Ballet Moms

When Esmae suggested playing "Mommies," Xanthe said, "Yeah! And we have to set up our ballet studio. Because moms go to ballet." The two little moms proceeded to play in their ballet studio, teaching their dolls to dance. As the girls did their leaps and gallops, I reflected on the moms who taught me ballet. I thought about Clytie, who taught me for many years, and who still teaches my girls. As kids, we only saw Clytie in her teacher role. Once in awhile, an ambulance or fire truck would go by the studio, its siren wailing. Clytie would look nervously at her watch, and we students would see a glimpse of the mom in our teacher, wondering where her children were as the sirens screamed by. Now I do the exact same thing.

Xanthe's ballet teacher took a moment yesterday to tell me how much she loves Xanthe. Xanthe was at the ballet recital rehearsals just two weeks after we got her home three years ago. Her teacher, Lisa, remembers that quiet 13-pound one-year-old. She got tears in her eyes when she told me how special Xanthe is, and how far she has come. These are the moms whom our girls emulate. Marianne, who could become a mom at any moment, and still teaches class. Julie, who made Ruby feel so comfortable last year as a broken-armed buffoon. Sarah, who has hundreds of little girls who all think they're her favorite. Jennifer, Golda's pointe teacher, whom Golda admires already. Clytie, always quick to praise our accomplishments and bring out the best in each girl.

I'm thankful that moms go to ballet. If my girls grow up to be just like their dance teachers, I will feel like they have succeeded. Teaching their dolls first position is just the first step.