Moving on to her toddler years. She, of cherubic face, flawless porcelain skin, and wispy beautiful hair. She was the picture of perfection. Wait! Because she was so beautiful, what was I thinking in not signing her up for Toddlers & Tiaras? I mean, I could have coated her beautiful skin in makeup, enhanced her already lengthy lashes with mascara, dressed her like a trampy teen and paraded her down a runway. Good mothering to protect her from that? Failed mothering because I deprived her of her shot at stardom? Hhmmm

Onto the dream (actually my dream) of seeing my daughter dance. I was born with no sense of rhythm and a decided lack of coordination so I figured that when I had a daughter I'd live vicariously through her dancing on stage. She joined jazz. Hated it. Quit. Then it was onto tap dancing. Never made it to a recital. Quit. Finally, it was time to try ballet. Tiny ballet slippers, pink leotard and tutu. She was adorable, but said she didn't want to dance on stage. Just a phase, right? Once the recital came, she'd be dancing alongside her friends. Wrong again. Recital day came and she stood there, arms crossed, saying, "I told you I didn't want to." Sigh, more of my dreams shattered! I apparently was no Dance Mom. 

Now that she's a young woman I stand back and look at her accomplishments. She graduated high school early, sampled almost every extra curricular offered, traveled with drum corps, has held down jobs, is attending college, helps out and visits her grandparents. Hhhmmm Could it be that because I didn't force Hollywood standards on her and let her be her own girl/young woman (well, except for the dancing!) I just might be in the good mother camp! 

Happy Mother's Day and on that day I will also be celebrating the amazing job I apparently did with my child!