Priorities, Priorities, Those Pesky Priorities

Sometimes it's hard to put our children's needs ahead of our own desires.

The Russian Ballet with the Russian Symphony is coming to town this weekend. It doesn't happen often. My best friend will be playing percussian with them. The symphony is playing the opera "Faust" on Saturday and then the two will perform the ballet "Sleeping Beauty" on Sunday afternoon. This Sunday afternoon. At 3:00. The exact same time of my son's big choir performance.

Yes, I almost cried.

At one time in my life (looooooong ago, in a far-away land) pointe shoes were merely an extension of my own skin. My feet felt naked and in the winter without them. I lived for the moment my toes slipped into the shoes, snapped the elastic against my skin, tenderly enveloped my ankles with pink, satin ribbon, then leapt and bounded across the dance floor. They traveled with me wherever I went. I wanted to be a prima ballerina. Alas, it was not to be.

I still love the rare occasion when I have the chance to attend a ballet performance of excellence. No offense to my dear fellow Americans, but the Russians have been and probably always will be the premier performer of ballet. So when I found out they were going to be here, I pulled out the checkbook and quickly calculated the cost to attend.

Until my son reminded me of his performance this Sunday. This Sunday at exactly the same time. Oh it hurts like a dagger through the heart, like the agony of thirst unquenched, like the...okay, I'll stop the melodramatics.

Still, over the years I've given up so much for my little man. I'm happy to do it. This is his time to shine. This is his time to excel. My time will come again someday, so it's time for me to live vicariously through the wonderful performances of my son. This just could be the leaping point for his own career aspirations, and I want to be a part of the incredible journey. It will only be a few more years now until he's off chasing his dream on his own.

There will be plenty of time then for the ballet, probably more time to myself than I'd imagined. Let there be no regrets when that time comes.

I need to stop now and go pull out my old pointe shoes.