Seemingly overnight, our lives lately have been plunged into this bizarre world of having a kid. I know I've had one for 4 years, but up until now her life was just a tiny extension of ours. She went where we went, ate what we ate, and wore whatever we dressed her in. Now we have her in preschool, dance, we're in a babysitting co-op with other members or former members of her school, and in a few short months she begins violin lessons.
The weekend alone she's had 5 playdates and dance class. I'm overjoyed that she's so social, but it's left her dad and I a little bewildered. The babysitting co-op is a fantastic invention. Each family has a pool of hours that they trade back and forth as they watch other sets of kids or trade away their own so the parents can have lives. They do home visits and each family is vetted before joining. Lilah is always really good at other people's houses. It's at our house she struggles sometimes, in her space with her toys she has a harder time sharing and wants it all to go her own way. I like watching her work things out and it's good for the occasional disappointment to flicker across her face when she doesn't get her own way.
Dance class was interesting. I felt this choking feeling in the back of my throat seeing her dressed in her little costume, identical to all the other little girls in black leather shoes and black tights and leotards. Her hair was braided into a crown pinned to her head in an (unsuccessful) attempt to keep the blonde wisps out of her eyes. Before we went in, her teacher Miss Amanda introduced herself and talked a bit to her. Lilah was uncharacteristically shy and quiet, not leaving my lap and taking deep yoga breaths to keep calm. She told me under her breath that she was very nervous. Once in the classroom, she barely spoke, keenly observing the teacher and the other little girls doing their moves and stretches. About half-way through she started to follow along. She was wooden and unsure, but smiley by the end and starting to get into it more. I really like the class. It's a combination class, ballet/jazz/tumbling. They're learning a Dinosaur Dance, starting like baby dinosaurs in eggs on the floor and ending with walking giant invisible dinosaurs around the room. There's some sort of butterfly dance as well. They walked like bears, slithered like snakes, and did somersaults. Lilah hadn't done any of it before and didn't know how to get her body to listen to her mind (this is a major issue for her in her daily life as it is). In addition to movement, they were taught to greet their teacher by name, and end class with saying goodbye to her formally in a line of tiny black-clad bodies. Accepting compliments and awards graciously and being a polite observer of other performers are also parts of the lessons. For performances, the girls wear the exact same outfits they practice in with the addition of a simple peacock blue skirt. It's very low key and while they do perform twice a year, there aren't any show-costumes or makeup put on the girls.
I was afraid Lilah would refuse to go back. I caught her looking vexed several times during class, or dropping her head to her hands to breathe deeply if she was overwhelmed. I wanted to go to her, encourage her, but the parents aren't allowed to interact with the students. In the studio, the instructors rule alone. No cell phones, food, talking, or other children are allowed. Surprisingly, at the end of the class when they were formally dismissed (each girl receiving a stamp on their hands for attending and participating), she ran to me and hugged me, eyes bright and big smile, begging to come back next week. As soon as we got home, she dragged out my yoga mat and has been practicing all of the things she saw but couldn't do. In under 24 hours, she's already able to do almost everything they went over in class. I couldn't believe how excited she was. From watching her, I'd have thought she was just intimidated and overwhelmed, but I can see now she was observing and cataloguing everything that was being done so she could try them on her own.
It's so strange for me, transporting her to preschool, dance, a friend's house for a movie night. She has a life of her own that has absolutely nothing to do with me. I felt like a starfish before, several branches from my body that were a part of me but moved independently - my life, Dano's, Lilah's. But now hers feels severed somehow. She dresses herself, has her own opinions about food, activities, and friends. It isn't a bad feeling. In fact, I'm overjoyed that somehow we've managed to equip her well for her own life out in the world. She handles new situations without separation anxiety and she has several tools for dealing with her anxieties, observing quietly and yoga breathing, using her words when friends make her mad or don't play "her" way. Everything I worry about for her - kindergarten, her first overnight at a friend's house - she's proving herself everyday to be such a capable little one. She feels safe enough to act out with Dano and I because she knows we'll love her always and she can try out new or naughty things and gauge our reactions. Around other children and adults she handles herself like the sweet, polite, smart girl I know she is.
I caught her and hugged her the other day, telling her with a kiss on the head that she looked and behaved like a grown-up lady these days. She kissed me back.
"Yeah, but I'll always your little baby."
1 comment:
This was a joy to read. It really got me thinking about how my own mother must have viewed my growth and development as a child. I remember those early classes (no dance for me, but piano, swimming, reading groups) and they were often so frustrating but also very rewarding. Lilah will look back on this time with fondness, too. :)
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