Strictly Un-ballroom

Sorry for the sound of crickets around here lately. We are moving in the next two weeks (once we find a house in the catchment for a good school!), so things are pretty crazy. Also we had our first ever dance recital….. and whoa boy – I wasn’t expecting that one!

If you told me prior to kids that in 5 years I would be sitting in a hall with hundreds of costumed children waiting to perform in their ballet and dance concert I would have laughed you out of the room! After telling you that i wasn’t having kids (I know! snorts of derision abound!), I would have told you that if I were to procreate my offspring would never be doing anything as ridiculous as dance classes and especially not ballet and if you think I’m sitting through 25 dance numbers from uncoordinated kids doing jazz ballet to Abba and decked out head to toe in sequins and glitter you have another thing coming…… after that I would have downed a beer and headed out to catch a local band.

So fast forward to surprise kids and a move to Brissy a year ago (caught up? Good!)….. when we arrived I put Tilly into a dance class with another little friend and Miles wanted to do it too. Nice to fill in the week and meet new friends. We proceed along swimmingly with a half hour class once a week teaching them ‘groovy hips’, skips, pointed toes and just having some fun, I even thought that with luck the kids might end up without their parents two left feet – Score! That was until last term when they started learning a dance. Initially I didn’t think anything of it, then as time progressed words like concert started to be used more often, still  i thought bringing The Daddy to a little show at the church hall they had their class in so that he could see what they’d be doing would make them happy.

Well! What a silly naive mother I turned out to be! Who would have thought that the ‘Junior Concert’ would include over one hundred dancers, require custom made and fitted costumes, full dress rehearsals, rules such as no photography, videos or moving while children are on stage (I think they asked us not to breathe but The Daddy decided to flaunt that one!) – AND charged us through the nose for whatever they could think of. It’s funny how it creeps up on you too – term fees (no problems!), raffle tickets to subsidise the costumes (what a great idea!), the costume fees (hang on a second!), entry cost to the show (now you’re pulling my chain) and finally pay extra for the programme (holy hell people seriously?).

But we’re here now so whaddayado? (answer: head to the bar and order champagne as a survival mechanism!)

Getting Tilly ready was a huge shock, not just in how to avoid a camel toe in a silver lame bell bottomed jumpsuit – although that was quite a challenge, BUT I had to put make-up on her (as directed) and when doing so I couldn’t get out of my head images of little Jonbenet Ramsey and how I was sexualising a 3 year old. Typical of me over thinking things I guess – but still…..

Walking in to the massive auditorium was surreal – I felt like we’d walked onto the set of Strictly Ballroom and in the back of my head someone was chanting ‘it was Scott’s year, it was Scott’s year, IT WAS SCOTT’S YEAR!’. There were mothers who had been dancers when they were young, who took this all as part of the gig, and there were grandmothers who had the teased and sprayed hairdos and sparkled more than the little dancers! They scared me and I didn’t feel like we fit in…. actually I don’t think we really did fit in – I’m not sure how many other fathers spent the afternoon tweeting the event’s highlights such as audience member’s plastic surgery crimes, but I obviously don’t follow any of them 😉

So scrambling for some seats at the back we sit to watch the show, Tilly’s Boogie Fever was hysterical – they were all over the place and my little Disco Queen was very cute but she lost the plot a few times. However when Miles started dancing to Singing In The Rain I realised that tissues should have been essential, and also that perhaps I wasn’t as different from the other proud mums in the room as I thought.

So after a rather freakish weekend we return to normal. What is normal? It sure aint what I thought it would be 5 years ago, and I’m not the type of mother I expected to be (am I a stage mother?! SHIT!)…. but the kids are loving what they are doing and now Miles wants to do Tap next year…… how much are THOSE shoes?