A Commendation To Dancin’ Boy Moms Everywhere

This Mother’s Day I’d like to commend all my readers who are the mothers of dancin’ boys for doing what you do–all of it. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it. While some Dad’s help, even do a lot, as much or more (like my husband), not all of them do. And even if they do, you’re still the dancin’ boy’s mom. And today is Mother’s Day.

I am celebrating Mother’s Day but not engaging in any mothering activities at all. None. Nada. Bubkes.

Well, I did speak to both my kids, who did remember to call me on this auspicious occasion. (Yay. They get a some points.) And Julian did relate some audition information to his father via the speaker option on my phone, since he just returned from Germany last night and hadn’t spoken to him for a while. Oh, and I did relate some audition information about Julian to my sister…and my friends, who were all together sans me :~( , called and asked me questions about Julian…but other than that I’m not doing anything related to being a parent. Oh, well, I’m not doing anything at all or thinking about them after I finish this post. (I swear.)

So, I chose the artwork above (from www.zazzle.com) because dancin’ boy’s moms reach for the starts constantly not for themselves but for their sons. They see their sons as rising stars, and, indeed they are. And we function as their managers, trying to make sure they become stars–professional dancers in their own right.

My son, Julian, is, oh, so close. He and I can almost feel the lights, smell the warm bodies in the seats, hear the applause…

But he isn’t quite there yet. We thought he might be by now, that he’d have a contract in hand. (And maybe you’ve been waiting for the big announcement.) But no. Not yet. (Lot’s of expletives here…) We have been through several weeks of living hell as he tries to complete his audition process. It should have been over last week, but due to some “miscommunications” that really sent us into the fire, we are still stuck waiting–a bit more peacefully, though–until early or mid-week until he can make a decision. He fit one more audition into last week, and that was awesome. (I’ll have so much to share when I can.) But we are exhausted. We’ve had angry words spoken, tearful phone calls as we expressed our fears of losing one contract while waiting for another offer to come in, lots of advice passed along, nasty words texted to me as I was told to…(can’t share that here), many conversations about different options, excited discussions, frustrated emails, and much encouragement shared.

In the midst of all of this, there was the computer that crashed right before Julian had to turn in a paper required for graduation, and the text that said, “I fail. I won’t be graduating.” And then came the long emails I wrote to the teacher…and to SAB asking for validation that he had, indeed, written the paper and had a computer crash (no dog-ate-my-homework story). And the stress of waiting for answers–the fear that he’d be repeating his last year. (But he isn’t, as long as he passed the paper and the rest of his work.)

And there was the last-minute trip home for a company class that yielded no answers. That provided an answer in and of itself.

Stress, stress, stress, stress. Emotions always on the brink of exploding…in a positive or negative way.

And my daughter, the lovely, independent and usually not-needy-at-all costume design student just now becoming a Junior at NYU, has a knack for calling or texting in the midst of the turmoil so I can’t quite totally focus on her accomplishments or  issues despite my best efforts. “Mom, what do you think of this apartment?” “Mom, the check to secure my apartment bounced; I don’t think my checks are linked to my account anymore.” “Mom, my end-of the year project went really well!” (She texted a photo of that project to me that I’d missed and not replied to for several hours because I was writing emails to try and get information on a possible European offer for Julian…Bad Mom.)

One day I stood in the shower and simply surrendered. Things just working out. I couldn’t “fix” any of it. Something “Higher” had to do the work. My son wanted me to bud out. My daughter actually seemed to be handling most things on her own. Time to let go. Time to give it up. Even my dancin’ boy is about at the point (especially now that he’s got his wonder ADD drugs) where he wants (and seems to have more ability) to take control of his own life. And this decision about his career is more his to make than mine (or his Dad’s). Plus, I’m a firm believer that everything works out as it is supposed to. He’ll land where he should professionally. So…time to stop doing so much damn (active) parenting.

Well, we never really stop parenting, do we? But it’s a nice thought. And we do need to let go and let them spread their wings and fly…or…well…dance. And my dancin’ boy is just about ready to do that. Amazing.

So, today, dear dancin’ boy moms, take a break. If you can, don’t:

• drive your sons
• encourage your sons
• hound your sons
• help your sons
• advise your sons
• clean up after your sons
• cook for your sons
• watch your sons dance
• watch videos of your sons dancing
• help your sons with their homework
• remind your sons to do anything
• washing your son’s clothes
• washing your son’s dance clothes
• take your son’s to dance class
• pick up those yucky sweaty dance clothes off the floor
• clean out your son’s smelly dance bag
• do anything related to parenting your dancin’ boy if you can help it

Instead, do this: Dance.

Right? Why don’t we dance? Put on some music and shake your booty. Enjoy. Happy Mother’s Day.