Now, let's talk about the parents.
Once upon a time, on a cold day in February at a high school in Michigan, a dance mom was drinking her second cup of coffee. She carefully wrangled her daughter into the correct costume with coordinating tights, slicked back every fly-away hair (twice), attached her headpiece with thirty-five bobby pins, snapped the perfect photo in front of the competition banner, gave the last pep talk, and then headed to the auditorium to find the perfect spot to watch her baby girl take the stage. Her daughter danced and she was beautiful. Everyone clapped. The end.
Wait, no, if only it could be that easy!
This is the real story. I am that dance mom in the auditorium bouncing around in my chair. There are three more dances until my girl is in the spotlight on that stage. I try to act calm, but I am a nervous wreck. I cannot stop my overactive imagination from picturing her shoe flying off and landing on the judge's table. I have no idea why that thought even popped into my head. Why do I feel nervous and anxious when she is on the stage? I am not the one dancing!
After each number is called, the butterflies are more agitated and kick around in my stomach. I want my daughter's performance to be breathtaking. I want her to showcase all the things she has learned. I want her to show the judges how hard she has been working. I want her to remember every step and not rush. I want her to nail the new trick she just mastered. I want her costume, earrings, shoes, headpiece, necklace, and eyelashes to remain in the correct position. Mostly, I want her to be happy. I want her to beam and hold her head high. I want her to feel proud of herself. I want her self-esteem to skyrocket. I want her to know she is incredible for putting herself out there. I want her friends waiting in the hallway to grab her in giggling jump-around hugs because she killed it.
Her number is finally called, and she is introduced. We all scream like crazy people. My heart is racing. When I watch her dancing, I am gushing. I am so proud of her. I'm amazed that my baby is on a stage where she is voluntarily getting critiqued. She is so strong. She is graceful and beautiful. My butterflies fly away. I am left in awe every time she dances.
I am feeling so intensely happy. I jog out of the auditorium because walking is too slow. I must see my girl and tell her how stunning the performance was… but I turn the corner and find her crying. And those are not tears of joy. She needs comfort, but it is hard to comprehend why she is upset. She must be hurt, as that is the only logical explanation. I start with, are you okay? She rolls her eyes. I have ruled out her being hurt. So I carefully plow ahead and tell her she killed it, but she gets more hysterical. Now she thinks I am lying to her. She says that I clearly do not understand anything about dance.
It’s hard to switch how you feel so fast. Pure happiness, to sadness because your child is upset. I am also slightly mad. I am not mad at her but at the situation because I picture the stupid trophies sitting and collecting dust in the basement. Why are we even doing this? But I need to reel it all in. She is not upset because of a trophy. It is because she doesn't feel like she did her best. She wants to show everyone that she can dance flawlessly like she has practiced hundreds of times in the studio. She wants people to take her seriously and know she is a competitor.
Here is the cool part, as parents we know all about these wild emotions, so we can be prepared for whatever is thrown at us. We can set our emotions aside and use our words and actions to show our children that being a dancer is not who they are but one of the mind-blowing things they do.
Being recognized by placing in the overalls and getting special awards can bring a dancer joy and validation. It is incredible! But by Monday, the euphoria is over, and they are headed back to dance class for practice. Nobody talks endlessly about what happened last weekend because another competition is coming soon. The dance season moves on quickly.
To answer my own question, why do I get nervous when I am not even dancing? Well, it is simple, I want all good things and happiness for my daughter. It’s an impossible mission because I know she needs the mistakes to grow and learn. She needs critiques to push herself and improve. Continued words of affirmation do eventually soothe her heart and each performance makes her stronger. She needs the entire journey.
Sometimes my momma's heart feels like it is going to explode with joy, frustration, disappointment, excitement, sadness, and giddiness, but I would not want to be on any other wild roller coaster ride we call dance competition season.
Add comment
Comments