Getting Schooled by My Child

I am the mother of ballerina.  The last ten+ years of my life have been spent as a "Ballet Mom," which is a pretty far cry from a "Dance Mom" in my opinion.  Ballet is my daughter's passion.


This month she tried out for the summer intensive at Ballet West in Salt Lake City with two of her best friends from the studio.  The intensive is MUCH more popular this year due to the CW reality television show, "Breaking Pointe," which features the dancers of Ballet West.   The parents were concerned going in that it was going to be much harder to land a spot this year, but you support your children's dreams and hope for the best.


We braved winter weather and roads to get to the audition.  One of the girls, Mary, was suffering with tendinitis.  My daughter was sick with a nasty cold.  We worried.  Would they do well?  The auditions are closed, so we had no idea how things went.  All three girls felt they did well, their abilities falling in the middle of the pack.  They critiqued one another, and felt good about their chances.  We braved the roads a second time to go home, and then the waiting began.


On the 15th I received a phone call at the dance shop from one of the other moms.  I could barely hear her over the heartbroken sobbing of her daughter in the background.  Then I finally made out what she was saying - "The other girls made it, but Bailee didn't."  Punch in the gut.  Tears came to my eyes.  Mary was crying in sympathy for her best friend.  It touched my heart, and I felt felt terrible.  I knew how much Mary was depending on rooming with Bailee.  They'd made so many plans together!  I didn't want Mary's joy turned to sorrow this way.  Then a text came from Aleks - "I feel like a jerk!"  Their love for my daughter had trumped their success.  Not much like what you see on "Dance Moms" according to what I've been told. 


My thoughts turned to my daughter, too far away to gather into my arms and comfort.  Was she in tears?  She had class in less than an hour.  Could she face that?  My inner mama bear roared to the surface.  I don't have any illusions about my daughter's skills when it comes to ballet.  I've spent too many years working at the studio and seen too many dancers.  She was as good as Mary and Aleks.  What the heck?!  Even the studio owner was stunned.  She'd thought Bailee would be certain to get in.  Why had she been cut?  Size?  She's only 5'2" ... but Aleks is the same size.  Skill?  Mary swears she nailed every combination thrown at her immediately.  She danced as well as Mary had ever seen her dance.  Age?  She's 4 months older than Mary.  Then the ugly demon rears his head ... was it because she was Asian?  Man, I hate that mama bear!  She was so angry, so irrational!  My hands were shaking as I dialed our home phone number (raging about why my family had not IMMEDIATELY called me when the e-mail arrived).  And I found ...


Total acceptance.  My daughter was fine.  Happy for her friends, no bitterness, no tears, no drama.  Mama bear was at a loss.  "Are you okay baby?" Her answer blew me away:   "I'm fine with it.  God just decided that the answer was no.  There has to be a good reason, and I'm okay with that."  She bounced off to dance like it was any other day, determined to share her friends' success and let them know it was okay to be happy about making it, even if she didn't.   Um, how did I manage to raise a kid with faith like that?  Especially when I was struggling with accepting this verdict and tears were streaming down my face?


Later that night, we talked about it.  She admitted to having a bad, dark feeling after she got home from the audition.  It just didn't feel right anymore.  She hadn't wanted to say anything because we'd sacrificed so much to get her to the audition (including driving through a blizzard).  Now I wonder if the rejection didn't verify those feelings as coming from her Father.  "Not now little one.  You won't know why, but I know best.  For now, the answer is no.  I love you, and I'm guiding your life and protecting you." 


She's still fine.  Still happy.  Still supporting her friends as they prepare for their great adventure.  My inner mama bear still growls from time to time.  I want all her dreams to come true, but I also want the Lord to watch over her and keep her safe.  This time, mama bear can't have it both ways.  My daughter is schooling me about acceptance.  The lesson isn't coming easily, but I'm hoping that eventually I'll be able to just drive that bear away, dry the tears that still fall sometimes, and accept what my daughter already knows - God knows best, even when He says no.


She'll go to her usual summer intensive in Pocatello, and she'll have an opportunity to work with teachers from around the U.S.  She'll love every second of it, and love sharing the experience with Mary and Aleks.  When they head off to Salt Lake in July, we'll pursue something else for Bailee.  She'll still be dancing ... or at least will be when she isn't texting her best buddies in Salt Lake and cheering them on.  Maybe next year it will be an experience they'll be able to share.  God willing ...

Oh my ...

We're finding out just how nasty and contaigious norovirus is.  It's made it's way from one family member to another, and has even done some repeat business.  No fun!

New Year's Resolutions? Get Real!

Over the past couple of weeks I have found myself possessed by a growing spirit of rebellion.  I'm finding myself willing to throw several things "under the bus" so to speak.  For some reason, they do not seem to matter so much anymore. 


So, here comes the New Year and the resolutions everyone seems to assume that you will make (and eventually break, given human nature).  People inquire, as a matter of general conversation, "What are YOUR resolutions this year?" 


"Nothing."


Stunned silence.  Lifted eyebrows.  A disbelieving, "Nothing?"


Yuppers.  Nothing.  No resolutions here.  No lofty goals.  No magnificent aspirations.  Zip.  Nada.  Zero.


Oh, the horror!  No goals?  Inconceivable!  (Don't you just LOVE The Princess Bride?  I do.)


Am I committing to accomplishing nothing?  To making no growth?  To making no changes?  Apparently this is what many believe.  I may as well announce myself as a sluggard and bum in the eyes of some of my friends.  I seriously think one in particular thinks I am just short of joining the forces of Satan.  Doesn't matter.  No resolutions for me!  No goals.  No aspirations.


I should probably insert dramatic and ominous music here, as that's the response my admission is getting from my very goal oriented friends and acquaintances.  Sorry, my resolve (ironic ... isn't it) is firm.  I resolve not to resolve. 


For once I don't want to begin a new year with a check list in hand - a check list that will define me and control me, and eventually condemn me.  Don't wanna do it, so I am not.  I'm just going to move into 2013 a rudderless craft sure to end up broken on the threatening shores (according to my buds).  That's okay.  I don't need that list.  I know where I'm going and I know what I want.  This year I'm going to move ahead without that checklist.  I'm going to concentrate more on living my life than fulfilling a list of goals.  I came to the conclusion that checking things (and people) off on a list of goals and projects is NOT how I want to live my life.  I want to move forward this year choosing to do what is right because it is right.  I want to be consumed heart and soul by the choices I make regarding what I do and what I devote my time to.  Life isn't a checklist, and I don't want to be defined by one.

Happy New Year!

Sandy Hook Broke My Heart

I couldn't post before.  I just couldn't.  I have cried more in the last week than I have in the last five years.  My heart was absolutely ripped to pieces over this atrocity.


As a teacher, this has been especially hard for me.  It hits close to home.  Way too close.  When I was driving to school on the 17th (with a great deal of trepidation - I admit), the radio station I was listening to dedicated Kurt Bestor's "Prayer of the Children" to the victims.  I sobbed.  This was especially powerful, because my daughter's dance group danced to this song when she was close to the age of those sweet babies who were gunned down.  I was a mess when I got to work.


We met as a faculty before school started to discuss new safety procedures we would institute immediately ... classroom doors locked 24/7, ID checks for anyone wishing access to the school, forbidding parents from trying to get students off the buses while they were being loaded, etc.  Our school is one of the safest in the district, with controlled access and fire doors that can section off (and lock off) parts of our very large school.  However, facing the type of military grade firearms people have access to these days, you feel totally vulnerable.  As one teacher said, "Given the right weapon, they could blow out a wall."


When I walked into my classroom I was hit again.  Looking around my classroom, I immediately visualized how we hide during a lockdown.  My imagination took over and played out our own version of Sandy Hook.  I nearly threw up, visualizing my own students in danger.  I thought about those teachers and administrators who lost their lives.  I hope that those teachers felt valued by their community before they were called upon to make that ultimate sacrifice.  I thought about how the teachers in our state have been villified, demonized, and degraded.  Yet, the parents writing letters to the editor or commenting on the internet felt that it was the teachers' duty to keep the children safe and that they should be expected to die defending them.  I sincerely pray that those six teachers felt they were appreciated and respected for the job they did everyday.


I worried as the time ticked by for the children's arrival.  Would they be afraid?  How could I reassure them?  There were no ready answers, but I found I didn't need any.  When the children arrived at school, their faces were not marked by fear.  They were filled with the same youthful exuberance and anticipation of Christmas which they'd left  with the previous Friday.  I saw trust in those eyes.  But most importantly, I saw hope.  Instead of helping my children, they ended up helping me.  I had lost a great deal of hope for this world of ours ... they reminded me that where there is life, there is hope.  They also reminded me that, while evil may have its day, good will win out in the end.


Now the debate rages about how to protect our schools and our children.  It will cost money, and no one want to hear that.  Should we arm teachers?  I don't see myself as Rambo, and I am not arrogant enough to believe that I could handle a situation that trained professionals find difficult.  So far, the only "solution" voiced that really struck any kind of chord with me was to have National Guardsmen or veterans stationed in our schools.  These are people who are trained to deal with high risk, life-or-death situations.  We don't have enough policemen to cover every school in America, but we do have enough members of our armed forces.  Frankly, I think protecting our schools is far more important than maintaining a presence in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, etc.  If Americans truly value their children, it's time for them to prove it.

My daughter is a dancer. I hate dance!

Okay, anyone who knows me or has been reading this blog for any period of time would probably say, "What do you mean? You love dance! You work for the studio. You do costumes. You drive ballerinas to classes and intensives all year. You support your daughter in everything she does. How can you say you hate dance?"

It's December.

 

 

Any dance mom would respond, "Oh. Well of course. That explains everything. December. Yeah. That's the pits." For the rest of you ... here's a little background.

 

 

December is probably the biggest performance month of the year. Not only are dancers doing huge performances of The Nutcracker, A Christmas Carol, Amahl and the Night Visitors, or any of a thousand themed recitals ... there are also tons of community events that said dancers are invited to perform at. Gotta share those talents. Gotta promote the studio. It's a huge time committment.

 

 

The ballerina in question is now dancing 25+ hours a week. This week the total was 32 hours. This is in addition to school (and her junior high thinks that December is the month for big projects - oh, how I hate them), and life in general. This weekend I haven't seen my daughter since Saturday at 9 am, when I dropped her off at rehearsal. It is now Sunday afternoon. The girls decided to have a dance sleepover so they could celebrate one of the dancer's birthday PLUS get to the studio to work on sets today. I admire her work ethic. I really do.

 

 

But, I hate dance.

 

 

It's the holidays. I yearn to do all those family traditions. She's at dance. The church youth group has holiday activities scheduled. She's at dance. Her non-dancing friends want her to come to support them at concerts and performances. She's at dance. Her room/bathroom is about to become a Super Fund Cleanup Site. She's at dance. We want to watch some holday movies. She's at dance. We want to decorate the house. She's at dance. We want to make Christmas goodies for our neighbors and family. She's at dance. Today I gathered two loads of laundry from her bedroom floor. Get the idea? I want my daughter back.

 

 

Okay, I know that come December 15th, I will be one of the proudest moms at their performance. My daughter is not just a dancer anymore, she's one of the studio principles, AND she also is a teaching assistant. This is a new production, which easily quadrupled the work load of putting it on. If I am being honest, I must admit to myself that my case of dance resentment is a result of what is going on in our family as well. During the past five weeks I have taken my sister to the ER three times and my mother twice. As the primary caretaker for both of them, I am feeling overwhelmed. Dance has robbed me of my best helper, and quite frankly one of the few rays of sunshine to be had lately. Dance is also becoming a metaphor for my daughter growing up and away from me, which is something I am struggling with at the moment.

 

Do I really hate dance? No, because it's my daughter's passion and she loves it. When she steps out on the boards next Saturday, my heart will explode in pride. However, there's still going to be that selfish little mom in my heart screaming "Bring on December 16th! I want my baby back!" So, until then I will just keep plugging away as "support staff." But from December 16th to January 2nd, she is MINE! MINE! MINE!



Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving All!

 



I am so grateful for so many things.  Today I'm going to be specific though.  I am thankful for a chance to step away from the world.  That's right, I will not be joining all those folks already queing up at stores all over town.  I think today should be a time to celebrate being thankful for what we have ... not focusing on acquiring more.  Call me the "anti-consumer" if you wish, but that is how I feel.  I think it's criminal that Thanksgiving has been usurped by Black Friday.  Absolutely shameful ... and I totally mean that. 

I am currently quite sick, so I have really appreciated a certain 14-year-old who has showed a great deal of compassion and helped me out.  The pies are done.  The turkey is stuffed and cooking.  The squash rolls are done.  The cranberries are currently bubbling in the pot (well on the way to being done).   All that remains is smashing potatoes and making my Mystic Seaport green/wax beans with a mustard sauce.  Our Thanksgiving is down to just our immediate family this year (thanks to Bailee and I being sick).  I'm trying to keep it simple ... and it has been a very good thing.  Thoreau had it right!

The sun is shining today (yesterday was cold and very windy).  There's still a stiff breeze, but nothing like yesterday.  I'd rather have a snowy day reminiscent of the days of my youth.  This makes travel easier, I know, so I won't grouse too much.  Still, I like it when winter weather wraps us up in a fluffy blanket and slows us down.  We need to slow down.  We need to stop running around and concentrate on what's right in front of us.  We forget that all too often.

So -  today is all about slowing down and appreciating the blessings of family.  I hope you have the opportunity to do the same.

A Sigh of Relief

Just a quick note:

The education reforms in our state (Propositions 1, 2, and 3) went down in a crashing defeat on election day.  A mandate from the people of our state to go back and reformat reform that included input from all stakeholders.

A collective sigh of relief was given by one and all.

The hard work of reform now begins (with the first meeting of the Education Task Force being held this Wednesday), but I am thrilled that, this time around, everyone - from parents, to teachers, to students will have a voice.