This weekend marked a milestone for my Bean. This weekend was her first school dance, and I was faced with excitement, pride, and a touch of sadness. Seeing my little girl transform from a gangly adolescent into a beautiful and confident young lady was almost too much for this mama. However, I made it through, and as always, she made me proud to be her mom.
Preparing for this dance has taken weeks. We ordered a dress, shoes, and coat in January. It was down to the wire and a real nail-biter, but everything made it here on time. Her coat was delivered Saturday at about noon, so it was cutting it close. Shopping with Jordan is like shopping with Eric. Jordan makes up her mind about something, and there is no changing it. This can be a good thing, but it isn’t a lot of fun for a mom who enjoys the thrill of shopping. We had the dress altered and pressed, accessories purchased, and we were ready.
We spent the ENTIRE day on Saturday getting ready for the dance. We began with a mani/pedi. My daughter has beautiful, strong fingernails and the most lovely, elegant fingers I have ever seen. She has the hands of a piano player. Alas, she has no interest in playing, so we stopped forcing piano lessons on her almost two years ago. It is a shame to waste such talent. She can play almost anything by ear, but sadly the passion is not there. However, I digress. I painted her nails a beautiful, dramatic dark green to match her dress. When I had finished, I made her sit still with her hands on her lap and her feet on an ottoman for forty-five minutes. This proved to be very unpopular with the girl who couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes. However, it was more popular than styling her hair.
We then moved on to styling her hair. She had chosen a hairstyle from Instagram several weeks ago. I watched the tutorial several times before we executed the plan. I was pleased with the final product, and more importantly, The Bean was happy. However, getting to the final product was somewhat unpleasant. It took me over an hour to curl her hair. She sat fussing, wiggling, and sighing as I slowly worked my way through various layers the whole way around her head. I laughed and told her beauty is pain. She informed me it is more painful when I am the one running the curling iron. My talents are underappreciated.
We then moved on to her make-up. I permitted her to wear a full face of make-up for this special occasion. She graciously allowed me to do her foundation, blush, and lip liner. However, I lost all credibility when it came to doing her eyeliner. After she had carefully created the perfect green smokey eye, I ruined it with my amateur lining skills. Although annoyed, she remained calm and graciously told me it was okay and not worry. Once she redid her eyeshadow, she decided to forego the eyeliner. This was probably a wise choice, and she looked amazing without it.
Although I struggled a bit with my baby transforming into a beautiful young woman, poor Eric went into a tailspin. He spent the entire dinner hour practicing threatening lines and looking intimidating for any little boy that even considered asking Jordan to dance. Eric also gave her advice on dealing with all little boys, which was not to deal with them at all. By the time dinner was over, he had The Bean thoroughly convinced he was insane, and the one goal in his life was to embarrass her in front of the whole school.
In honor of Jordan’s big event, I cooked her favorite dinner. It was not a mistake that I made all her favorites, steak with butter and garlic sauce, baked potatoes, and garlic green beans. Once dinner was over, I declared the garlic powerful enough to keep the vampires away. Eric chimed in, more importantly, any little boys. We laughed, but The Bean did not find us funny. As she flounced off to brush her teeth and get dressed, her dad looked at me and said almost sadly, “You know we’re in trouble, right?” I patted him on the shoulder and told him I knew, but it will be okay…poor daddy.
When The Bean came down the staircase, her transformation was complete. She was no longer my piglet pulling, dirt-covered tomboy. Before me stood a beautiful, elegant young woman, she looked like something out of a fairytale. She smiled her million-watt smile that can light up a room and then did a little dance and scratched her bottom and legs outside of her dress, complaining the whole time of tights being itchy. Sigh, she looked the part for almost five minutes.
We were then off to her friend’s house for pictures. The house was teeming with laughing, beautifully dressed young ladies when we arrived. The living room looked like the setting of a professional photoshoot. An older sibling acted as the photographer, complete with giant lights and a professional camera. The girls were posed and poised for various shots, and they had a blast. It did my heart good to see them all laughing and enjoying the moment.
At 6:45, we were off to the dance. The Bean was surprisingly nervous. She fretted about where to go, walking in alone and making sure she had her ticket at least a dozen times. However, once we parked, she realized we had parked beside her friend, and they walked down the stairs and into the dance together. Just like that, the excitement of the day was over, and I felt a small void.
We sat and watched our baby walk into the dance and disappear into a sea of adolescence. I said a silent prayer that she would be safe and have an amazing time. We then went back to our friend’s house to await the end of the dance, laugh, and lament over our babies growing up. At 9:45, the dad’s left to pick up their daughters. The girls came bustling through the door like a satin, sparkly whirlwind. Any sadness I felt over my baby growing up dissipated when she returned. She came in laughing and threw herself into my lap. With her perfectly coiffed little head resting on my shoulder, she told me all about her exciting evening. As I sat and listened, I knew deep in my soul that I needed to appreciate this moment because they are indeed fleeting. However, for that moment, I am still the mom of a baby girl who continues to seek comfort in her mom’s arms.
As always, dear reader, stay safe, be smart, appreciate the fleeting moments, and keep washing your hands.