The kind of mom who waits.

  

This is my view this morning.  Sitting in front of the closed door to my daughter’s ballet class…..for the next hour…..because I can’t move…..because she’s crying……and I’m her mom.  Here’s how this happened, not the me being her mom part (that happened about 5 years ago) the part where I’m stuck sitting in a little, teeny, tiny hallway for the next hour staring at a closed door.

I have worked Saturday mornings for about the last 15 year’s.  Until one month ago.  My schedule magically changed and now I’m a Monday through Friday kind of gal.  That means that I’m free Saturday mornings which is a total dream come true because now I get to take my girl to her ballet class.  I get to pick out which pink tights she wears, put her hair in a bun and slide in a couple of sparkly bobby pins.  I’ve done this once so far, here’s how my little beauty looks.  

This was a couple of weeks ago and I told Danny that it was one of the best mornings of my life…..I didn’t have to work, I got to play dress up with my sweetie (which I never get to do because I leave for work at 5 in the morning), I dropped her off at class and then I walked down by the waterfront and drank a coffee.  It was simply wonderful.  The next couple of weeks we were gone in vegas for one of her classes, I filled in at work another day, and so today is only the second day I get to do the ballet routine.  

I was so excited to do the whole magical thing all over again.  Buuuuuut, this morning when we got up, Isla was surprised to see me because it’s still new for me to be home in the mornings and everything went downhill in a 4 year old kind of way, from there.  We woke up early, couldn’t find her pet purse, then couldn’t get dressed without a million tears because isla Did. Not. Want. To. Go.    I had to literally pull the jammies off her, stuff her cute little legs into tights, and slick her hair back into a frizzy pony tail, no sparkly bobby pins were going to make it today. 

My poor baby cried the whole way to class, but the worse part about it is that she always tries so hard to be BRAVE.  It’s one of the things I both love love and hate about these moments and here’s why.  My girl loves dance class, she never cries, and I know she’s not crying because of going to the class, she’s crying because her mom is with her and she doesn’t want to leave me.  I remember having the exact same feelings for my mom. 

In fact, in 1st grade, I remember playing in my classroom by the door and hearing my mom’s voice in  hallway.  She was chaperoning my older sister’s class on a field trip, and hearing her voice and being apart from her was more than I could bear.  I looked around, saw my teacher across the room, and ran for it!  Out into the hallway, up the stairs, and into my mother’s arms.  Thankfully my mom was the best kind of mom, the kind that took her crying girl into her arms and instead of sending her back to class, let me skip and go to the flight museum with her.  I’ll never forget it.

So today, when we finally got to ballet, with my brave, quiet girl who had teary salt stains on her cheeks, I sent her in and hugged her.  I kissed those tear tracks, and went to stand in the hallway.  I had my running outfit on because I had thought that I would take these 45 minutes and enjoy the fresh air and use it for training for this ridiculous marathon I signed up for, but instead I stood in the hallway for just a minute.  

Then, just like I had expected, I saw my baby peek around the doorframe looking to see if I had left.  I smiled at her and then sat down on the vinyl couch right outside the door where she could see me.  

And here I’ve been.  They close the door once the class starts, but I said I would stay here, and stay here I have.  I’ve listened to Caspar Babypants sing “Sleepyhead” (their recital song) about 36 times, right now I can hear 18 little tap shoes going like crazy.  I didn’t run, I didn’t get a coffee or see the Puget Sound in all its glory on this sunny day……I just saw this white door that leads to classroom B.  But I know, that at 10:00am when it opens and I see Isla’s face, I’ll know that this door was the best view in the world this morning.  Why? Because I’m trying to be the kind of mom that stays, just in case my girl checks.  Just like my mom.  

♡ A rather lucky mom

2 thoughts on “The kind of mom who waits.

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