Not a Care in the World

For the first time ever, we recently had a competition where my girls would have to prepare themselves without my help in the dressing room. With the event using studio block scheduling, there was a limit on how many adults per dressing room would be allowed. My girls belonged to the junior / teen / senior group, so only one dance teacher and one team mom would be allowed in there with them. As circumstances would have it, my girls would literally be the youngest kids in the room.   

When I first heard the news, I felt a pit form in my stomach. How could my babies, at just 11 years old, handle the quick changes, hair fixing, and makeup touch-ups that needed to be done with lightning speed, all by themselves? This would be the very first time that I wouldn’t be there to function as their default “pit crew,” and my nerves and anxiety did not give me a moment’s peace from that moment forward.

I kid you not when I tell you that I literally bit my lip to keep the tears from spilling out when I brought them to the designated dressing room on that competition morning. Feeling wholly without purpose, I absent-mindedly began shuffling in the direction of the food court; I consoled myself with the prospect of buying a latte (since coffee products are some of the only things that can soothe my weary soul when I’ve hit a low patch; at 6:45 a.m., it was too early for the other liquid that bolsters my spirits). The line for Starbucks was already long, and I suddenly realized that I didn’t have to worry about racing back to the dressing room to help the girls get ready. That meant I could realistically drink my latte in peace, and while it was actually hot! The idea brightened my outlook a little.  Then I ran into another mom, and we started chatting (like adults, without having kids interrupt us every five seconds)!  Leisurely, we strolled back to the venue while sipping our drinks (so THAT’S what a HOT latte tastes like?!  Usually, I drink mine when it’s at least two hours old).  And guess what?  I actually got to go to the bathroom without feeling guilty, and without the dread of wondering whether my girls would need me while I’m squatting in a stall.

During the competition itself, it was so refreshing to actually SIT in the audience and WATCH the routines, rather than hastily asking my sister to watch my handbag while I raced back for a quick change. 

So just like Leonardo DiCaprio here, I felt that a burden had been lifted and I walked with a carefree, happy-go-lucky bounce in my step that day.

However, that without-a-care-in-the-world attitude quickly faded when I went into the dressing room after the awards ceremony to pack everything up. My girls’ area looked like a war zone, with shoes, costumes, hair pieces, and bobby pins strewn about haphazardly. So the only time I was needed in the dressing room that day was to clean up after the storm, I realized as I sank to my knees with a sigh.  Well, at least they still need me.

Work hard, have fun! – Danielle

When I had to step back, my girls stepped up! Dream Duffel published On Their Own on their Facebook page; I share the experience of letting go and how we fared.