Dance Mom

You've probably sometimes picked up from previous posts that I like a good song and dance show.  I am reluctant to link myself (or liken myself!) in anyway to that awful television programme called "Dance Moms", but I really cannot call myself anything else than a dance mum this month.  

The Frostbite & Sunburn household has hit dance season big stylee and the past few weekends have been dedicated to taxi'ing my two daughters to competitions.

We're all flagging a bit now now (one more competition this weekend then the final recital) but this year I have tried to be more calm and laisser faire.  It is usually me who is so stressed out about outfits, lipstick and time-keeping, while the girls give me that "Chillax Mum" groan.  But they are now of an age where they can take responsibility for their own suitcases of tights, shoes and sparkles, apply their own false eyelashes, and do a 3-minute change between routines from one outfit to another while changing a low ponytail into a slicked back bun.

I get to just slip into the audience and clap and cheer, and actually sit back and watch the whole show.  And so this is the first year I have really enjoyed the whole shebang!

The girls have had a great time - no nervous meltdowns - and their routines have won lots of awards and medals which is a wonderful side-effect of the hours of rehearsals.  My hat goes off to their dance instructor and choreographer (who has the patience of a saint) - and this has proven to be such a good way for them to keep fit, gain confidence and have a laugh.


And that's half the fun, surely?