Violet and Sarah are both in the ballet, The Nutcracker, this Christmas. Violet was an angel before, and this year she's a polichinelle. (I have no idea. Kind of like a cute clown.) Sarah is an angel. I'm one of the parents. On stage. Dancing. (I'll wait for the laughter to die down.)
The girls who dance in the same scene as me are the 'party girls' and all the angels watch them and wait for the day that they are old enough to be one. They are on stage when the curtain first opens, dance with dolls, see the Nutcracker, dance with Clara.
This year Violet is just old enough to be a 'party girl.' At try outs she kept wondering if perhaps she'd get two parts - polichinelle and party girl.
She got one. And that one is not 'party girl.'
Two of her dance friends? Two parts. Party girl among them.
Violet handled it so amazingly well. She was a little confused, we talked about how this is the first year her class is old enough to be in the scene, and Ava and Abby are the only two who were pulled out for it. She nodded and the next time she saw them told them how cool it was and hasn't said a thing since.
I see them at practice. And while we have a lot of fun in practice, at the last one I was overcome by such a sadness.
Ava and Abby were there. Violet wasn't. And I think she is just as good a dancer as they are.
I know, I know. I'm her mom, I'm supposed to think this. But I'm very honest about her abilities.
I know that she is a good technical swimmer but one of the slowest on the team. I know that in softball she is super at hitting and running, but can't field a ball.
So it was very, very difficult to watch practice the other day. I adore these two little girls. We've danced with them since the girls were five. But I found myself critiquing. What did they do that Violet didn't? What didn't they do that Violet did?
Then I remembered that Violet got that terrible virus right after try outs.
So I felt better.
For about 10 seconds.
Then I remembered that this isn't about me.
Violet seems to be totally fine with the way things are at this point. She doesn't get sad when I leave for practice without her. She's happy to see me when I get home, asks if I had fun, what did I learn, etc. She's excited about her part, what her costume will look like and what new dance she'll be learning.
It's not about me.
So why does it feel like it is?
Was I honestly thinking it was some sort of reflection on my parenting that she didn't get the part? That if I'd put her in the jazz class year like we'd talked about she would have gotten a 'party girl' part. Only I didn't do that. So . . . fail. So .. . yes. Reflection on my parenting.
But. This is about Violet. And she's happy with her part, excited.
So why must I, even in my mind, want more, better, best for her? Can't this be enough for her? Everyone can't be the lead, their has to be chorus dancers.
I don't know.
This isn't about me.
Except my brain and heart kept making it that way.