We have all seen the posts about how parents "don't pay for dance" (or insert whatever sport or activity your child is involved in). Most parents recognize that their child is not going to go pro at whatever childhood "thing" they do. We put the kids in these activities for a variety of reasons...sometimes it is to relive your childhood through the kid (in which case, I will see them in my office shortly due to their neuroses...). Sometimes, it is because the kid really enjoys the activity. Sometimes it is because, goddamnit, you will not be on your phone all day long and get the fuck up and DO SOMETHING. But whatever the reason, these posts go on and on about how they are learning all kinds of lessons about teamwork and hard work and heartbreak and successes.
But what about the parents?
I have been a dance mom since 2009. Fifteen years in a row. If you count my time with Elizabeth when she was in dance, that total goes up to 18 years. I've been around, so to speak. I own a bedazzled and have purchased butt glue and nipple petals and hair mascara and enough bobby pins that I could have probably started a retirement fund from all the recycled metal. I can put eyelashes and a full face of makeup on a sleeping child. I have sat through countless competitions, put thousands of miles on various vehicles, and have an extremely large tote of costumes in the attic as well as an entire room full of trophies. I have videos of dances from 3/4 of my children. I have purchased dozens of bouquets, have years of dance programs, and know the local high school's backstage area like the palm of my hand.
There is so much more to it, though. There were lessons that I learned as a parent.
I learned that I could genuinely care for a group of other people's children like my own. That I could get super excited for wins and commiserate with their not-so-great performances. I learned that their successes, not only on the dance floor but in other areas of their lives, could make me burst with pride just like it was my own kid. That their sadness and grief when life was not so good to them would be mine too.
I learned that there are terribly rude people out there. People who will try to sneak all kinds of shit over...sitting in seats not their own at a recital. People who will walk in front of other people when there is a dance on stage. People who will deliberately stack a dance number to put an advanced group in a younger age group or even a lower level to increase the odds of winning. People who will go so far as to steal parts of other studio's costumes. People who will leave a recital early because their kid has already performed.
But I also learned that there are some really great people out there. People who raise their children to cheer for other studios when they win. Strangers who will stop to help when you have a child who is injured. Strangers who will help you when you have two garment bags, a rolling duffle bag, a purse, a portable refrigerator, a huge ass mug of coffee, and a full flight of steps to carry them up.
I learned that it is ok for other women to mold my daughters. To call them out on their bullshit when needed. To push them. To take them to the next level, when even I, their mother, who thinks they are perfect and capable of anything, would not have insisted on it. That some of these role models would influence every aspect of my children's lives. That I would cry with these role models when it was all over because it is so bittersweet and that part of our job is over.
I learned that I can arrange multiple bouquets of flowers into various vases, too.
I learned that my husband is the ultimate "girl dad", as much as that makes my teeth hurt to say. He was a steady fixture at the dance studio until Alexis learned to drive. I'm pretty sure most of the teachers and staff liked him better than me. Some of the girls really looked up to him as a father figure and would talk his ear off. He even once got conned into doing a pushup contest at a comp because he can't tell these girls no (mind you, only a few months post-surgery from a bicep tear, to boot...).
I learned that I paid for dance as much for me as for them. Because it does take a village. And bitchez, that village has helped me to raise some phenomenal daughters (and a granddaughter, too, because Delilah is up on that stage as well).
So to my dance family: Thank you for all the memories. Thank you for helping me to raise my girls.
Thanks.
