The Mom who cries

I've had a lot of nicknames in my life.

Mang.
Mang Face.
Mangy.
Manga.
Baby Gorilla. (thanks, Mom!)
Baby Goo (thanks, dad)
Steve
Gricer (my maiden name was Grice)
Bacon (thank you high school softball team...and spanish class)
Mandolin
Mandisa (of course)
Mandiss


Up til now, in the 31 years I've been alive I have never been called "the mom who cries", but I'm convinced it's coming. We had a first in the Pausley family last night and I am admitting to you now that I could just barely keep it together. Ballet. Our oldest daughter has been practically begging to do ballet since she was 2 years old and we had agreed if she still held onto it until she was 4, we'd consider. She hasn't quit talking about it in two years. :)

So we drove over to the adorable little ballet studio and through the chaos of dozens of leotard-clad children... got her into her class. She was so excited, so brave. And I already felt that hot sting behind my eyes. Who is this tall, lanky, skinny little girl? Because sometimes all I see is my first born daughter laying in the Boppy pillow on that first day home.

 

I watched as her teacher took the reins and let them in "first position", some tap steps and other assorted movement. My big girl was trying and focusing - I couldn't have been more proud. 

.she's the one on the far right.

And, I just started crying when I watched her try to talk to the other girls...and she didn't get a response. Some of them just looked at her and some even ignored her. Broke my heart.  I was reminded how much I need to pray for her to find just one special friend. And I need to remind her that our world is lost and needs Jesus - not to be disappointed when we don't make friends quickly. Be friendly to makes friends.

 

Ah, the momma heart. Bittersweet moments when you are SO proud of your little one for accomplishing something and growing up another year... but hurting at the same time, when you realize 5 years has almost come and gone and the clock isn't slowing down. Her arms are thinning down and the chubby baby wrists are vanishing. Be still my heart. The chubby cheeks are firming up into a beautiful, delicate big girl face.

So we've entered this stage of leotards, pink ballet slippers, tap shoes, buns, twirling and Swan Lake. 

And all the parents crammed into that teeny, tiny, waiting room have now dubbed me, "the mom who cries" as I stood in the tiny corner watching in through the window with my camera, tears in my eyes and that quivering bottom lip. But you know what, she's worth it. I cannot believe she's mine and I couldn't be more proud of how brave and strong she is.   

Little sis was not fond of this big sis having fun without her stuff. :)