Monday, May 21, 2012

Mother's Day (Non Dance Mom Edition)

I learned something about myself a few weeks ago. Something I find odd and disturbing.

I'm a prude.

I assume that isn't odd for most but please consider the fact that I voluntarily refer to myself as "the real VD". Sure they are my initials. But I don't need to get so excited about it.

Before I go any further though I think I need to go back a bit.

As summer drew to a close Natalie's obsession turned to dance. She wanted to learn ballet. I searched the surrounding area for a school and selected one that seemed the least terrifying to a person who has never taken a dance class. (this was only because I was unloved as a child and not because I have absolutely no grace whatsoever.)
Ready for her first class.

Lessons began a few weeks later and everything seemed wonderful. As I sat in the waiting room I would chat with the other moms about (what I considered) normal things. Our boys would play video games and talk about angry birds while they waited for their sisters to be done.

Basically it was the complete opposite of all those terrifyingly reality shows.

It is at this point that I would like to point out that I don't watch Dance Moms or Toddlers and Tiaras but their influence is so pervasive that even I can't avoid them when they leak into the MSM. (that's snob talk for Main Stream Media)

I was forced to conclude that the lunatics on the reality show were aberrations and certainly not the norm. I happily continued to believe that until this weekend.

She's supposed to be a dog despite the lamb like qualities of her costume.

After a season of practice we arrived at recital time. On Friday at rehearsal I began to awaken to the idea that maybe I was a little too laid back about this show. My daughter is only 5 years old. I didn't realize that as the kids got older the mom's got crazier.
The phrase "herding cats" comes to mind.

I mean full on standing in the audience screaming about "hip shaking". I started to rethink the idea of dance classes. As we left rehearsal though I told myself I was overreacting. Certainly these moms just wanted their girls to do well tomorrow when the audience would be filled with unfamiliar faces.

That certainly sounded legit in my head.

Then Saturday arrived. Natalie and I headed out nice and early.

I then watched with a sort of morbid fascination as Mom's plastered make up on little girls and reminded them to "shake it". That was when the fear started to settle in.

It's hard to see anything but this was actually the cute part.

Between herding Natalie's class and the multiple trips to the bathroom the rest of kind of a blur. Nothing reached the level of craziness that would warrant a reality show and in the school defense Natalie's teacher is a really nice lady.

All that aside she isn't going back because I'm a prude.

Shocking I know. To no one more than myself.

These are the things you learn if you have a daughter. I'm pretty sure if I only had a son I would have gone on in ignorant bliss thinking I was cool and progressive.

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