The Big Show(s)!

Over a month ago, my tiny daughters celebrated their accomplishments in dance and gymnastics with shows and recitals.  These events all occurred on the same day.  Which maybe sounds like no big deal.  Unless you have young children and understand the potential for three- and six-year-old Total. Meltdown. Disaster.  I made sure that we took these events one at a time, which helped.  By the end of the night, Rudy was an unconscious heap in a sailor-dress-tutu, slumped on my lap in the auditorium where her sister was slowly and dramatically tiptoeing across the stage with her arms in first position.  So, in the end, a success.

A few days before Saturday, June 16th, Marley and Rudy had rehearsals for their tap, ballet, and jazz routines.  Before and after those practices, we had time to pose for a professional photographer (and fellow kindergarten bus stop mom) who was there to capture dancers in the recital costumes they'd been anticipating for months.  And I basically said to my daughters, you know what, ladies?  Let's get your pictures taken in your regular old practice leotards.  That did not go over well, but I still prepared them with full hair (fancy ballerina buns created with the aid of hidden mesh doughnuts) and make-up (stage-mandated blue eyeshadow with blush, and lipstick), and that level of fanciness helped to soften the boring blow.  So.  Those two little ladies in their simple black leotards with the gauzy pale pink skirts?  Classic and precious.  I will take that as a win.

Early Saturday morning, we got Marley ready for her gymnastics show.  Next year, she'll take gymnastics twice a week, and she claims that she'll be a gymnast in college.  Maybe not, but right now, I believe her.  That kid has a stomachful of visible muscles that is astounding to see.  Friends and family often remark on Beanie's six-pack.  It's actually an eight-pack.  Really, we're all just jealous.

After Marley's show, we came home for an early lunch and some enforced quiet time.  Eventually, we had to get Rudy ready for her gym show, at which she surprised us all by actually performing with her classmates and peers, including Emma, who goes to the same gym on a different day.  I was so proud of my little Toot, especially because I had watched her through most of the year while her teachers were either imploring her to listen and follow directions or smiling at her ridiculousness. 

And then we went home for more enforced quiet time and an early dinner.  All too soon, I had what felt like minutes to fluff the white tulle tutus and pull out the mesh doughnuts for buns.  After a quick portrait session on the front steps to officially capture those costumes for posterity, we were off for the third, and fanciest, show of the day.

Rudy barely danced.  She seemed almost distracted by the steps her classmates around her were doing, as if she couldn't believe where she was and that we were watching.  Sometimes she would try a pointed toe or a spin and then sort of flop her arms as though she were exhausted or inconvenienced.  Mostly, she looked over at us and smiled.  As we had practiced for days at home and at rehearsal and meeting eyes in the rearview mirror.  Big, proud smiles that I insisted were for me, Todd insisted were for him, and Heather and Danielle insisted were for them.  We all wanted, so badly, to be the one who had made Rudy so happy and cute and awesome.  I swear, she looked at me and smiled the same way during her rehearsals.  But I also admit, after Heather explained that she and Danielle were not only smiling from their seats (behind ours) but also waving their arms like maniacs and encouraging Riley, Owen, and Emma to stand up and wave glowsticks, that Rudy was, obviously, smiling at them.

And then there was Marley.  So sassy and proud, with smiles that were as big as her sister's, and dance steps that were way more precise and correct and coordinated.  She tapped to the Beach Boys' "California Girls," she jazz-handed Hairspray's "You Can't Stop the Beat," and she plied and arabesqued through "Don't Cry for Me Argentina."  It was Marley's third dance recital, a spectacle as special as her first and as earnest as her second.  That little lady is a dancer, and I may be going to these recitals for a while.  Which means more precise buns and blue eyeshadow.  Marley is not who I had imagined seven years ago while I was pregnant (see #2 in UPDATE!), but she is my girl and I'm lucky to have her and love her, all of her drama and spirit and grace.