Ballet Moms

I found this in my journal from 2008, and I wanted to reprint it here.  

It applies to all parents, not just "ballet moms."

Dear Ballet Moms,

I don't know most of you, but I can tell a lot about you from your daughters.  They come to class with their hair up, leotards and tights on, listening politely and doing their best.  I know you wash ballet clothes several times a week, and you keep track of their shoes and their hair stuff.  Sometimes your girls miss class because of a piano recital of a family vacation, so I know your lives are full.  

I know the girls come to class on days their moms have babies, days when their parents are out of town, days when their basement just got flooded.  One of you lost your husband unexpectedly when you were pregnant with your fifth child.  The whole community was grieving with you.  Two days later, your seven-year-old was at ballet with a note explaining that you were trying to keep her life as normal as possible.

My heart ached that day and long afterward as I watched your daughter grow and shine.  I wiped away many silent tears in class over the next two years, watching your daughter blossom and progress, bereft of her father, one of the very, very few dads who had ever come into the studio to ask me about his daughter's development.  As her mother, your sacrifices to keep her life "normal" were not in vain.  At ballet, she was watched over by me, other teachers, her friends, the other moms who did her hair and brought her in your stead...and her dad.  Yes, he was there.

Ballet moms, I commend you for the work you do - laundry, housekeeping, carpools, homework, scheduling;  it is all reflected in your daughters' drive and determination at the barre.  The time you spend laughing with them, teaching them life's lessons, listening to them and supporting their creativity, it all returns in their countenances when they dance.

Sometimes as they work, I can see the heavy burdens they carry on their young minds.  I admire you moms for giving them dance as a vent for their troubles, and for being for them at the end of class to help solve all the problems that sweat and concentration couldn't purge.  I just want you to know, moms, that the job you are doing is good enough, and it is more.  Your efforts are creating something good, pure and beautiful.  Nothing is more important.  You're getting it right.  And it shows.