Yes. You read that right. I’ve been sniffing glue (or trying hard not to since the back of the tube says it causes brain damage). For the past few days, I’ve been gluing countless rhinestones on a lyrical dress for Rosie’s dance team solo. It’s boring. And, stinky. But a girl’s gotta bling, right?
Yesterday, in the middle of my glue induced haze, I decided I better have her try the costume on once again. (I knew it was a little small, but planned to cut out the bottom part of the leotard and sew on some booty shorts to make it more comfortable for her since her solo has a lot of floor work and of course, a little larger.) It was one of my more brilliant mommy moments, because I learned a few things about the dress, my daughter and my relationship moving forward with her. It was a big light bulb moment.
The dress was just too small. Sure, it could be worn just fine, but as I was showing Rosie where the bodice needed to be now that it was blinged, it made her uncomfortable that I had to tug it the way I did (at one point I think she actually swatted my hand away). And, yes, she was a trooper and declared that it would be fine. But when she told me the reason, I had to disagree.
“Mama, you will be there with me getting dressed. So you’ll make sure it’s in the right place,” she said.
I thought for a split second. While I’d love to be there to help her when she gets ready to perform, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. Whether she wanted me there or not, the other girls would think it odd.
“No Rosie. This isn’t like the competitions when you were little. You won’t want me back there. I promise.” I responded.
She looked surprised. And, to be honest, I was a little shocked as well (despite the fact that I was sniffing glue) because it was the first time I actually said out loud that my child wouldn’t want my help (or insinuate that she still would). My little girl is growing up. And, I guess I am too.