My daughter went into her dance class without bows tied on her shoes. I didn’t know I was supposed to tie them so I didn’t. In the middle of the class the teacher was tying up someone else’s shoe and the kid saw her and tried to do it herself. I watched her, feeling terrible, worried that she felt embarrassed.
The teacher tied her shoes for her.
My daughter is a little girl. She loved her dresses and her tights and all things pink. She treats her dolls like her babies.
She doesn’t mind getting dirty, she likes playing with cars and trucks and she’s a big sports fan, but she’s also falling into a lot of the stereotypical girl things.
I didn’t tie her ballet shoes into nice little bows. I can’t do anything with her hair except for a ponytail or pigtails. I might be able to pull off a braid.
I watched her get her shoes tied in that class and flashed forward to all the things she’s could be that I’m not. She might want long hair that she can style, she might start wearing makeup in high school. The more she wants to have real style and look put together the less she’s going to look to me for help.
It’s a trend lately of me feeling like not quite enough for her. This girl. My girl.
I watched her in her dance class and so many thoughts ran through my head. I thought to myself how lucky can I be that this little girl loves me.
Being a stay at home mother, and one with a husband who travels almost weekly, is the hardest thing I have ever, ever done. Every day something makes me doubt that I can handle it at all.
She hangs on the outer edge of the circle, she challenges me every day. She pulls me along behind her.