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| Kalina in dance class. |
The other day Kalina and I were listening to some lovely classical music while coloring. "Just a second, Mommy, I have to go dance," she told me before twirling around on the rug. I've posted about ballet before (see January), so you can probably already picture this.
Kalina was soon placed just left of center in the line of dancers for her class's performance piece (Bippidi Boppidi Boo from Cinderella, which happens to be the only Disney princess movie suitable for a 4-year-old)--a fact that I interpreted to mean she's really good. Which she is. She watches her teacher and can generally follow along, and in Predance 1, you don't really need more than that to stand out (other girls chose more negative methods, which I would sneakily ask Kalina about after every class).
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At the dress rehearsal, waiting for
their turn. |
Soon, Bippidi Boppidi Boo was running through my head day and night, and apparently Kalina's and Elise's, too, because they've both been singing it frequently. And getting the lyrics wrong, I might add--it's pretty cute. They have also each independently asked me for their own fairy godmother. I am not one, so, much to their disappointment, I couldn't grant this wish.
I got to watch Kalina make progress each month during observation, and then sometimes every day as she practiced. I also learned the dance, as did Elise, who learned the hard way not to get in the way of Kalina's wand. For some reason Matt never did (or at least never admitted to).
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| Isn't she great? |
We did have at least one mishap: the ribbon from Kalina's wand unraveled in the middle of their routine one time during an observation class. I didn't notice the wand--I only saw my girl barely succeeding in choking back tears (a skill I have to commend her for, honestly, because she certainly never did that in the first 3 1/2 or 4 years of her life). As I rushed to her side, I did notice the wand and as I consoled her, her teacher noticed too. Soon a triumphant Kalina was being upheld as an example for what to do if something goes wrong on stage: just keep dancing! This became a mantra of sorts at our house.
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| Kalina's excited audience! |
Kalina's success has been due to her own hard work--but we should give at least a little credit to an enthusiastically supportive little sister, who mimics her every move (or tries her best to) and encourages her big sister in every way a 2 1/2-year-old can. It had been strongly recommended to me that I not attempt to bring Elise to the performance--"it's just too long for little ones! Take her to the dress rehearsal instead!" But the girls were adamant: this arrangement would break both of their little hearts. Elise desperately wanted to see her sister dance in the real performance, and Kalina desperately wanted her sister to be there. We arranged a system in which Grandpa Tom would take Elise out when she needed to go home for bed.
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The star of the show and her
flowers! |
The last month or so of class time was devoted mostly to recital happenings (to my minor annoyance), and Kalina moved gradually from quite nervous ("What if I mess up?") to mostly excited. All the moms learned, more or less, how to do a high bun in an unwilling 3- or 4-year-old's hair (not sure who enjoyed that experience less--the moms or the girls). And then, after a "dress parade" and a dress rehearsal, it was performance time.
Grandpa Les and Grandma, who didn't want to miss the show, traveled down from Minnesota for a long weekend (and a happy 10th anniversary for Mommy and Daddy, and a happy Father's Day!). We all, along with Grandpa Tom, found seats in the front row of the balcony--which turned out to be a good thing as Elise had plenty of room to squirm, and wasn't the only one who occasionally forgot to whisper.
I'd gotten Kalina prepared in the large dressing room earlier, and torn myself away from my slightly nervous--but mostly brave--little ballerina, having been on vacation when the signup sheet for "helper mommy" was posted. What was she most scared about now? That Mommy and family wouldn't be in the audience watching her! Poor thing, I think it's hard for her to comprehend how much it'd take to get us to miss it. I think we both blinked back a tear or two, but another kind mother had given Kalina a Mento, and in the midst of all the chaos, she placidly watched me leave. We've come a long, long, long, long way, haven't we? I have been traded for a Mento.
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| Early birthday brownies! |
Shortly afterward, Elise was perched on my lap and we were counting down the minutes until the show started. Fortunately, Kalina's class was third on the program, because Elise carefully searched for her sister in each piece (whispering frequently: "But I don't see Kalina!"), and probably wouldn't have lasted long if she hadn't spotted her soon. Thank goodness the little girl could pick her big sister out in an identical high-bun Cinderella crowd, from the balcony. Or at least she thought she could--good enough.
It's quite a feeling when your tiny little 4 1/2 (nearly 5)-year-old marches onto the stage, adorable and confident, and gives it her all. Her actions were confident and enthusiastic, the mishap of having her wand accidentally stick to another Cinderella's was quickly fixed, and by her own admission, she belted out the "Bippidi boppidi boos" louder than any other girl (I think we really could hear her even from the balcony). She seemed to be quite enjoying herself, and she was quite good.
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Birthday Girl's Sister gets a
present, too--a purple pony
she will love forever (she told
us). |
There were more than 2 hours of performances, with dozens and dozens of dancers. But my mommy bias has rationalized that Kalina herself--my own little girl--was the star of the show (a truth I can justify logically, just ask me sometime! I dare you.).
But the second star was sitting far from the stage (only because we weren't crazy enough to get in the line for seats an hour before the performance). Almost as important as a star of the show is a star of the audience. From the beginning of the performance, I enjoyed watching Elise almost as much as Kalina. The girl was riveted for nearly the first hour. I caught a whispered, dreamy: "I just love ballet! I wish I could take ballet lessons!" "You may, when you're a bit bigger," I whispered back. "Oh, good!" she beamed at me before turning back to the show. Her favorite part, other than Kalina? The music, she said. But I imagine she also liked the colorful lights and costumes.
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Kalina and Grandma work on her
fairy house craft. |
Elise sat on my lap almost the whole time, switching to Grandpa Tom for a portion (to Mommy's lap's relief--it's a little crowded there nowadays, especially when both little girls are fidgety). We kept asking her if she wanted Grandpa Tom to take her home, or if she'd rather stay--the answer was always the same. But after the last dance was danced, and they'd started in on the loooong credits, Elise happily allowed herself to be carried off by Grandpa, and then put to bed, long after her usual bedtime, but still earlier--and drier (they very narrowly avoided a massive downpour on the walk to the car)--than the rest of us. The rest of us yearned to join them, Kalina included, I'm sure.
Finally, we were rushing toward the stage to scoop up our own little Cinderella and help her enjoy her success. She was overjoyed at the beautiful flowers Daddy and Grandpa Les had picked out for her (including a couple purple blooms for Elise to see when she woke up the next morning), and not at all whiny about the looong wait she'd had to endure after her performance (she wasn't allowed to see the rest of the show, but did have to appear in the finale). What a trooper!
And what a success! When you consider she had to not only remember her dance routine (with a little help from her teacher), but also appear on a bright stage to an audience of hundreds, with virtually only strangers for support--I'm not sure I could've done it! But if you ask her, she'll tell you she loved it.
Will she continue? She's not sure--she doesn't like changing clothes and the fact that her hair feels funny when I take her ponytail out after class. Hmmm. Do I tell her that those aren't exactly real reasons, or do I let them conveniently excuse us from next year's high bun (or whatever they think up for us?).
Although there won't be a high bun next year in any case--we've potentially located a simpler place that we'd take her to instead. Several other moms from her current ballet class have asked for the number--it turns out that many moms share my dread of bobby pins and hair gel on their little girls, and would rather focus on simple fun than stardom. I'm pretty sure Kalina will agree.
Meanwhile, Kalina has started piano lessons with her preschool music teacher for the summer, and perhaps the fall, and then eventually full-time (once Mommy has her energy back from the impending newborn). She loves it, as evidenced by her 35- or 40-minute attention span at her first lesson, a feat that barely surprised her mommy, but I believe astounded her teacher.
It fascinates me that Kalina is already making good progress. She's a lovely little student: she soaks up the one-on-one attention, engages and participates, and incorporates her vivid imagination. She loves her lessons, and even willingly practices--for now.
But again, we'd be remiss not to mention Elise, who has taken it upon herself to begin piano lessons, and has already successfully copied Kalina's finger positioning. When do you start a 2 1/2-year-old who has already started herself? During Kalina's lessons she watches intently, participates in conversation and munches her snack. "Un-involved" is simply not part of Elise's vocabulary. One of these days, I imagine, she'll sit down and play us a song.
And finally, a lesson that I didn't attend, but heard about later and thought was well worth noting. Grandpa Les used to coach girls' softball! So with my girls practicing their throwing, he pitched right in (pun intended).
Elise had the habit of throwing a ball at about a 45-degree angle from where she intended it to go. So Grandpa Les carefully showed Elise how to step with one foot and throw with the other. They practiced, and sure enough, the ball went straighter!
But some things are lost on a 2-year-old, who does not yet know the value of throwing straight. The girl looked straight at Grandpa and said, "Now I'm going to do it without all that stuff." And she happily went back to her original methods.
You can teach, they can learn, but will they use what they learn? I'll tell you in 20 years.
When you suspect you're in labor the first time, you drink plenty of water, time contractions, rest up and Facebook your friends. When it's the third time around, you put in a load of laundry, run the dishwasher, straighten the house a bit, put fresh batteries in the camera, finish prepping the carseat and pack your hospital bag (after all, the baby wasn't supposed to come until the weekend). So it wasn't until my head hit the pillow at 10:30 that I paid much attention to the fact that contractions were coming every 4-5 minutes.
But the baby wasn't supposed to come until Saturday! Why do I keep mentioning this? Because both of my previous deliveries happened at about 39 weeks, laboring on Friday night and delivering on a Saturday. Like clockwork. This would've put me in labor on my birthday, I should add.
She has dark brown hair, very dark blue eyes, very light eyelashes and--most surprising--a dimple on each cheek! But where did they come from?
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