Anne, the Dance Mother

Today's blog is courtesy of my sister, Anne.  You can see from this that our organizational methods are apparently genetic..... Take it away, Anne!

The Dance Mother Test and How I Failed – Miserably

Once upon a time there was a mother whose daughter was dancing in her first competition and

this is her story. ..

Somehow Kathleen did not communicate to us that she was involved in a MAJOR dance

competition until the last moment and then it was only in a piecemeal sort of a way. It took no

fewer than four phone calls to the dance studio to get the details - which I imagine now, given the magnitude of the event, had been sent home in some written form; handed out on a night that Kathleen missed dance. It was huge, a four day extravaganza of competitions involving about twenty studios, a huge expensive program, paid admission, big panel of adjudicators, start bells, the stuff of real competitions! And I had assumed it was just one of those little local things!

Among the details we managed to cobble together was the need for tights from Wal-Mart (yikes!) and her hair in a bun. Thursday night I found myself in Wal-Mart calling husband to inquire – was it pink or white? He called back to say with great certainty, it was white - so I got the last pair in her size. I then spent the better part of the next two hours trying to find some means by which to create a bun. In desperation I called another mom (a real pro) only to find out it was bobby pins and lots of them that I needed.

At home I told Kathleen we were having bun practice that night and that she would sleep with her hair in pony tail to avoid the usual morning hysterics that come with my picking up a hair brush. I realized that her hair was too much for all the bobby pins in the world.

5:30 the next morning we were up and getting ready; white tights and a bun; I had a 2 a.m. brain wave (using two elastics - one on the inside and one around the whole mass once it was wound). We had to be at the studio by 7:15 so Kathleen could get the main part of her costume which was being altered. I just had to bring the tutu part which had come home in a bag, where I left it for a couple of weeks along with the hair thing that I wasn't at all sure where to attach.

When we got there; all of the other kids were completely dressed, with elegant buns, pink

tights, freshly fluffed tutus and make up that would put Liza Minelli to shame! How was I to know that tutus needed fluffing? And sending her on to school in make up? "No" I said at home

earlier...

This is when my self esteem began to crack. I had to hunt and dig for the altered costume as the

dance school owner wasn't there yet. The dance teacher was in a bit of a state about the white

tights. The looks of distain other mothers, who apparently stayed up all night to ensure the

daughters were perfectly turned out and from their beautifully made up little girls at my daughter, made me think that perhaps I got it wrong about the makeup. A little mascara wouldn't kill Kathleen and maybe a touch of eye shadow, some eyeliner, with blush and lipstick would round out the look. So I dumped the contents of my makeup bag on the studio floor and proceeded to doll Kathleen up, including poking her in the eye with my waterproof mascara, for the complete Raggedy Ann effect.

Tracy (owner) showed up and in her very calm unflappable way handed me the costume and

explained to me that you can fluff a tutu over the kettle to which she led me. Try as I might I

could not make it boil. (She explained the part about the water to me next.) The teacher then

came up with a pair of pink tights and sent Kathleen off to change. She then rather briskly

ordered ‘who-ever-left-this-make-up-all-over-the-floor’ to remove it so they could practice.

Once the tutu was ready, make up collected and Kathleen in pink tights we did that completely

farcical routine of chasing each other in circles to get the freshly fluffed tutu on. Two rounds of the studio later, one of the other mothers watching it all, stopped Kathleen and I caught up. As they finally practiced and I watched, I realized that with every bark from the teacher about better "turn out” that I was in a perfect ballet first position!

Off to the Opera House for 8:00 a.m. It really dawned on me then that this was a really BIG deal

competition, hence the BIG attitude from the other mothers! They had greeters to get us to the

right room, ushers to move the whole group around the back stage area where I was admonished for having a cup of coffee - one that I really really needed.

I decided at that point that I would just go around and sit in the auditorium where I thought I was supposed to be meeting Chris. I got to the lobby to find out that it would cost me $10 to just sit in the auditorium, $5 more if I wanted a program - cash only. I found the only cash I had in change at the bottom of my purse and paid to get in to hand off the day clothes to Chris who was taking her to school later (she was the only one whose parents were making her do that!). Waiting for a break between dances so as not to disturb the dancers on stage, I got in; no Chris. It seemed that he thought he was meeting me backstage only to be met by  "NO MEN PAST THIS POINT" signs everywhere.

I popped into a seat beside some other mother from one of the other nineteen studios

participating. The next dance started and my cell phone began to ring - by the tenth ring I

silenced it and was able to watch the routine. 11 - 12 year olds who looked like a gaggle of colts on stage - all legs and a bit gangly; I commented to the woman sitting next to me. Of

course that was her daughter on stage...and of course she belongs to our studio.

Thankfully Chris got there - got in for free because he knows everyone including the janitor at the Opera House. Kathleen danced beautifully, in pink tights and with her bun in place. She got a bronze (if you don't get gold or silver you get a bronze) and was very proud of it.

When she was finished I went out to meet her (as did all of the other mothers). Her rather loud

and surprised comment to me was, "Mom, did you actually stay to watch me dance?" I am sure

the other mothers would never have left their children with the impression that their jobs were a titch more important than dance competitions. I am sure that IF they have jobs they booked the whole week off, had manicures, pedicures, a complete dye job and their legs waxed for the occasion.

I am going to go back to that competition this week-end to buy one of those pricey programs

because it probably has "the rules" in it. I will take the test again next year.

It is four years later...and I like to think I have lightened up a bit! I now pass with flying colours because the real rule is - Don't take it too seriously!