Still reeling from a totally fun and exhausting weekend. We celebrated Carson’s dance recital, Campbell’s third birthday, and Mother’s Day. Good stuff…

I decided on Saturday that there must be some statute like Dance Law No. 405: Thou shalt have at least one class dance “Rock Around the Clock” in pink poodle shirts at each year-end recital. Failure to comply with said ordinance may result in revocation of license. Too funny. I took dancing well over twenty years ago, and I’m happy to say that very little has changed in the world of dance recitals: the dancers are still not as synchronized and precise as you might prefer, many of the same songs are still playing, and the costumes are still bright and fun (I love dance costumes! And my girls do too). So I’m thankful that in 2008 in Flotown my dancin’ queen can dance to “I Feel Good” and “Best of Friends” without somebody tryin’ to dress her up like a tramp and make her dance to songs that are totally inappropriate. That ticks me off…

So my Carson did her thing. During the year, she’s not all that jazzed about dancing each week, but she loves to perform. She’s not terribly outgoing, but she can light up a stage. I think she dances well, but I am totally drawn to her smile. Her joy illuminates her little body, and I cannot think of any other thing that induces that smile. It is when she is dancing on stage that I most see myself in her; I remember feeling what I see on her face. I feel it again as I watch her, and as her mom I actually lose my breath as her audience. The pride swells in me so as to fill every inch, forcing the air from my lungs to make more room, and I am totally taken by her…