Tiny dancer

One of the first things I did as a new stay at home mom was to sign Big A up for a dance class. As a working mom, extracurriculars can be tricky. There is the element of time - i.e., having less of it, and there is also the fact that there just isn't the variety of activities available to the working parent. Many classes are held during the day, creating a logistical impossibility.

So I was thrilled to claim a Wednesday afternoon dance class spot, and so was Big A. At the first class, my friend and I peered through the window, to catch a glimpse of our girls at their first "big girl" class where parents didn't participate. As we craned our necks, an employee came over and offered to let us go in. "No, no," we protested, "we're not *those* mothers." (ha ha). She leaned in conspiratorially and said "Yeah, its usually the working mothers who want to go in. Must be the guilt." Ouch.


I didn't say anything at the time, but her off-hand comment only confirmed the opinion of many out there, that working mothers are wracked with guilt for daring to hold down a job. As a working mom, I personally tried not to give in to the guilt. Working put a roof over my kids' head and they never lacked for love, so why bother? Men don't seem to get any guilt for working, and in fact, are practically given medals for spending time with their kids outside of work. Double standards for sure.


But I digress...dance. Seriously, there really isn't much cuter than a 3 year old in a dance outfit. The little tummies sticking out, the cute pigtails, the sheer joy on their faces. Watching my daughter through that square of glass, I felt proud. My shy little girl was participating with a huge smile on her face, skipping and running and pushing to the front of the line.


Finally, after 7 weeks, we came to today - the "recital." Parents and grandparents were invited to the last class to watch. Big A's dad and I, as well as her grandmother and little sis came to proudly cheer her on. The girls (and one boy) lined up to warm up and everyone followed the teacher's instructions...except Big A. She sat still, staring at her cheering squad with a big grin on her face. I felt like a pageant mom as I frantically mimed the motions to try to get her to join in to no avail. It was hard not to laugh and hubby kept elbowing me to be quiet. Finally, the teacher intervened and Big A got to join her in front of the class. This prompted her to participate, but each time she made a move, she would look back at us with a goofy smile. J (the hubs) whispered that I should put a paper bag on my head as I was throwing her off. Can I help it if my daughter is a Mommy-stalker?


After another half hour of cuteness (they sang "How much is that doggy in the window?" and waggled their hineys to mimic the tail....squeeee), the class was over.


I've signed her up for the next session and I'm already looking forward to her next "recital." I may go in camouflage next time...or hell, I may just join in and wiggle my own hiney.