Good Recovery

Disappointment...last week was the first time I felt this emotion about my daughter. It was unwarranted and actually really immature and stupid of me to feel this way in the situation...but still...it was there.

J is an extremely outgoing little girl.  She likes to put on "shows" with her cousin during family dinners and is usually the "loudest" singer in her class shows.  But last week, something was different.  We had a small stepping up program from her class - they were to perform 3 or 4 songs and just look adorable.  I knew every word to these songs because that's pretty much all she would sing around the house for weeks.  She knew these songs. I was so excited to see her perform with her friends.

And then the performance came - lots and lots of people filled her classroom (more than are typically there for performance) - I made Mike leave work and come because she's usually such a "star" at these things.  First song...great - in Chinese nonetheless! Then the kids started melting down and then J melted down.  And then I f**ed up.  She came running to me with tears and instead of saying "don't worry about it - you're doing great." I said something along the lines of "Look at all your friends singing. Why aren't you up there with them?" Her tears kept coming. She stayed on my lap for the remainder of the show. And I was disappointed. Not my best parenting moment that's for sure.

After it ended, Mike (the better parent in this situation) told her how proud he was of her and how great she did.  And she smiled. I looked at him like he was crazy and then he and my friend pulled me aside and told me (in not such nice words) that I was the crazy one and I should get myself in check. She is three years old. He was right. I was wrong.

Yesterday was her ballet recital.  Mike couldn't come so I was going to be the only parent there, so I knew I had to be better. And I was nervous for her.  Nervous that she would get too scared to perform.  But this time, I was confident that I would be proud of her no matter what.  And of course, since I was so worried, she gave her best performance. She danced beautifully. Followed the teacher's every instruction. From plies to first position to pointed toes.  She was a perfect, graceful ballerina.  And I teared up with pride as I watched her.  And this time I told her over and over how great she did and how proud I am of her.

I'm hoping that my little bout with disappointment doesn't rear it's ugly head again...well, at least until she does dumb teenage things.