When I was a little girl, I dreamed of being a dancer.
I grew up to be a dancer's mom.
Sure, I am known to dance in the kitchen with my husband
. But that kind of dancing doesn't require costumes. Or makeup. Or practice, practice, practice.
All of my daughters took dance, but Christa is the one who stayed with it the longest. She's finishing her fourth year of dance.
Her studio, Barbara Ellis Studio of Dance
, culminates the year with a performance at the Pikes Peak Center. Preparation for the recital involves rehearsal week--hours and hours at the recital hall.
For the past three years, I've volunteered as a room mom. I don't know why. At first, I felt like Christa was too young to just drop off at the door. Now--well, I just find myself saying, "Sure, I'll help."
A room mom is the equivalent of a bouncer, in the sense that I provide crowd control. The main difference between a room mom and a bouncer is that I provide snacks for talkative young dancers--and keep them occupied with games and books and DVDs played on my portable DVD player until it is their turn to perform on center stage.
As a room mom, I've also learned to apply stage makeup. The basic rule is to make young girls look like streetwalkers--heavy, heavy applications of foundation, blush, eyeshadow, mascara, eyeliner and lipstick. Once they get on stage, it's amazing how the makeup tones down to normal. Off stage, well ... you just squint a lot.
While I'm applying makeup, I give basic instructions: Look down. Look up. Close your eyes. Open your eyes. Pucker.
And then I tell each girl she looks beautiful.
I watch them practice their dances. I hug Christa before she heads to the stage. I take lots of pictures.
It's all part of being a dancer's mom--all part of being Christa's mom.
And I wouldn't miss a minute of it.
Labels: being a mom, dance recital, rehearsal week