out of the room to avoid a meltdown, so I’m left on my own as the dancers take their final bows. And then, in the blink of an eye, it happened. Some little girl ran up to Cora and would not leave her alone. Trapped behind three rows of beaming parents, I couldn’t do anything but watch as she tugged her arm, grabbed at her hand, and then absolutely YANKED on her bun and flower ribbon HARD. I couldn’t help myself, I started yelling, “No, no, no, NO, NO, NO!!!” I probably sounded crazy, but I didn’t care. I never saw the other girl’s parents. I don’t even know if they realized what happened, or said anything to their daughter. I just saw Cora weaving her way back to me in tears. My poor baby, she was just sobbing, scared and wondering why on earth that girl was behaving that way. Now I’m emotional, and just ready for this whole thing to be done. Apparently Mistake #3 was assuming other people would be watching their own kids. Ugh.
What followed will probably, in years to come, be a very funny memory, but not quite yet. It’s just borderline amusing, with a taste of utter frustration still left in my mouth. A very kind stage mom on the way out handed Cora a cupcake. With BRIGHT BLUE ICING. To a four-year-old in a white leotard and light yellow tutu. However, so we didn’t offend the very kind woman, I watched as Cora took the cupcake and tried her first bite of icing. Unfortunately, so did her sister. Who immediately wanted THAT cupcake more than ANYTHING in the world. Mistake #4: not getting two cupcakes, or getting one at all.
Now if we had just headed out to the car, changed Cora out of her costume, and let them each share a bit of the tasty treat, things might have been ok. Maybe there would have been a little stress watching them get blue icing all over their faces, but that probably would’ve been it. Tragically, there was just one obstacle we had yet to tackle: the dreaded family photos. They had to happen. How could we walk away from her first ballet recital with not one photo to show for it? What would she say in adulthood when she asked for photos of this happy memory? What would I tell her? WHAT WOULD I POST ON THE BLOG?! (Please note the facetious font. 😉 ) By George, we were going to dive in to these pictures, ready or not.
Mistake #5: attempting photos after the event, with just one cupcake in our midst, at the end of a long, hot day. It did not. go. well. And that is an understatement. If one kid had the cupcake, they were dangerously close to ruining their outfit with blue frosting. If the other kid didn’t have the cupcake, they were bawling their eyes out. Orlando and I yelled. And furiously debated how to get each kid happy, without the cupcake, just enough to smile for a photo. The photos in this blog post are NOTHING compared to faces they were making off camera. You would have thought we were raising Neanderthals. It ended with the cupcake being thrown in the trash, promises of ice cream after the recital being revoked, and every single member of our family leaving the library rather disgruntled. Not our prettiest moment.
Mistake #6: not taking a deep breath and realizing this is LIFE. It’s messy, it’s crazy, and it’s never quite what you thought it would be. What matters is that Cora was happy dancing her little heart out. What matters is that night she went to bed with a huge smile on her face. And hopefully, what matters in parenting, is that even though I royally screwed up multiple times that day, I also told her I was proud of her about a million and one times. Now, does anyone have a cupcake I can eat?
XO,
A
