I'm teaching this term, so I started on Monday. My students are about to write a "This I Believe" Statement, so I'm doing some pondering about what I would write if I had time.

I believe in being prepared. As is often the case, I was reminded of this belief by failing to be prepared. Every single year for 13 years now, my daughters have taken dance. Each year, as the recital draws near, we are given lists, costumes, props, and so on to prepare us for the big day. I take my daughters, carefully coiffed, made up, and dressed to the picture night. Each year there is someone who doesn't have all the correct pieces, is late, or unprepared in any number of ways. I take my safety pins, bobby pins, hairspray, and make-up and share whatever I can with those in need. I tote everything I can think of so that I will be prepared. I'm bothered by those who don't remember everything and fill in with what I can so that the pictures or recital night can be perfect.

Then comes yesterday. My oldest is in her final year, and I have two other daughters to prepare for the day. As I run out of the house five minutes late for the youngest's appointment, I hope the older two would be on track, but it is not to be. First, as we arrive, Claire realizes that she forgot her ballet shoes. Oops, but I've seen this one done a thousand times--borrow the shoes of a girl from another class. Good, got that done with just a minor inconvenience. We head home to get the next girl.

After the five minute drive home, I find a grumpy near-13-year old (a week to the day) who's not happy that the older sister has been putting her make up on her. She thinks it's too heavy, but it looks fine to me.

Did I remember to pick up some white tights on the way home? Nope--she'll have to borrow from Jacqui. We start primping at the incredibly clumpy mascara, clean it up, and move on to the hair when I look down at the clock. "Oh, it's 7:50," I stupidly mutter. Corinne hears this and bursts into tears. "

"My appointment was for 7:45, and I'm not even dressed!"

Unprepared for the typical young teenage outburst, I grump on my own. "Don't start this. It doesn't do any good." I go on and on. She shuts down, so I walk out of the room. I need a few seconds to blow of steam, but oops, she storms off to her room crying. GREAT! Now we're all a mess and late. Jacqui shifts over and starts working calmly on her makeup.

I've done this before. I should know how to defuse this situation, calm her down and get her in the car. I should be prepared. This time I'm too frazzled myself, so I blow it up. She's dressing, crying, and I just look at her and tell her that there is no way she's going to do this. Just stop right now. It's over. You can't cry anymore. --Like that would ever calm anyone down.

Finally, after 8:00 we pull out of the driveway. As we pull into the studio, we grab everything and rush inside. I'm hoping for some distance to calm her down. Let her stand with her friends or something, but the next thing I hear is "Mom, I forgot my flowers." I'm tempted to send Jacqui home, but then she'd be further behind and Melanie (the dance teacher) says, "I've got some." We madly start pinning individual flowers the teacher has (because she is always prepared). Corinne's putting on her pointe shoes, we're pinning, and the photographer and his assistant keep calling out "any more white girls [costume description not physical]?" We keep saying, "yes, but just a moment." The ballet teacher is unfrazzled. She keeps pinning and handles others problems as we go. "Yes, I've got some of those." --and heads to get them, then comes back to pinning--still she pins more than I can and finally Corinne is ready. She gets her picture taken. I'm afraid to watch. I don't even see if she's able to pull off a pleasant look. I guess the pictures will tell the story.

Time to move to the next girl. We've brought three costumes for her. It's her senior year and she has two groups and wants an individual in the third costume. We have the time to smooth her hair, settle down, help her change, pose her, but Corinne goes home feeling once again the middle child. I failed her.

I started writing that I should have been prepared with all the things in advance, but when I hit the climax I saw that I should be prepared to handle the emotional problems better. I believe in having all the stuff in line, but the dance teacher kept everything calm even though we were late, unprepared, and upset. She even talked a little small talk to Corinne to settle her down. I've always admired that about her, but last night my unpreparedness in handling my own daughter glared as she defused the situation I had created by not knowing how to help Corinne. I didn't have the necessary calmness, compassion, and control on hand for the moment they were needed.

I believe in being prepared with all the little things someone might need. Now I need apply that to the big things we all need when the moment gets tense. Will I be prepared next time?