Tales from the Reluctant Dance Mother

The backstage world of dance competitions is a jungle, sometimes literally and always figuratively. This week, it was a bit of both. It was hot (probably in the low 80's), a jungle of costumes in every conceivable size, color and shape hung to resemble vines on trees and as crowded as a watering hole at sunset after a steamy day.

Turf is key backstage. You need to snag some for your dancer as soon as you arrive. It really doesn't have to be much, but enough so that when you are changing costumes and hair, you have somewhere to stand. Of course, there are the alpha moms who spread out big blankets and command several square yards for their little lovelies. Likewise there are the lost souls, who's kids only have one dance and really need no space but need to be in the dressing room because that's where the kids are picked up prior to their stage time. These poor people just stand around shifting their weight from foot to foot, wondering if it's okay to leave their daughters and go take a seat. All of us, the alphas, the lost souls and everyone in between are crammed into a space just trying to make sure our kids look right for their big moment.

Often space next to an outlet is prime real estate. In these areas, the electric curling device cords octopus out from the wall, and you hear the random kid or mom scream when hot irons sear flesh. In other areas, there might be a mom sitting on a stool stitching a piece of elastic onto a hat or may be repairing a hem. Amid this chaos are dancers, lots and lots of dancers, leaned up against black dance bags playing their DS, listening to music, maybe smacking their hands together in a game of Miss Mary Mac. Kids are usually in costume or sweats, just patiently waiting to be called. Their faces are made up. Their hair is usually done, and there they are sprawled on the floor, just waiting.

Usually La Nina and I try to grab a small space near a door and hope for a cool breeze. I like to get her costumes hung up so I can see what I'm doing as there is never much time between numbers. When we get backstage, she usually runs off to chat with her friends or check out the latest DS games while I set up. I usually have to rein her in to get her dressed or 'finished' for stage. She's usually distracted, impatient and worried about some random thing like the whereabouts of one of her friends, the bow on her costume or the performance order. She always wants to know how long she has. And alas, I never know. The time she will get called varies, so really timing is anyone's guess.

It's usually not too long. By the time, her make up is touched up, her costume is on, her hair is fluffed, she's getting called to stage. That's my cue to run around to the front of the building, grab a seat and wait for her to perform.

The backstage experience is always a bit surreal to me. I mean, really, all I'm there to do is the care and feeding for my little beast. I need to make sure she's ready for stage, properly watered if thirsty, properly fed if hungry (nothing that could possibly stain a costume). My main goal is to not step on the blanket of an alpha mom and avoid the moms who look as if they are about to eat their young at any moment. Oh, and make sure my little lovely is ready when they call her.

This week her teams did pretty well. Both numbers took first place in their division, which is categorized by age and dance type. Her tap number placed 6th and her jazz number placed 3rd overall in their age group. It's only the first competition of the year and I think if the girls hit their jazz number, they will be very tough to beat.

So, it's one down and three to go on this dance season. The picture above is of La Nina, clutching her winnings, crashed after the drive home. Both the trophy and the plaque go to the studio tomorrow. In case you're wondering what she thinks of it, she wore her dance clothes all day today even though she had no class.

P.S. While her sister was dancing, the Magster was tearing it up on the indoor soccer field. She scored 4 goals, for a total of 6 on the day.

Tales from the Reluctant Dance Mother

Beyond Chinese New Year, last weekend also brought about the dreaded beginning of dance season. That means every weekend from now until the end of March we have some sort of dance event. Competition, convention, audition, you name it, La Nina will be there. And by default so will I with my lovely Dream Duffle.

We kicked off the mayhem with a dress rehearsal on Saturday night. That meant hair, make-up, costume changes, the whole thing designed to be "practice." Now, my theory has always been the dress rehearsals are more for me than my dancer. She practices twice a week, she doesn't need practice. Me, on the other hand, I need practice. I played soccer as a kid.

Here's why I need practice, one of La Nina's two competition costumes has 6 pieces, not counting earrings and shoes. The odds of losing a piece are stacked against us with crowded dressing rooms, fast turns and an over-excited, nearly 8 year old tossing arm bands like frisbees. But I disgress, really this is a story about hair. Because you see, I must curl hair this season, not once, but for two different numbers. Trust me, I'd rather face a roomful of inquisitive 8 year-olds than La Nina's lovely hair armed with only hot rollers and a curling iron.

So, there I was Saturday after coaching the Magster's soccer game trying to muster the energy to curl La Nina's hair. One thing I've learned from past curling defeats is hair products are my friend. So I grabbed a bottle of mousse from the cupboard, sprayed into my hand and applied it liberally to La Nina shining black hair. After it was in her hair, I realized the mousse seemed a little off. It was thick. It didn't blend into her hair well. In fact, it looked a little blue. But no worries. I had to get the hot rollers in, so I started rolling her hair, but something wasn't right. Her hair felt stiff. It would almost pop right off of the hot roller. I figured the mousse was just old.

After I got her hair rolled, the Magster came in for me to roll her hair. (Because if I do hair once, I do it twice...just the rule of thumb.) I reached for the mousse again, but decided I should read the label. Shock of all shocks. I did not grab mousse after all. It was shaving cream. I had put a ton of shaving cream into La Nina's hair, brushed it in and hot rolled the whole mess. And worse yet, I had to have her Livermore with curly hair within the hour. What was a reluctant dance mother to do?

I decided to go with it. Nothing else really works on her hair, why not give the shaving cream a test run? I had nothing to lose. It wasn't like her hair was going to stay curly no matter what I did. Expectations are low for me to get Asian hair curled. Even the studio director gave me a "Do your best" pep talk. But you know what, it worked. Her hair curled as well as it ever has and it actually held. Of course, it did smell a bit odd and sort of crackled when I touched it, but it was curly and that was the requirement, so off to dance we went.

As the night wore on (did I mention we were there nearly 4 hours?), her hair did fade, but no worse than usual. It completely lost it's silky feel and frankly, it was a little sticky when she sweat, but otherwise, it worked sort of. Of course, the real problem came trying to wash it out. We lathered rinse and repeated for more than one day, but I think we're good now. Overall, I wouldn't recommend this method for curling hair, but it got us through the dress rehearsal. One down, four to go.

Footnote: Every dance season there's enough material to fill a book. Nutty stage mothers, dressing mishaps, hair disasters...you name it, it happens backstage at this competitions. This year, I'll make sure to tell the "Tales".

Chinese New Year

Each year the Dad and I sponsor Chinese New Year celebrations in each of the girls' classes. I read a story, figure out a craft and usually we bring in some very tame dim sum for the kids to try. Most of the kids refuse it, but a few kids think it's the best day of the year.

This year had a totally different spin in La Nina's class. Her classmates were completely clued into the fact she's adopted from China. At 7, 8 and 9, kids have figured out she doesn't look like us. They've started asking questions, which are completely natural. And they've possibly developed some biases about race. This is a potentially scary time in La Nina's life.

This year before I went into the class, I put a load of thought into how to handle adoption questions should they come up. The first person I consulted was La Nina. I asked her if adoption came up, what would she like me to say?

"Nothing," she answered.

"Nothing?" I asked.

"Absolutely, nothing," she said certainly.

Okay, fair enough. It's her story. She should control what her class hears and if she says nothing, nothing it is. However, the reality is "nothing" would make kids more curious and I didn't want my answer to make her life worse, I wanted to make it better.

I talked to the Dad. We both agreed that whatever the questions were, our first priority should be La Nina's privacy. Yet I would have to acknowledge La Nina was adopted. These kids aren't dumb. If both the Dad and I are in a room with her, her adoption is pretty obvious. Our second priority should be to send the message La Nina was loved dearly. But how to get all that across to a group of squirmy kids? I didn't want to talk over their heads. I didn't want to sound like a stiff boring grownup. I wanted to gently persuade them adoption was okay. I wanted them to know that it was okay to ask questions, and I wanted La Nina to know it's okay not to answer questions. Yikes, how to do this in 3 minutes or less? The whole thing made me want to cancel the party, but I knew La Nina was looking forward to it.

I spent the hour before our party running through scenarios, and when I finally came up with my spin, I actually practiced it two or three times in front of the mirror. I was hopeful that I was wrong. That the kids wouldn't ask me anything and it would be standard Chinese New Year party.

Yet as soon as I sat down to read my book about how the Chinese Zodiac was put together, a kid asked if La Nina was adopted. So, here's my answer for all the adoptive parents who read this blog. After I said this, La Nina blushed but I received not one other question on anything but Chinese New Year. (Because this is written, it sounds much better than it did when I delivered it.)

"I'm not here to discuss how La Nina joined our family. We consider that a private matter. But let me tell you something about adoption in general. Adoption is a very special and a really cool thing. La Nina's Dad and I are very lucky to have gotten the chance to adopt not once, but twice. We are very proud La Nina and her sister are our daughters and we love them very, very much."

La Nina later told me she like my answer and in the end, that's all that matters.

PS I asked the Magster how to handle the same questions if I got them. (This was theoretical, we had already had her party and there were no issues.) She said next year she wants to bring her photo album, her quilt, her adoption certificate, her referral pictures, etc. Privacy was the least of her concerns. I don't know if that makes it easier or harder.

Art Class

Today was Maggie's first ever art class. I've wanted to enroll her in art since she was 3, but there was always some reason not to. I had her in a small art class this summer and she loved it, so finally, I found something that fit our schedule.

When I first told Maggie about the art class, she was totally excited. When we went to sign up for the class and the teacher told her how glad she was to finally have a girl in the class, Maggie's face fell. She's in a class with all boys.

Maggie has never been a fan of the opposite gender. Oh, she loves her dad and her grandpas, but after that, she gets iffy. And boys in her class? There is no lower form of life. It isn't like she hates boy, that would require emotion. She completely dismisses them. She doesn't learn their names, she doesn't play with them, she doesn't speak to them unless she absolutely has to. She always questions whether or not boys need to be included. Do they really have to go on field trips? Why must they eat lunch with her? And recess, really, can't they have their own? She'd be the perfect candidate for an all girls school if they had one.

So, off we went to art this afternoon. All Maggie can talk about is the fact, she's the only girl. She was so bitter I thought I wouldn't get her in the studio. Finally, she walked in, put on her apron and sat down at an easel. As the boys filtered in, her lips pursed as if she'd eaten a lemon. Until the teacher broke out the paints, then it was nothing but smiles.

I'll post her first piece of work when it's done. It wasn't dry at the end of class and when I picked up Maggie, she and her teacher were staring at the work. The teacher was asking Maggie if it needed more depth and Maggie's head was bobbing along. In the end, she asked if she could go back everyday. When I asked about the boys, she gave me a blank look, "Mom, I don't have to talk to them." Do you think I can quote her on all of this when she's 15? I hope so.