I can't decide what to name this post.

I've never been a confident decision-maker. I second guess myself a whole lot. Give me the opportunity and I will go back and forth over anything. We're car shopping now and I'm all over the road (ha!). Seriously, one day it's luxury, European engineering, clean lines and other stuff I don't know how to verbalize because I'm obviously not car savvy. Then the next day I want simple, American, rugged. "Look, my car can hoist itself out of a canal and make short work of sand dunes!" The only thing I'm settled on is the color, blue. Maybe.


It's one thing to make a decision for yourself only. No one really cares about the car as long as it drives to and fro. Jon gave me carte blanche and that sounds great but is actually causing mild anxiety. But what really stresses me out and can even keep me up at night (and I'm a fabulous sleeper if nothing else) is when I need to make decisions for my kids. I feel as if I'm constantly screwing with the trajectory of their lives.


When we first moved to Pennsylvania (a huge decision I definitely don't regret) I turned to my neighbor across the street for all kinds of advice. She's a mother of four and her youngest is Lu's age. She offered up names of doctors, education information and suggestions on activities. Mainly, ballet. Lu had taken ballet in Baltimore, a program run by the town's recreation department that featured 16 year-old teachers and very little in the way of real dance instruction. For an entire year, the class would work on a single number to be performed at the recital. The entire year. One number. And it still stunk. Either way, Lu liked it and so I asked my neighbor to recommend a local ballet studio. Little did I know what we were in for.


The school where Lu would end up dancing for five years was no joke. True, honest, serious, classical ballet. She quickly went from one time a week, to two times each week, to three and was teetering on four. The teacher was extremely qualified, super committed and not at all warm and/or fuzzy. But it worked for Lu. She's intense and always, always wants to please. From my perspective, I loved watching her dance. It's a real emotional high to see your children do well. She could perform drills that took total concentration as the teacher clapped and shouted in French. I'd sit in awe. Not only was I a terrible French student, but I took ballet for about a minute when I was young and never possessed such determination. I wanted no parts of anything my brother wasn't doing and my brother wasn't doing pliés.

I'm the thug in the tutu.
Arms crossed is my nonverbal way of saying, "This blows."
That's my friend Sharon on the left. She was, and still is, infinitely cuter.

Ballet is so refined and civilized (another reason it wasn't for me??) that it only seemed right that Lu should always thank her teacher. She'd cross the small dance floor and convey her appreciation after every class, then we'd split.

 Lu as a ballerina. Beautiful.

Soon soccer came along. And she was good at that, too. And she liked playing on a team. And her dad coached. And it was outside. Ballet and soccer. It felt like a tug-o-war. (Which is never fun, even the real, actual game. Nothing but rope burn on your palms.) Lu's ballet teacher expected total allegiance and the assistant instructor once warned that soccer would make her legs fat. This resulted in a lot of lying during her first travel soccer season. The truly pathetic part is, I blamed most of it on Bea and she wasn't even born yet. 


"Lu can't make class this weekend because we are taking a long road trip. Got to get those visits in before the baby comes!" 


Meanwhile, the "road trip" was a soccer tournament where Lu might just break a bone or get large and unsightly calf muscles. Shhhhhh. It wore me out and set a really awful example.


So this past fall, she gave it up. All those years, all that talent, all that French. There was no going halfway with this type of ballet, so she walked.


I know there are plenty of tougher, more important decisions that people make every day, every minute, but this was a deceptively big one. Ballet gave Lu discipline, balance (literal and figurative), strength and timing. And I loved watching her dance. Did I mention that? I knew her life would be very different if she stuck it out. It'd be all ballet, all the time, and maybe that was right for her? Probably not. Plus I was tired of making buns.


Because we are an active, don't like to sit around family, we quickly found another sport to fill the gaping void. Winter swimming. The program was perfect. It could be as serious or as laid back as we wanted. And since Lu was not going to be the best on the team (a little rough after being a stand-out dancer) she could just coast along and enjoy it. No pressure. I don't think she swam in a single race that counted all season. But she had fun and I got to sniff a lot of chlorine which is very nostalgic for me.


The end-of-season banquet was last week. We went even though I didn't expect any recognition for Lu. The night was dragging on (and I was tuning out) when they started to give out the coaches' award. First, they describe the swimmer. Then, they announce the name. 


"This swimmer is so sweet and respectful. She thanks every coach after every practice." 


My ears perked and I fumbled for the camera. Of course it was Lu. A leftover habit from ballet. At least there's that. So proud!


I'm glad Lu danced. It taught her many great things she'll carry forever. I'm also glad she's done. We'll just have to wonder whether she could have/might have been a prima ballerina. And we'll just have to live with those fat legs.*

What difficult decision(s) have you made lately?


*At present, Lu weighs 58 lbs. despite eating a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream every night. A big bowl. With Hershey's syrup. Her legs are twigs.