Dance Mom - A Different Perspective

photo by Heather Liebler

 

 

It started so simply – enrolling my daughter in preschool dance lessons at the local YMCA.  She wore a pink leotard, tights that sometimes bagged around her knees and ankles and light pink ballet shoes.  Each shoe comes pre-sewn with one elastic across each tiny instep.  Her fine hair would never stay back in a proper ballet bun, and I was a typical, harried, working mom.  We had dance class on Saturday mornings in between soccer games.  Olivia had fun.  She loved her teacher.

Each semester I would get up early on the day of dance registration so we get a coveted spot in her favorite teacher’s ballet class.  When Olivia got older, our nanny would get her dressed, and take her to dance class.  I would be waiting in the lobby at the end of class to take her home.  By now we had moved through light blue leotards and were wearing navy blue.   One day, Olivia was agitated at the end of class and indicated she wanted to speak to her teacher who was also the dance director.  She expressed her frustration with some classmates who giggled and talked more than they danced.  “I’m serious about my dance!” she said, stomping that small foot with a hand on her hip.  At this point nothing had changed about the shoes except the size.

Olivia was promoted into “the company”.  We had more classes each week with different teachers and she asked me to sew her shoes like the ones the older girls wore.  Not pointe shoes yet – but she wanted two elastics, criss-crossing her foot.  These shoes don’t come pre-sewn so I learned to sew the elastics, and was inwardly grateful that she only needed two pairs of shoes a year.  All the while, Olivia was still enjoying soccer and was becoming a respectable middle school cross country runner.  Her teacher kept saying she was a talented dancer.  How could it be?  I didn’t dance, and I am less than graceful.

As her twelfth birthday drew closer, Olivia desperately hoped she could begin pointe work and was disappointed to have to wait another year.  Finally the big day arrived and she got the news.  That was only the beginning.  You see, you have to be fitted and this can take time.  We got lucky and were able to be fitted easily.  I was handed a bag with two satin shoes, a piece of thick elastic about an inch wide, and a length of pale pink ribbon along with sewing instructions.  Of course Olivia wanted those shoes to be ready for the very next class. 

I should probably interject at this point.  I am not artsy craftsy and my sewing skills are basic at best.  I came home and got started.  SIX HOURS later, I was done, and the ritual had its beginnings.  I had numerous finger sticks and had used words that would not please God or my mother.  Somewhere in the six hours, I asked God to give me the patience to sew those darn shoes.  I put her initials and a small picture in each shoe to identify them as hers.  I sewed the thick elastic and the ribbons, using brightly colored thread so I could see the stitches and being careful not to sew through the satin of the shoe.  And while I sewed, I prayed.  I prayed for my daughter, that her joy with dance continued.  I prayed for her health as a dancer – both physical and emotional.  I prayed for the other dancers in her group and her teachers.

It has been several years.  Olivia can sew her own shoes, but I still do them for her – about four to six pairs each time.  The ritual is the same.  I mark the insides with something meaningful.  We choose a thread color.  I can do a pair in just over an hour now, but the prayers are the same.  I often sew them in the dance lobby.  Little girls walk up.  They are curious and want to touch the shoes.  Ordinarily I would resent the interruption.  But not with pointe shoe sewing…each of those little girls gets a silent prayer as she walks away, dreaming of the day when she will have pointe shoes.

Olivia has done her first summer intensive ballet experience and will audition soon for a ballet conservatory.  I am not sure how we will continue the ritual.  Perhaps one day we will need to give it up – the logistics could get very complicated.  For now, I want to keep sewing and praying.