The time comes...

...where you run thru a hallway to get to the arena to watch your 6 year old tap her heart out to the Disney version of Mambo #5 and you find yourself crying.  You have tears in your eyes while she taps her llittle heart out and you know she isn't doing the steps like a skilled tap dancer would, but you are crying none the less.

Let's back up to this prior weekend.  My sweet, adorable, drama-queen, talking back expert, awesome little girl had her second dance recital.  Being that I'm that mom, I volunteered to be the class mom since I had the day off and I hadn't gotten many chances to volunteer for other things since I work all of the dang time. So we set off Saturday to first grab McDonald's for lunch then head over to recital practice.  I know better than to not feed my dramatic child before we do anything. She will act like she hasn't eaten in months if I didn't.  So we had an early lunch and then headed over to the rehearsal.

It was a madhouse there.  The civic center they were having it at had guaranteed the dance company's owner they could get it at 10 AM.  It was 12:30 before they let them in, the time the mom's were told to have the children there for recital practice.  We muddled thru it and it went as quickly as it could go.  We finally got out of there and headed home.

Sunday (recital day) I got up and hand curled my child's stubborn hair because she was destraught the day before thatn Cailey, Kaley, and Kallee's hair were all curled and hers wasn't.  My child's hair is bone straight, as if I flat ironed it every hour on the hour and it never ever got wet and it wasn't humid as the dickens down here in South Louisiana.    I get her make up done as well, because that was something else she groaned about the day before at rehearsal.  Ok check check, and CHECK!

We finally set out to the recital two hours+ before it was due to start.  That's the time we were told to be there, so we were.  Almost all of the class showed up on time, minus one child.  I won't get into how that mom thought it was OK to show up with her child 20 minutes before the recital started.  Whatever!   Ok so one of my jobs as class mom was to line the girls up in line as they were to perform.  I had to stay with the girls in a hall way in the back to ensure they remained quiet and in order while others were dancing on stage. So when it came time to get on stage, I had to put those little jerks princesses on stage. I was so ver their fighting and my child's jealousy at that time.  I would compliment one of the other 23 girls in her class and she immediately wanted to hold my hand or hug me or give me a kiss.  I proceeded to tell my husband that night we had to have another child and STAT!  The jealousy thing has to go like 1999!

So I get the jerks on stage and run (and I mean shoes off so I don't slip, fat girl run) down the hall to get to the arena to see my child dance. I paid all that money after all, by golly I want to see her butt dance!  I find a spot to sit at and proceed to wait for the curtain to be pulled back.  There she is, smiling huge and her eyes searching for me.  She won't see me but she knows her daddy and I are out there somewhere watching her.  She is in her stance and the music starts.  Her hips start shaking and she starts her dance, the dance we have practiced every day for the last 2 weeks to ensure she knows what she is doing.  She is dancing her heart out and smiling away.  She never once looked to the side curtains to see what steps she should be doing.

I felt something wet on my hands in my lap.  I realize that I am crying at this point, because I am so proud of her. She is up there just radiating everything I know to be true about her--her sweet demeanor that gives me a foot rub if I say I had a long day, the times she saves her red starbursts for me because she knows I love them, or how she runs up to me and screams my name when I come home after not seeing her for a day or two due to my work schedule.

Every frustrated bedtime, every time she gets a tiny scratch and needs a band aid, every time she swears she isn't hungry and won't eat but devours whatever I'm trying to eat (that is usually the last bit of it and I've been salivating over it all day)---it's all worth it at that point.

I  have to treasure every second with her.  You know why--because one day she will morph into an obnoxious little brat that is 14 and wants to move out and hates me--all because I won't let her have the newest iphone or date some boy who I think belongs on American Most Wanted.


So I sit and cry at her dancing to Mambo #5 in a Mickey costume with a bright smile because I'll never ever get that moment back in life.