The Late Bloomer

Learning the lesson that it's never too late

When I stop and take time to watch my daughter, Barcelona, I marvel at the metamorphosis she is undergoing. Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, the toddler is fast becoming a little girl.

On the horizon, a new milestone for my 4-year-old: Her first dance recital. She practices her routine in dance class and I often catch her performing different movements throughout the week while she plays.

Just the other day Barcelona said, "Look, Mommy, look!" and I watched with a smile as she performed an arabesque -- both her arms out for balance as she stood on one leg with the other extended, toes pointed, behind her. She could have been flying!

At 15 months, when my first born had yet to walk or utter a word, our pediatrician at the time worried. The year that followed was a roller coaster of blood tests, specialists and therapies. We taught our daughter sign language, enrolled her in gym programs and preschool, and even took classes ourselves to learn how to talk to a non-talker.

We treated Barcelona as if she were "Leo the Late Bloomer" in the children's book by Robert Kraus. Our goal was always to boost her confidence, encourage her to try new things and, above all, not hover because as Kraus writes "a watched bloomer, never blooms."

And like Leo in the book, there came a day when my daughter could run along side her friends, draw us a picture and say "I love you, too." It did not happen overnight, but she did finally bloom.

When Barcelona started dance lessons a year ago, she watched with rapt attention as the teacher demonstrated an arabesque for the first time. At home she started practicing this position over and over that same day, holding onto myself, her father, her Nana, and furniture for balance. Most times she danced on her own, but other times she delighted in performing when one of us would call out, "Arabesque!"

My daughter's smile filled my heart when she asked me to watch her the other day. Hundreds of arabesques later, she was balancing on one leg and all on her own. Her pride was palatable.

Parents often measure their own success by those of their children. It is natural to want to take credit for everything from APGAR scores to grade point averages. But more often than not, it is our children who teach us.

When I saw my little girl's arabesque, it symbolized more than a simple dance move. For me, the mother of a late bloomer, it was a visible testament to my daughter's own perseverance, her desire to tackle a challenge and to succeed.

Watching Barcelona, I realized I could take a lesson or two from my first born. There are things in life I have tried, but given up when I did not succeed. I now look to my daughter as more than my child, she is a teacher who is showing me I still have time to bloom, I can become a butterfly, that I too can take flight.

Mommy Time Column ~ June 2005