Thanks, For Making Me Feel...

I cannot believe how quickly this year has gone - and I mean the "school year," as I now have a-somewhat school-aged child.  Liv graduated from Preschool, like that's a real thing, but we all cheered and clapped and took pictures.

After months of Monday night dance classes, we are now at that glorious time of year: dance recital. {read about her first one here}  I wasn't nearly as anxious getting ready for this one as I was last year.  This was our second time around, after all, I'm nearly a pro.  Got the hair, the make-up, the costume, the snacks, we're all set.  Checked her in to the "dressing room" with the stage moms and said my good-byes and break-a-legs (thankfully she didn't ask me to explain that one just yet!)  I was just praying that this year wouldn't take 4.5 hours like last year (no joke) (and it didn't, thank God!)

Her class was 2nd to dance in the first half act.  I got to my seat and was bouncing with excitement.  I'd kept my cool back stage, maybe for my nerves more than hers.  They walked out and got into "first position" and I could already feel my momma-pride tears start to cloud my vision.

It was just something...
.... thinking about that pink baby I would snuggle with in the afternoons
.... crying over the sleepness nights (her, not me) and then waking for several months to make sure she was still breathing at night
.... the "baby dance moves" we'd go nuts and laugh and cheer for
.... the sassy mouth that made my question my capabilities as an educated, adult woman
.... her wiggle and giggle that can just make me laugh out loud
.... the unconditional love she constantly shows

Here was my baby.  Who wasn't a baby.  Dancing on stage, no teacher leading the charge, no "big kid" to follow.  She was there with her class, no one quite knowing what they should be doing at the same time, and it was absolutely perfect.  I complain about the price tag for dancing (keeping in mind my kid is only a "recreational dancer", we have yet to cross the threshold into competitive dance where the time and financial commitments are exponentially higher.)  In those two dances, it was worth every penny to watch her and feel her sense of pride when it was all done.

Here's where the real momma-pride kicks in:  We were recapping the wonderful weekend we'd had and said again how AWESOME she did at the recital.  Instead of just saying "thanks guys" as my polite little girl often does, she says:

Thanks for making me feel like such a good daughter.

Thank you for making me feel like such a good mom.

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