Where Ever You Go

Watching my girls grow up and accomplish milestones both big and small has been
an inspiring journey for me so far.  The looks on their faces when they know that
their parents are fully engaged and cheering them on is priceless, it's a pure joy that I
wish I could bottle up and save forever.  I miss out on so much of their lives when I leave
and head out for work everyday, kissing Belle goodbye at the bus stop and
reluctantly dropping Brees off at the sitter.  The working mother guilt is an emotion
that never really seems to go away, not even on my good days.  And so I jump into
my motherhood role on my off time with reckless abandon, savoring every moment,
every request, every step we walk together.  I appreciate our time and live it to the
fullest, knowing how much it means to them as well.

Friday night was one of those small milestones that we celebrated big: Isabelle
participated in a week long cheerleading camp at our local high school and was able to
cheer and dance with the senior cheerleaders.  We made a huge fuss about it: took a
million pictures, sat front and center in the bleachers, whooped and hollered until we
were hoarse as she did her thing.  She was adorable, completely in her element, smiling
that megawatt smile every time someone told her how much she looks like her mama.
It was a great night to catch up with some of my old high school classmates, to
reminisce about the countless amount of Friday nights I spent on those same side
lines, dancing and cheering as a Panthorette.  

Isabelle has most of my old dance costumes in her dress up trunk and she loves to ask
me the story behind each one: "Where did you wear this one, Mama?  What song did
you dance to in this one?"  I catch her in the mirror sometimes, flipping her hair and
twirling around in the silver sequins that were my second skin.  Seeing yourself in your
child: it is surreal.  I am so completely grateful to have a daughter to cheer on and
support, the same way my mama always did for me.  She's already asked us if she can
do cheer camp again next year and we wholeheartedly agreed.  We'll be there, tiny
dancer, we'll go where ever you go.

 

Wordful Wednesday

We had family night at dance class last week: a super special night where mamas and 
daddies and little baby sisters get to watch their big girl show off her mad skills.  It's the 
only time we are allowed into the dance studio to peek in on our girls so I look forward to 
it every year.  Isabelle was excited but confided in me that she was a bit nervous for me 
to watch her.  She was moved to a Level 2 class this year: a class for more experienced 
dancers that focuses more intently on technique and form.  I've noticed a change in 
her dancing just from watching her twirl around the house: her arms are more precise, her 
feet are learning the fine art of turn out.  She's in a black leotard with white tights, code 
for "I'm a big girl now".  She can make her own bun and tie her own ballet slippers.  Our 
little girl is maturing into a beautiful young ballerina and I couldn't be more proud.  
Neither could her sister who spent the entire class cheering and imitating the big girls from
the sidelines.  I had to wrangle Brees in quite a few times as the spirit of the dancers called 
her in, tempting her to run out onto the floor and join in on the fun.  Though Belle did her 
best to stay focused and centered throughout the class, I caught her glancing our way quite 
a few times, checking to make sure we were watching.  Do you remember that feeling 
when your family showed up to watch you do something you love?  Wanting to do your 
best and show off your passion?  Belle, you are an amazing little dancer and watching 
your talent grow is a true joy.  Have fun this year, learn as much as you can, and dance 
big!!  Your talent is a true gift to behold!!   

 

Third Grade

Isabelle started school this week as a third grader.  I've spent the whole week 

wondering how my baby can be old enough to read and solve math problems and write 

in cursive.  Time certainly does fly.  This year is quite special as she is attending a 

new school, leaving behind the school she has attended since she was 

in preschool.  I have mixed feelings about this: as a rule, I don't like moving, I 

don't really like change.  I love being comfortable and knowing my surroundings and 

building a strong community.  But I know that this move is going to bring some 

positive changes into Belle's academic career.  Plus, her cousin and best friend Sarah 

was accepted and is making the move, too.  They are basically a package deal, these two.

And if there's anything we've learned over the last few months, it's that sometimes a 

change truly can do you good.

The first day of school was full of rituals: a big breakfast, arguments over which headband 

to wear, nervous jitters, and a sweet new backpack.  We met up with Sarah at my 

aunt's house for a photo shoot, the girls so excited in their new uniforms.  My aunt and 

I drove them to school: our first day tradition.  We walked them to class, meeting a few 

new faces along the way.  Everyone was friendly, the girls both smiling as they took

 their seats with their brave faces on.  I walked back to my car and cried a little bit, so 

proud of my daughter and her strong, confident character.  I knew that she would be fine 

at her new school, she would make new friends and integrate well.  Belle has a kind soul 

and a strong sense of self, she works hard and tries her best.  

What more could a mother ask for?

I made sure I was home every afternoon this week to greet her when she ran off the

 school bus: papers flying and stories spilling out of her mouth before she could even

 get down the driveway.  Shawn sits with her in the office and helps her with her 

homework while I make dinner and look after Brees.  My husband has worked on oil rigs

 in the Gulf of Mexico since Belle was born, traveling for work constantly and rarely home 

in the late afternoon homework hours.  He confided in me last night that one of the 

bright spots of his accident are that he can be home with us now, he can help his little 

girl learn her spelling words, watch her grow and change and develop.  Watching the two 

of them together, heads down and pencils sharpened: I can feel my soul beginning to 

heal from the trauma we have endured.  I can begin to see a purpose so much 

greater than us.