Dance Mom

I will be a dance mom whether my daughter likes it or not. I have waited for this moment for nearly 14 years. My boys wanted nothing to do with dance. I longed to be a dancer. Actually, I wanted to be Sarah Jessica Parker in “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” Who doesn’t want to skip through the streets handing out flyers to bikers to ruin a snobby girl’s coming out party, get the hot guy and become a Dance TV regular?

I am not exactly light on my feet. What I lack in grace I make up for in humor. You have to drag me off the dance floor at weddings and parties. Thanks to YouTube, it will come back to haunt me someday. Growing up, my girlfriends would have dance competitions at sleepovers. My friend Ginger and I were a dream team. Think You Got Served, but with leg warmers and blue eye shadow.

My daughter is registered to take a tap class. I was giddy on Saturday morning as she got dressed in her leotard and tap shoes. Then, she said something that made my mouth drop, “I don’t want to dance.” What? Blasphemy! My husband suggested we stay home. “No!” He doesn’t get it. I convinced her to go anyway. “You could just watch the other girls.” I was hoping she would change her mind once she got there.

She clung to my thigh for the first five minutes. “Come on honey, it’s so much fun.” She thought about it, “I’m embarrassed.” Nobody was watching. In fact, all of the other mothers were in the lobby. “Do you want me to leave?” She thought about it for a second. “Yes.” Then, she stood up and took her position. I picked my heart up off the floor and walked out the door.

She won’t have a choice at the recital. I will snap pictures and record video to embarrass her with later in life. Speaking of dancing, check out this video of a woman rocking out at a bus stop. I ‘less than 3’ her!




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