Full contact ballet

When I found out I was pregnant with my eldest daughter, I remember thinking...um....what do I do with a girl? I'm so not girly. Then I thought, maybe she'll be like me. Not girly but not quite "pat" like either. I'm her mother. Of course she'd be like me. How could she not?

Wrong. Very easily.

She's girly. She loves dresses. She prefers strappy sandals over sneakers. She's not the most coordinated, but she looks cute. That works for her.

It doesn't work for me. I accept her girly side. When she gets older, I'm going to have to send her to my sister and my sister in law when my girly levels get depleted. Although not overly girly, both sisters do girly better than I do. I don't think I've even painted my fingernails since the century changed. Honestly. So I am okay with her girly vibe. I'm not okay with the "I'm cute but not coordinated" thing. I was an athlete. I thought she might be one, also. My worst nightmare was that she would want to be a bubbly cheerleader. Now that I see the depths of her uncoordination, I would be elated for her to be a cheerleader.

In the meantime, we've agreed upon ballet. It's girly and she wears a tutu, but it's also hard work. It requires a lot of strength and coordination. It's a great compromise. I suggested soccer, but she turned me down. So, ballet it is.

Tomorrow is the open house for the new ballet studio. She is performing during the Open House. So today, at the age of 5, we left her with the ballet instructor for almost 3 hours, to prepare for this grand opening.

And when I got there, this is what I found:

I am admittedly a semi-perfectionist at times. I was just as upset that now during her performance and pictures she'll look like she's been training with Iron Mike as I am about the bruise itself.

Apparently, this is the second time..in a row... that she's come home with a bruise from ballet. I mean really. I remember bleeding blistering toes, but my princess of uncoordination has taken ballet to a whole new level.

I guess at this rate, I'll be happy if she can walk in a straight line in a parade as a pom-pom girl.