Tiny Dancer

At the beginning of February, we finally enrolled Evelyn in some ballet classes here in Japan.

And as I went to share some photos of that day, I looked back for her ballet photos from Norfolk on ye olde blog.

…there were none.

What the heck? How had I neglected to share ANY photos of a year's worth of the most adorable ballet…ever?

Not even the first day?

Look how wee she was! Ack!

I mean, I made a chalkboard sign, for chrissake.

"Let's get this show on the road, Momma." 

And this?

My heart, y'all.

How did I not share this?!

I like to call this one, "Welp, here we go!"

I didn't even share the photos from that one adorable time where Daddy managed to not have to work and was her dance partner.

…I may have shed a tear or two that day.

I mean, she was still in diapers. She was so bitty. Her hair was all over the place, it felt like she had just learned to walk, let alone dance, her leotard barely stayed up on her shoulders and her tights - even in the smallest size that ballet store sold - were entirely too long for those two year old legs.

And now?

Now, that girl amazed me.

I had always intended on getting her involved in ballet again once we arrived here. 

But with deployment and unpacking and trying to get settled…it just never happened. And I would feel  pangs of guilt every time that she would ask me to watch her dance, or to help her practice her positions.

I knew she missed it. 

And though I knew the setting here was much more relaxed, and that the class was only half an hour - and that I couldn't comprehend dragging a toddler (and soon a baby) to sit still for a half hour class to watch (at 3 you no longer participate in the class as a parent, but it's not exactly a drop off and go situation either) - I knew we needed to do this for my girl. 

She missed it so.

So, we went to sign up.

And we got her dressed and squeezed her into last year's shoes, and went to class.

And she watched.

And she listened.

And she danced.

And she was filled to the brim with joy.

And so was I.


Evelyn Rae is 3.5, Liam is 2, I am 37 weeks and 1 day along with G3

…and this is what Liam does during class.

No shame in this game.

Up on the Stage

I know when I started this series about our home, I said it was going to be all bungalow posts, all the time, but I am gonna pump the brakes for a minute.

Because today was my girl's Spring Program at preschool.

She has been talking about it for weeks now. "I'm going to sing on the stage, Mommy. With all my friends, I'm going to sing on the stage for you and Daddy, and Baby Brother, and Nana, and Oma…" and on she would go, down the list of everyone who had attended her Christmas Program.

(We, um, tend to roll deep to family events these days.)

And with all that talk, I will admit, I began to worry. Because, occasionally in this toddler world we reside - weeks and weeks of excitement lead to the moment we've been anticipating being one of feeling overwhelmed and self conscious and sad. (See: Santa, or the Easter Bunny, or holiday dinners or parties, or trips to see family members, or even every day errands.)

And other times, they go off without a hitch.

It's not that this Spring Program, or the Christmas one, or anything she'll ever do - game she'll ever play in, speech she'll ever make, performance she'll ever have, book she'll ever write - will ever define her for me.

But these moments are so revelatory to me.

I have been with this girl for 99.9% of her entire life. Without hyperbole, almost every moment of her life has been by my side. I know her feelings and her thoughts on varying topics, which at this point in life are rather limited, but they are all her and her "work" as she likes to say.

At programs like this though, I get the tiny glimpses of what she is like when I am not standing beside her. The person she is when she is not in my immediate company, or even in the company of some other adult who is giving her the majority of their attention.

When she is one of the many.

And today I saw a girl who listens to her teacher and pays attention. Who patiently and enthusiastically follows directions. Who has created things. Who has practiced and rehearsed and had fun while doing it.

("Singing is my favorite work, Mommy.")

Who takes her performance seriously and sustains some serious focus. Who will break that focus to wave back and smile at her crazy family. Who loves to sing and to perform. Who does so gleefully and with every ounce of her being.

And today, I am so proud of that girl.
And so proud that I can call her mine.


Evelyn Rae is two and a half, Liam is fifteen months

…and I am so going to miss this little school that has been such a great experience for my girl.

First Day

Today, I dropped my little girl off at her very first first day of school.

Preschool, that is.

I had butterflies in my stomach and wasn't sure how I would manage maneuvering a toddler, baby and the huge bag of required supplies down the itsy bitsy corridors of our adorable school, let alone the butterflies due to watching my girl face her first big, step out into the world moment.

I wanted to be calm and cool for her though, so I faked it a bit. I held her hand and as we walked toward the door, she pointed at other little ones on their way in, exclaiming "Fwiends!" 

Little by little my faking lessened. 

She took a tumble outside on the sidewalk and scraped her knee. As she frowned a bit and asked me to pick her up...

{sure kiddo, I'll carry you and your brother and this huge bag o'stuff and hopefully not take out any of the other tiny humans running everywhere}

...I thought, "Uh oh - that's it, now she is going to lose it and all this careful build up of excitement is going to come crashing down around me."

But as we approached that sweet little classroom door, she started straining her neck to see what all the commotion was about.

And as we walked through the door, well, that was it.

She was hooked. 

"Down, Mommy" she said quietly in my ear. 

And I obliged. 

I watched her meet her teacher and walk right over to a table with puzzles and books.

She looked at another little girl sitting there and said, "Hi, I Evie." 

I saw my little baby walk right up to another child in her class and introduce herself. 

No prompting, no hand holding, there she was. 

Making her way in the world.

I quietly watched her from the corner as I unpacked the school supplies and put them in the specified containers. She was happily playing and engaging already. Smiling at the teachers and other kids. 

I debated whether or not to even say goodbye. Would I ruin it if she knew I was leaving?

In the end, I couldn't stand to not say something, so I made my way to her, gave her a hug and a kiss and told her to have fun. She kissed me back and turned to play, without a second glance.

I was so amazed and awed by her confidence and how proud I was of her, but I didn't cry. 

Neither of us did.

And so, just like that, here we go.

Evelyn Rae is two years old, Liam is almost seven months old

...and y'all. This is post 499 on this little blog, which has left me with a severe case of writer's block and anxiety over the last week on what the heck to do for post *500*. I'll think of something. 'Till then.