I don't know why, but I've still been wracked with anxiety about dance. Dano goes and reads a book during the lessons. I watch with interest, but also with my heart in my chest until she gets her stamp at the end. Part of it is because Lilah is the most uncoordinated in a class of uncoordinated. She tries really hard, but sometimes her body just seems to arrest itself as she gets behind in the steps and can't decide where to jump in.
Once, she was messing around on the barre and fell hard onto the floor. The teacher came down to her level and very firmly told her, "We do not fall like that in dance class." Lilah's eyes flashed and she crossed her arms defiantly and threw her nose in the air, refusing to make eye contact. "If you do not do all the steps, you do not get a stamp at the end."
Lilah replied with a "Hmph." I tried not to drop my head into my hands. I knew this mood. She'd given Lilah a direct order and was being defied. This was the part where her dad or I would get as angry as she was, would order her to time out or haul her into her room to have a break. Miss Amanda returned to the front of the class like nothing had happened and continued where she had left off. Lilah Rose stood rigid, nose in the air, looking absurdly out of place in the middle of a line of tiny dancers. But I watched something different happen. She watched as the other dancers kept going, and realized she was out of place. I don't know if she was embarrassed or self conscious, but she melted from her defiant stance slowly and fell into sync with the others. She worked twice as hard and earned her stamp at the end. I was so thankful to see her bow to social pressures in this case, that there is a limit to her defiance when she sees she isn't benefitting from it.
During the last practice before the show, Lilah had the dances down to about 75%. All of the girls had their moments where they were backwards, lopsided, unable to hold a pose. None of them were perfect but they were all so enthusiastic and adorable. I wasn't anxious in a "Dance Moms" way. I could have cared less if she got all the steps perfectly. I just didn't want her to knock down another dancer, or go rogue and bunny hop all over the stage in her excitement at performing (it had happened to several of the girls once or twice during rehearsal), or freeze or burst into tears.
I had nothing but bad anxiety dreams the entire night before. I woke up and cleaned the whole house to keep my mind off it. Lilah ate a leisurely breakfast, helped with some cleaning, took over my Pandora station and switched it over to "Disney Princess Radio". She's discovered the thumbs up and thumbs down approach to hearing more songs she likes, although she roars in rage when she runs out of "skips". "Defying Gravity" from Wicked came on, and she listened carefully before giving it the thumbs up. After a few more songs from Wicked that morning and dozens of questions, she had pieced together the plot and took herself back to bed to sing "Defying Gravity" at the top of her lungs. I smiled and wished I were more like her. She was so excited and confident. I'd be terrified and frozen. My stomach seizes up before I go in a patient's room for a breastfeeding consult or patient education, or have to train a new employee or give a review. "You don't know anything. They're older than you. You look ridiculous. You are ridiculous." I take a deep breath before entering every room and pretend to be someone else. Someone who knows what they're doing. Someone who oozes confidence and expertise. Somehow they buy it. Somehow no one's called "Bullshit!" But I'm afraid that every time will be THE time. The time it all comes crashing down and I'll be exposed as a fraud.
And somehow my offspring was in her bed, smilingly belting out "I'm through accepting limits, 'cause someone says they're so. Some things I cannot change but til I try I'll never know! Kiss me goodbye, I'm defying gravity and you can't pull me down." I marvel at it daily. But I pretend there too. I tell her what I know to be true, instead of what my fears whisper to me every day. I pretend to know how to be a good mother, and it comes. She's growing up with the spirit I pretend to have, and I envy her for it. She's fearless and brave and strong, even when she's strong-willed. And she was about to do something I know I never could. It's a crazy thing, to admire your 4 year old.
We drove her to the community center and my hands were shaking. I thought I was going to throw up. I had no rational explanation for why I was being so crazy. We had been told to deposit her in a group of others in her age group. All of Miss Amanda's classes at her level were performing that day. I just had to take her to the front, remove her toasty robe, and turn her over to her teacher. As I did, I got pushed away from the stage by the throng. I panicked. I hadn't told her where I'd be. I hadn't kissed her, or told her she'd be great. I didn't tell her to walk carefully up the steps, and to keep her eyes on Miss Amanda. I hadn't told her anything. I was trying to at least catch her eye to try to get all those things into her head with just a quick glance. I saw a French-braided, blonde head take a seat with her class without looking back. I saw a classmate squeeze her affectionately. I heard Miss Amanda say, "It's so nice to see you, Lilah." I was 4 feet away and getting pushed further back. I turned and walked away. I wanted to cry, for me obviously and not for her. I got to our row of seats, and Dano squeezed me.
A few opening numbers by the "show dancers", and her class took the stage. Their jazz dance was first, and I saw her do her dance, grinning the entire time. She stayed in her place, kept her eyes on the teacher, gave it her best shot, and only paused once to look out into the dark crowd for us before stepping back in with the rest. During her ballet dance, she got really excited to do a releve and bounced up and down a couple times afterward. When the teacher reminded them to make sure their butterfly was on the right hand, she took this as criticism and switched hands even though she'd gotten it right the first time, so spent the majority of the dance with the butterfly on the wrong wrist, but no one cared. She certainly didn't. We didn't. We watched the rest of the dances. I was relaxed and proud. There were dancers of all shapes and sizes, fully clothed, no cleavage or midriffs (although Kim pointed out there was a lot of cheek showing under one of the jazz costumes), and no sexual dances or twerking. Seeing all the levels of classes, I was so happy to be at this dance school. I'd be comfortable with Lilah continuing on if she were interested. I'd try to be less anxiety-ridden for the rest of the season/her dance career. I seriously had wanted to hug Miss Amanda for the work she does with the girls. I'd seen her on stage dancing in several of the show numbers, and she was so talented. To pass that on to the smallest and most uncoordinated group of preschoolers I'd ever seen was nothing short of a gift.
We collected Lilah and everyone hugged her and told her how awesome she'd done. She got flowers, and cousin hugs, and love showered in every direction. She chose Lebanese as her celebration dinner location, and we ate, drank, and generally made merry with friends. I kissed her goodnight that night, exhausted and proud of herself, still humming "Defying Gravity". I think she's right. Our bird will fly high.
