I laughed! I cried! I'd pay another $828!

I'm still frazzled. Today was my 8-year-old daughter's first dance recital. And she did so well that I'm getting a little sniffly just thinking about it! I am so proud of her. Miss Moira is an independent soul, known for her free-spirit, her devil-may-care spunk. Her typical speed is Mach 10, but put her on a soccer or t-ball field and you might as well have slipped her a Xanax. In general, the world just doesn't go fast enough for Miss Moira. She's a busy little bee. (Yes, there are loads of parents who think their child is the inspiration for that pink, drum-beating bunny, but they've never met Moira. She's that wabbit's muse.)

Which is why a few years ago when we tried kiddie soccer, I was truly baffled at her lack of interest. All her buddies (along with the ball) would be at one end of the field while Moira would be laying in the grass at the other end, counting the blades or staring at the clouds, or simply running for the sidelines groaning, "I'm tired." WHAT?!?! So we tried t-ball, and again, kicking in the dirt, picking her nose, wearing her glove on her head, waving to fans. She simply couldn't be bothered with this sports business.

So after she finished last summer's t-ball season, I asked if she'd like to try dance. Yup. So, since September, every Monday we'd travel to dance class where I'd sit in the observation hallway and cringe as Miss Moira would float off and press her mug against the two-sided mirrors to make faces at me. Cute, initially, but soon got old.

I love my daughter, more than any word or phrase could express, and I would never want her to be anyone, but her crazy, nutso self, but I can't lie. It's not fun sitting on the sidelines and watching your kid shoot off into la-la land EVERY class/practice/match/game. I hate that I get so frustrated. I am a believer in wanting my children to be whoever THEY want to be, and if people are going to judge me according to my childrens' successes or failures, they can bite me!

I don't need Moira to be some superstar, I'd just like her to participate. And she struggled to pay attention in dance and I could see how her frenetic pace grated on the instructor (a whole different story), but a shift occurred. Some time in February, Moira started to appear interested in dance and I saw her gain focus.

And when she took the stage, first for the ballet routine, and later, for the tap, she did a really nice job. I totally started crying. Were the routines memorized to perfection? Heck, no! But it was beautiful and worth all the driving and time and money involved. It makes me think of those schmaltzy Master Card commercials:

8 months of tuition=$224
1,920 miles of driving=$300

Tap shoes, ballet slippers, leotards, tights, and a costume=$160

Professional photos and a DVD copy of the show=$60

Recital tickets for 12=$84

Watching your daughter tap and arabesque her heart out=Priceless