Why I cry when my children perform.

My daughter took a 5 day dance camp a couple of years ago. I was so excited for her. I myself had always wanted to take dance lessons. But we lived in a small town 30 miles from the nearest dance studio. Today it would not stretch the imagination to drive so far for dance lessons. But back in the 70's it would have been unheard of.
So we bought an inexpensive pair of tap shoes, ballet practice slippers, and a leotard and tutu. She looked so sweet in her leotard. Her little pot belly protruding ever so slightly.

Every morning we would get up and I would style her hair into a cute pony do that would keep it under control. We packed her little bag with things she would need at camp. All her dance shoes, socks, extra clothes, and a snack (to keep the energy level up).

The camp included instruction in ballet, tap, and gymnastics. After the 5 days there would be a recital where the girls would showcase what had been learned.

So the day of the recital came. Randy and I both took off of work to attend the event.

There they were, nine little girls each wearing their dance leotards mom had helped them choose. Nine little hands waving frantically to nine sets of moms and dads and various assorted grandparents. It really does'nt get much more adorable than that.

The lights went down on the audience, the music began, cameras began flashing, and nine little girls began to dance.

My heart sang at the sight of my sweet little angel. There she was on the stage, a ballarina. I had a fantasy of being a ballarina from the first moment I had seen the Nutcracker performed on public tv. Here was my beautiful daughter fulfilling that fantasy for me. In my minds eye, I could see her twirling and pliaing to the symphony at Carnegie Hall. My eyes welled with tears of joy as I watched my baby on that stage. I took a deep breath, wiped the tears from my eyes and returned from my future fantasy to the reality of the moment. Nine little girls dancing off step as if they were marionettes, their strings being pulled by some uncooridinated dance puppeteer at stage left.

Each girl had her eyes glued to the instructor, each pirrouette, each plie was performed with little finesse. They tapped and pirrouetted and performed feats of gymnastics in choreographed chaos.

I heard the quiet sniffles of mothers all around me. And it was at that moment that I realized why my mother always had that teary eyed look after every performance we went to when I was a child. I knew then, that it is a mothers inherrent ability to see beyond the clumsy off-step to the prima dona behind. To hear each flat note, and block it out and hear the lilting melody of a future diva. To see each A on the report card as an indication of the genious that lies within.

So the next time you are attending a function where children are performing, bring along some extra tissue. Share them with the mom next to you. She will be ever so grateful.










when i think of my child hood I remember it so differently than say...it actually was. Hope in ballet. me on the cheer squad.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Well I don't know." she answered. Exasperation ringing in her voice.

Don't you remember Uncle Yayhoo asking you this when you were like, six? What were you supposed to say? The usual canned six year old answer. If you were a girl, it was probably nurse or hair dresser,(that must have been what I said), or if you were a boy, a fireman. All noble, hardworking, and necessary professions.

But now the question comes around again. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Well crap! I am grown up! But I don't know what I want to do. And I have my doubts about how "grown up" I am. Being in my 40's has done nothing for the ease of decision making. I think it's harder. If I make the wrong decision, it will rise up and bite in the... well, you know.

I think to myself, "what do I love" Well, I love photography. But it also stresses me WAY out. Also the competition in my area is harsh. As I sit here at my desk, I could throw a rock and hit the homes of two other, far better, photographers. Besides, photographers here are closing studios left and right. So, really that is just a hobby.


What else? I love to read. Could I make a living doing that? Yes a proofreader, or editor. Hmmm, that might be interesting. But, there are not a lot of publishers here in Springfield, Mo.

I love to write. I could do that from home and be here for my kids. But this is going to scare the wits out of my husband. He is currently laid off from his job and trying to decide what HE wants to do when he grows up. Here is the problem with that. Due to current economic difficulties, his employer has laid off a huge portion of their work force. Randy made $22 an hour. Where can he go now and make the same money. I told him he could be a stripper. The potential for $500 a gig is there. Women will pay big bucks just to see a man on the dance floor. The popularity of "Dancing with the Stars" stands testament to that. He just rubs his burgeoning belly at me and smiles. Mmmm, that's my man.

Really I think my decision is made. Now, I just have to make it work.

Wish me luck.

Halloween 2009

Halloween is almost here. This is a big deal in my family. We started having a haunted house a few years ago and it was a HUGE hit with all the neighborhood kids ( and their parents).
My brother, Steven started the idea at his own house many years ago and was sorley disappointed with the success of the project. He lives on a secluded street that does not recieve a lot of Trick-or-Treaters. He went to great lengths to scare the little goblins only to have no little goblins show up.
So the idea came about after our first Halloweeen in our house,When we revealed that we had had over 100 Trick-or-Treaters. The following July, ( just after the big 4th of July celabration which I will touch on in later blogs) plans began for the haunted house. We began imagining all sorts of themes and methods to realize the project. Flying ghosts and vampires, elaborate scenes of macabre mellee gave way to a much simpler reality. A black plastic maze wound it's way thru the garage with plenty of shocks and frights along the way. It was simple and cheap. But the resulting screams and laughter were pricless. The first year we had around 200 visitors come thru. All recieved a candy reward for their bravery.
During the first year my brother and my husband, Randy, frightened a little girl so badly that she became paralyzed with fright and her mother had to go in after her. After the family left and it slowed down a bit, the two of them emerged laughing so hard about having scared the pee out of that little girl that tears were streaming down their faces. I had to tell them that it was disturbing that they would get so much glee out of scaring a 5 year old. Admittedly, scaring little kids was the whole idea behind a Halloween haunted house.
The second year was equally successful.
Our haunted house made us famous in our subdivision. Kids would aproach us at the pool many months after and ask "Are you guys the ones with the haunted house?" And with a sly smile I answered "Why, yes, we are."

Plans are being formulated for another go round.
If you find yourselves in a place where screams pierce the night, followed by raucous laughter. You may be in our neighborhood. Come on by and see if we can scare the pee out of YOU!! MwuHaHa Ha!!!

My first time.

The title sounds provocative, doesn't it? Well get your mind out of the gutter. I mean my first time to blog.
I have heard the term "blog" for quite a while. I knew in general what it meant but had no real experience with blogging. So, here I am at my computer at 7:02 a.m. on a Sunday morning, blogging for the first time in my life.
I should probably tell a few details about myself before we go any further. I am a beautiful, fantastically fit with a genious level IQ. I wish.
In truth, I am a 40 something woman, cute, NOT physically fit, with an above average IQ. But don't we all see ourselves a little better in our minds eye than we do in a mirror.
I love to laugh and make people laugh. And I must confess I am pretty good at it with the people I know. I would love to earn a living at laughter. I know, I know there is always stand up comedy. Yea, no. I am not the stand up type. I am more the sit down type. I would rather do it with the written word, hence the blog. I also need to hone the writing and typing skills. You will agree if you read long enough. I have dislexic fingers and they tend to type words before my mind has even thought of the next one. I do a lot of backspacing and deleting.
I would really like to write books that make people laugh, for a living. But I have so much angst over the "getting started" process. I just can't start. I have to be prepared, but I don't know how to be prepared. I need the right stuff, the right place, the right skill, the right blah blah blah. It is very frustrating not having the "right stuff". I can hear my Mom in the back of my head saying "if you are just going to do it half-assed, don't do it at all". How can I go against my Mom for heavens sakes. If I don't have the "stuff" to do it right, then I can't do it at all! When I mention to my Mom that those words are holding me back from being creative and adventurous, she just laughs. She has ZERO sympathy.
So, I am going to do it. I am going to free myself from the silly sayings of my past and get down to business of writing. And this is how I am going to do it. A blog.

My blog virginity has been lost.