The Stage Mother I’ve Become

On March 2, 2012, in Biracial, by Honeysmoke

I’m drowning in tulle. Oh, I did it to myself. That’s what I get for enrolling Simone and Nadia in dance. I promise each time I take them to the studio I hear, Fame! I’m gonna to live forever. I’m gonna to learn how to fly. High!

Debbie Allen, the television dance teacher, is pacing the floor, making sure her scribes point their toes and hit their marks. Seriously, Nadia is so afraid of her dance teacher that simply evoking Ms. Prima Ballerina’s name makes her cry. That was not what I signed up for last fall, but that is what I got.

The costumes for the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater have arrived. Simone and Nadia have tried them on — and they fit. I have to admit they are cute. As they slipped them on, I had visions of them wearing them for Halloween. Tee-hee.

I’ve been briefed on the finer points of pink tights, bobby pins, and make-up. Yes, make-up. I should apply as much make-up as my little fairies will allow. If not, they will be washed out by the lights, and we won’t be able to see their facial expressions. Bummer. I’m almost forgot about hair.  It will be half up, half down, with curls. Thank goodness, the curl part won’t be tough. Simone and Nadia have plenty of those.

Did I mention that the grand event doesn’t happen for another two months? I don’t know what the rush is. Scratch that. Each dancer will be photographed in her costumes — Simone and Nadia have two — and we’ve already been hit up to buy ads featuring our tiny ballerinas in the souvenir booklet. I had planned to pass on the souvenir booklet, opting for my own photos instead. But the people running this gig are all too familiar with parents like me and got to the children first.

Simone and Nadia gushed about how much fun it will be to see their pretty little faces in the book. I can only hope that as they are posing for their pictures, in their sparkling costumes, ballet pink tights, perfectly coiffed hair, and flawless make-up that they will forget all about the souvenir booklet. Yeah, right.

 

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