/ Letters to...

Fearlessness

Dear Vivianne,

It's August of 2013, you're six years old and you are one of the bravest, most confident little girls I know.

You were enrolled in a 4 day gymnastics camp. You came home from camp on the 2nd day, and told me that there was going to be a talent show. You asked me what I thought you should do for your talent.

"Hmmmmm...how about a head stand? You are pretty good at those," I said.

"Nah, it's a gymnastics camp, Mom. Gymnasts can do that, it wouldn't be very impressive," you reply. (Yes, you really said this.)

"I see. Hmmm...well, what do you think your talents are?"

"Well, I'm a pretty good drawer. I could bring in one of my drawings!" you pipe up.

"That would be good...but is it supposed to be something that you do in front of everyone?"

"Ya, you're right. They also might think I copied it if I brought something to show that was, you know, really good."

"Yes, that's true," I say, "Any other ideas?"

"Well, I am a pretty good singer. I could sing."

I smile. "Yes, you could definitely do that." (I am questioning at this point, whether you really are my daughter...sing? out loud? in front of people? No. Way. Ever.)

"What do you think I should I sing?" you ask.

"I have no idea," I say, "What would you like to sing?"

"Love Story! You know, Taylor Swift's song!" you exclaim.

So I help you look up the lyrics on the computer. You decide that you will only sing a part of the song. I tell you that I think that's a good idea, it's a long song and there are a lot of words. You practice in front of Lilah and I a few times, then again, in front of Dad. You are pretty sure by this point that you're ready.

I drop you off the next morning at camp and wish you luck!

When I come to pick you up that day, you tell me, that the talent show has been postponed until the next day. Well, that's good, I say, it'll give you more time to practice. I ask you if you know what some of the other girls are going to be doing for their talents. You proceed to tell me that they are all doing dances. And all the dances are "group" performances. There are several groups. Your group is doing a dance, BUT—you explain to me that you have decided not to participate with your group, and instead, will be following them as a "2nd Act", singing your solo.

"Oh. So, you are telling me that you are the only one in the entire camp, not just your group, that is going to be doing a talent by yourself?"

"Yep," you say all-matter-of-factly, "I asked my coach and she said it was ok."

(Oh, boy, Definitely not my child.)

The next day comes. I have butterflies in my stomach the whole day thinking about you. Will you go through with it? Or will you chicken out and decide to go with your group and do the dance at the last minute?? The suspense nearly killed me.

I got there early to pick you up. You were still training in the gym, but you saw me behind the glass window and just beamed. Then I knew. You did it.


Your coaches told me that you got right up in front of 170+ gymnasts, all ranging from the ages of 5 to 18 years old and sang, by yourself and rocked it.


What I wouldn't have given to be a fly on the wall to have seen that...

You run up to me, "Mom! Mom! I won! I'm the "official" winner! When I was done singing, EVERYONE clapped and then my coach put me on her shoulders and held me up in front of the crowd. AND, guess, what," you tell me, "I got high five's all day long from people I didn't even know!"

(I thought to myself, that's my girl...thank goodness you take after your Dad. Ha! Ha!)

I love you so much and couldn't be more proud.

May that fearless attitude stay with you, always.

Love,
Mom

-xoxo