Daddy/Daughter Dance

Yesterday, the event that I had been dreadingall summer finally came and went with much chaos and joy.  We survived another dance revue.  This was particularly filled with a lot of dread, because we were at a new theater, we missed rehearsal due to our trip to Tennessee, there is a lot of running and bending at 8.5 months pregnant (then some embarrassment at having the luck of a maternity nurse catch you when you almost fall after trying to get up from said bent position trying to tack a tutu to a leotard) and it was SoHubby’s turn at appearing on stage.

Amber is an old hat at this stage stuff, by now.  Not only is this her 4th year of dance, but it is also her 5th year at appearing on stage at her school.  We kind of fell into all this performing stuff.  When she was 3 years old I signed her up for dance class, because isn’t that what every little girl wants?  To twirl in tutus and sparkle, I didn’t realize that over the top dance revues were the reward for a year of hard work.  Then unbeknown to us we had picked a school that holds the theater in very high regard and requires everyone to participate.  The theory is that it will build confidence instead of great actors.  Amber made her first appearance on her school stage at the ripe old age of 2 years old in Mother Goose’s Land.  She was a Queen.  There have been bumps along the way, but I would say we have enjoyed mostly success throughout her 5 years of performing.  I am glad we have found this outlet, because quite frankly I have a giant ham on my hands.

Conversation from the dance revue:

Me:  Look at that little girl. (pointing to the stage) She is scared and doesn’t want to do the dance.

Amber: Why?

Me: Well, some kids get nervous.  They can’t all be hams like you.

Amber:  What do you mean ham?

Me:  I mean wanting to perform all the time.

Amber:  Hey, mom. 

Me:  Yes.

Amber:  If I am a ham, would you eat me? (fall into laughter)

Like the other dance revues I shouldn’t have worried so much.  We found the old New Orleans theater just find, even after SoHubby, the man who knows this city better than he knows where things are in our house of 8 years, claimed he had no idea where to find the place.  His funny little joke that wasn’t so funny for this hugely pregnant woman, who really needed the less grief as possible.  Of course, I shouldn’t have to point out that the little golden hair apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.  Once again, SoHubby’s superior directional ability and uncontrollable urge to wander paid off with finding our way through the maze of stairs, elevators and sparkled covered dancers of backstage.  You would think that after 4 years of doing these shows I would  have learned a thing of two.  I have, but there are still lessons to be learned, like don’t worry about your little prima ballerina sitting around in her tutu before her number. You never have as much time as you think you have, so your little preciouses should be completely ready when they appear backstage.  Something I realized after I rushed to get Amber’s tutu from the second floor before her first number and completely forgot her gloves.  Taking heed of that moment, I informed SoHubby to get changed into his costume at dance number 17, instead of 29, which is when they needed to be backstage for their dance.  Good thing, because for a bald guy who has been dressing himself for about 40 years it took him a very long time to get into a pair of pants, white shirt, vest and bow tie. 

For a 33 numbered dance it flew by like so many things in life that require much preparation, but when put into action are gone in a flash.  And like always it was a great show.  How can you not have a good time watching Mardi Gras colored dancers spinning around to the best of Mardi Gras music.  You can’t help but dance in your seat and resist every urge in your body to jump up and scream, “Throw me sumptin’, Mister!”  Well, I controlled myself, others could not.  Hey, it is one those things that get embedded in you when you grow up in New Orleans. 

Now for the pictures:

First, like all the years before, there was the great make-up debate.
While not required, it is “suggested” that the girls wear make-up to make their faces more visible from the stage.
In past years I have been opposed, mainly because it is very hard to keep a little girl from rubbing her face resulting
in me having to redo the whole thing.   One very important lesson I have learned is that when dealing with the little girls
they should be completely dressed before arriving to the theater.  The only thing you should be worried about is touch ups
and costume changes.
However, this year, Amber had some bug bites on her face (not sure where they came from), so I obliged her with a  little make-up.
Trust me we were on the very subdued side of things.

Trust me the maitre’d jokes were not lost on anyone.

During most of the practices, SoHubby was very worried about Amber’s performance.
I would hear complaints about how she didn’t pay attention, wasn’t getting the routine, etc.
I would constantly tell him to relax it is just how she does things and no one expects the girls to be perfect.
Both did great during the performance.
See, I really do know everything.

Then the girls leave…

so the Daddies have their time to shine.

Girls are back and things speed up.

Their version of Pulp Fiction for the freestyle portion of the show. 

Of course, Sam didn’t want to be left out and had to have a picture with Daddy in his costume.
I call this one, Batman and Alfred. 

After all the excitement had died down, Amber informed me how happy she is that dance classes are over.  She was tired of staying up late that one night a week.  Yeah, I know she has a hard life.  This in no way means that she is quitting dance school.  We will probably be back here, again, next year and, God help us, sometime in the near future maybe even with me wrangling 2 little girls through the joy and chaos of dance life.  For right now, I think I will join Amber in her joy of having the summer off from dance class.