There was a "Major Stressful Event" at our house this past Spring. No, we didn't remodel. No, no one died, and no one lost their job. What transpired was my youngest daughter (who is 5) signed up for Ballet class. Well, technically I signed her up, so I really can't blame her! Although I am a very reluctant sit-by-the-sidelines-and-watch-and-wait-while-your-kids-are-at-their-activities kind of mom, I relented when it came to Ballet. My youngest loves all things dance, all things girly and swirly, and all things musical. I knew I was a goner the moment we saw the flyer--it had her name all over it. So, in an effort to support her interests and talents, I made the leap. I told one of my friends of my brave act, and expected her to empathize with me. Her response? "What's so stressful about Ballet? Big deal!" On the outside, I guess that's a legitimate question. After all--the class was full of 4 and 5 year old girls whose mommies sat in the lobby and admired their aspiring ballerinas. No one seemed stressed out. Well, one mom admitted to me that this was out of her comfort zone, too.

   Why? For me it was all about details. It was about keeping the tights and leotard clean--if I could find them by Ballet day. It was about making sure I remembered to pull my daughter's hair back. It was about getting there on time. Details. Details. Details. Maybe these details are no big deal for my more organized friends, the ones who look at me quizically and say, "Why don't you just implement a routine? Then everything will become automatic and you won't have to worry." Um, I am really good at starting the routine part--but as far as maintaining it? Nope. I thrive on spontanaeity (chaos?). Which is a nice way of saying I'm great at starting projects but not great at finishing them.

   So I almost freaked out when I found out that all this Ballet stuff was to culminate in a Recital, to be held in a fancy Performing Arts center downtown. And--there were regulations. Like the ballet bun in a specific location on the back of the head. And the costume. And the exact shade of red lipstick. And the blush. And the hair net. Wow. There were a few sleepless nights where I feared my daughter would be the only ballerina with a sorry excuse of a ballet bun. I even dreamed that we forgot part of her costume. The day of the Big Day I was a wreck. I woke up early to practice the perfect ballet bun. Did you know that you can google "ballet bun" and get specific instructions with pictures on how to do it?

   The ending to this story is a happy one. First, my daughter loved dancing in the recital, and was so darn cute I actually had to wipe tears away. Second, her bun was NOT a poor excuse for a ballet bun. Actually, it was one of the better ones, if I may say so myself (thanks, Google!). Third, I did manage all of those details. Me. The One Who Shies Away From Things Like That. It was a confidence-builder; it helped me see that even when I was uncomfortable in a situation, I could still manage. And it could still be "good enough." My confidence was soaring so much that I took a deep breath and asked my daughter if she wanted to sign up for ballet during the summer. She said no, she needed a break. I have to admit that I wasn't sad about that--but my husband, knowing how I feel about such things, was surprised by her answer. He even pulled me aside and said, "Is she saying no because you want her to or because she wants to?" After I reassured him that it was her decision, I sat back and realized that Ballet class had been good for both of us. She had explored an interest and a talent, and I had stretched my perception of myself. Not a bad deal. How have YOU been pleasantly surprised by your ability to adapt to stressful situations?