I have never been characterized by grace. I would often trip playing soccer, stumble over hurdles, and walk into poles. My attire every day is one of my many Patriots t-shirt and jean shorts and I look forward to warmer weather so I can lounge comfortably in sweatpants all day. My foot has also found a home in my mouth more times than I’d like to admit proving that my lack of grace unfortunately also extends to my words. With this background in mind…enter my girly girls who love pink, frilly dresses, and ballet. Nothing is put away without a pirouette, toe point, or graceful arm extension. Dresses are worn for fun and asked for often. What is a Tomboy mom to do? Well, put Annabelle into a ballet class of course.
These past few months have stretched me thin. I entered the small studio wide eyed and clueless of expectations. Many put together moms (heels, makeup, business attire) hung out together pattering about in Spanish while me (in said T-shirt and shorts) and the twins hung out in the toy corner trying to act comfortable. We had about a month of this two times a week when instructions for the big recital came in. A dress needed to be bought, three pairs of tights, a crown, and makeup. This all came in and then I noticed the dance mom’s huddled in deep discussion. Apparently the dresses weren’t bedazzled enough. I was told I needed to glue on plastic gems of various colors. I was given a bag of beads and gems. Then I was asked if I was on their “what’s app” group. “Um, no.” And so I was added to the ballet mom’s group.
I worked for hours with glue that stuck more to my fingers than the gems. I tried to glue a string of gold crystal things around the hem of her skirt but found the glue only dried enough to fall off when I continued along the hem. Then my phone machine gun blasted with frazzled Spanish sentences that I could not understand or interpret. Each class brought more need to purchase another product or item. I was getting disillusioned. More Spanish. Then a pic of a bedazzled eye. Someone interpreted that I needed to put gems next to Annabelle’s eyes. Hand on forehead. Then more Spanish, then more pictures. I often showed Barrett the string of untranslated dialogue that filled up my phone and he would simply shake his head.
The last straw for me was a week and a half before the show. We had to pay a concert hall fee, purchase $20 tickets, and specific stuff to keep her hair in place. After all that was given, the mom’s decided to purchase the girls jackets. Jackets. In Caribbean Puerto Rico. $60. For a jacket in Puerto Rico. They were going to have the girls names on the front and the studios logo on the back. I was told I didn’t have too, there was no pressure. I sighed. Cool. Annabelle will be fine.
Right before the first performance, pictures came across the “what’s app” with all the girls getting a package to open. I knew the jackets were going to be in there. Everyone but Annabelle seemed to have gotten one. Barrett and I lamented about what awful parents we were. Then I noticed something. Annabelle was in the picture! She had a jacket! What? When? Who? I frantically tried to figure out the answer while I wiped away my tears. These women who simply knew me as the American that doesn’t speak Spanish and who rolled her eyes at the bedazzling, gifted my girl with a jacket because they knew she would be the only one without it. Wow. I gushed my thanksgiving back to them in the app that previously drove me crazy and they simply replied with, “Your welcome. You’re a dance mom now!’’ Well, if this kindness, humility, and generosity is what defines a dance mom, count me in! I may not exchange my Patriot shirt for a blouse, but I will bedazzle happily even when more glue is on my fingers than the gems. Once again, God has shown me not to define people by their culture or heritage, but rather to define them by their individual character. I was the unlovely one who was loved despite of it. This is grace. That’s the kind of grace I want to define me.
Beautiful!
I love this Colleen!