My adorable and totes fun mom visited the past two weeks, and we engaged in a whirlwind of gaiety and hijinks. Amongst the trips up the coast, the meals with friends, the movie-going and the many fervent discussions of how cute our new puppy is, she came to see me skate. I was VERY nervous about this.
This is the first time someone has come to see me skate since I started this blog. I have been writing about skating and talking about my progress for months, but now that someone was about to actually WATCH me, I suddenly felt I had made very little progress at all. Uh oh. Let me tell ya, lots of worries made themselves known as I attempted to drop off to sleep each night, jostling for position to be the biggest and most bad-ass worry of all.
- Will it all just bore her?
- Will she be disappointed in how little progress I’ve made?
- Will I fuck up in some obvious and horrifying way?
- Will my intermittent outside edges dismay her as much as they do me?
- Will I (my constant fear) look like one of the Dancing Hippos from Fantasia?
Of course, none of this happened. She enjoyed the whole thing–and came to see me twice, as a matter of fact. She had a great chat with Big D., met all my peeps at the rink and approached everything with her usual blend of intelligence, curiosity and enthusiasm. Granted, my mom is NOT an unbiased observer when it comes to her progeny. Her scale basically ranges from “wonderful” up to “perfect” with us. Of course, I know that my worries reflect much more how I feel I am doing than what others might feel. I knew that while I was worrying them, as a matter of fact, but it didn’t stop them from coming.
Seeing myself through her eyes, and discovering how much she noticed and admired, reminded me to be proud of what I CAN do and not so fixated on what I can’t. I can and should be hard on myself at the rink–but not at night when I can’t sleep. At night I will remember that the hippo ballerinas were damn good dancers, after all.