As a child, dance was a HUGE part of my life. Tap, jazz, ballet, lyrical...you name it, I danced it. I started out at 4 and kept going right through college. There is something about dancing that is very natural for me. In college, as a theatre major, I took lots of dance classes and performed, but never felt quite as comfortable on the stage as an actor as I did as a dancer. At the same time, I knew I wasn't ever going to be a professional dancer. I didn't have the discipline. It was in the two year hiatus that I took from dancing between my senior year of high school and my sophomore year of college that I reached my highest weight. Pictures from that "era" are the ones I used to motivate myself to lose the original weight I gained (far more than the "Freshman 15" people joke about).
Fast forward to my oldest daughter. The pride and joy I felt when she asked at 5 to take dance lessons. I was more excited than she was. We got her tights and leotard and little ballet slippers and signed her up. She did a year of ballet, then 2 years of tap and ballet, then a year of tap and hip hop and she knew (we all knew) that dancing was not for her. It killed me that she didn't want to stick with it, but I refused to be that parent that forces an activity on their child just because it was one that I had done.
Fast forward again to my wee one. We had her signed up for "gymnastics" from the time she was 18 months until this past May. One day we went to a make-up class and she saw the tiny dancers in the other room. That was it. She wanted NOTHING to with gymnastics, she wanted to dance. This was different then when her sister wanted to dance. This was serious. This was "putting my foot down despite only being 2.5 I will NOT do gymnastics anymore I want to dance" serious. I immediately asked at the place where we were taking gym classes if she could use some of her make-up lessons to try out their dance class. Sadly, I was rebuffed as they wanted to wait until children were at least 3.5 to start dancing there.
So, my hubs and I resolved to pull her out of the very expensive gym classes she refused to go to let alone participate in any more, take the summer off and try dance in the fall. So, last week she and I went to the studio open house. So many smiles and such joy, yes from both of us. I hadn't realized how much I missed the studio until we walked in and saw all of my oldest's previous teachers. My little one met her teacher, tried on shoes, got to dance around. We are both happy at this point. When it is time to sign up they ask "Are you doing the pre-school combo or Mom and Child?" Her little ears perk up and she says "Mom?" I explain the 2 classes and she states she wants to dance with me. We decide to go home and talk to Daddy. Four days in a row, "Which class do you want to take honey, just you and your fiends?" "No thanks, me and Mommy." So last night we signed up for Mom and Child.
I now this pre-story is a bit lengthy but the whole point of it (other then the sheer joy of seeing another one of my babies want to dance) is NOW I HAVE TO BE ON A STAGE AGAIN!!!! WHAT! Wait, how did this happen?!?! I have been saying of late how bad I have been about my workouts, how inconsistent. With friends and former friends being involved in the same studio, being present at recitals and such...can you think of a better motivator to get off my butt and moving? I can't. Especially when I think of the former friends. I have that deep, dark "I know we aren't friends anymore so it's really important when I see you again that I look better and more pulled together than you" feeling that is present in so many movies about people going back to their high school reunions.
I mean, this studio does a Christmas Show. CHRISTMAS! That is only 4 short months away. I know that for the most part, no one will be paying any attention to me on that stage...not when surrounding by adorable 2-3 year olds...but for those few...I need to be at my best. Look out world, this girl has got a fire under her butt. I just hope we (the parents) don't end up like this: