But today was one of those days that I hadn't thought about it. I woke up with Ethan, Jim started baths for the twins, they got themselves dressed (well, mostly...), I did some laundry, Jim did some yard work, and I went to this GIANT greenhouse nearly to buy our flowers for the summer. Yes, I got to go by myself. Ahhh... Then it was time for Eleanor's ballet recital dress rehearsal. I did up her hair in a bun, put a little blush on her, and slipped on her frilly pink tutu--just too sweet.
Then we drove off to a high school where she got on stage to do her dance. She's quite the perfectionist and gets more than slightly irritated with the girls who don't know their part--to the point of tears at a few practice sessions. Gee, wonder where she gets that trait?
So I drop her off backstage and go to the auditiorium to watch and take pictures. And right there, while she was doing her dance onstage, twirling around with her little pink teddy bear, the tears hit. I just started crying and crying, all the while still attempting to focus and gets some cute shots. I couldn't believe that was my little girl up there, the one who started off at 1 pound 5 ounces, who has a big scar across her back from her PDA ligation, the one who we really thought wouldn't even live, let alone dance her little heart out on stage.
I wanted to yell out, "Do you know what that little girl has done?! Do you know how much more this means to me than it does to all the rest of you?! Do you have any idea how much more FABULOUS my daughter is than any of yours?!" But I didn't. Of course I didn't, because who knows what some of those little girls on stage have overcome? Probably not the same thing as Eleanor, but we all have our stories, and theirs are important, too. But still, it crossed my mind. With the way Eleanor lives life, I'm pretty sure this won't be the last time I start crying amidst hundreds of people...wait until her first soccer game.
