I made her cry

…and it was awesome.

SG’s placement letter for ballet arrived in early August(ish) bearing news that surprised me: she was promoted to Level 1… and she was eligible to audition for KCB‘s production of The Nutcracker.

Whoa boy.

She read the letter and for about 6-weeks she talked about the upcoming audition on a daily basis…and for about 6-weeks I tried to encourage her while reigning her in, just a little.

I did theatre through high school and college and while performing is one of the most brilliant highs I’ve ever known, getting to the stage can be brutal. I will never forget my first rejection that had nothing to do with my ability: I wasn’t cute enough. I was 19. The girl who got cast looked like Selena Gomez with giant boobs. I’m not ugly but I don’t think anyone would describe me as “cute.” You can’t improve on cuteness.

Yeah, a decade later, it still stings a little (I nailed that audition, y’all).

I’m not naive enough to believe that, just because my child is 7, she can’t be disappointed or hurt. The Nutcracker isn’t a little recital piece. It’s not a school show. It’s a serious production and a Big Damn Deal and I had real reservations that SG would land a spot after eight ballet lessons- six of which happened three months before her audition.

But she wanted to try and I wasn’t going to stop her. I prepped her as best I could (who knew musical theatre auditions could come in handy while parenting?): You mustn’t be silly or distracted. They probably won’t call you by your name, you’ll get a number. Know your number. Listen for your number. They’ll teach you part of the dance and you’ll dance in a group, you may dance a few times. You may do the same thing over and over but you need to try your best each time. It’s two hours. It’s a long time but you need to pay attention even if it’s not your turn.

What I didn’t tell her: I think your chances of getting this are slim. There are girls that have been dancing since they were toddlers. It doesn’t mean you’re not good, it means you need more experience and you can try again next year if you want.

But she wanted it. And she was excited.

We got ready…

and headed to the audition.

Two hours later she burst out of the studio, threw her arms around my waist and, grinning from ear to ear announced, “That was fun!”

“It was*?” I asked.

“Yes! I’m going to be an angel.” She said it with total and utter confidence, complete assurance.

“Maybe, sweetheart. They won’t send the cast list out for a few weeks. We won’t know for sure for a while. But you had fun and that’s what matters.” And we headed home to wait.

The parent meeting for the show was October 6. On October 4 I was getting our plans for the month together and it dawned on me that, probably, I wasn’t going to need to factor in rehearsals. I was bummed.

At 10:33 am, this arrived in my inbox:

And, holy crap, she got it. She was an angel.

I called Mr. G. “I’m going to surprise her during lunch at school with flowers. Can you meet me?” He couldn’t, but I promised to take pictures.

I called her teacher to make sure it was okay to meet her at lunch with flowers, “DON’T SAY ANYTHING,” I cautioned.

I called my mom, “She got it. SHE. GOT. IT.”

“Take the email so she can see,” Mom suggested. Oooh. Good idea.

I printed everything.

We ran to the store for hot pink roses (and a vanilla yogurt for X to busy himself with while I arranged flowers in the van).

By the time I got to the lunch room she was already at her table. She saw me, camera in one hand, the email in the other, the bag over my shoulders held flowers and the rest of the info. She was confused, maybe even a little worried.

I knelt on the floor next to her, “Hey. I have something I think you should read,” and I gave her the email.

She saw the words Nutcracker Casting, put her hand over her mouth, kicked her feet and gasped, “Ohmygosh. Ohmygosh. Ohmygosh.” and she promptly started to cry.

“I got it?” she whimpered. “You better read the whole email, baby girl. See for yourself.”

“I’m an angel, mom! I told you!”

“You called it sweetie,” I said through a haze of tears. I expected excitement. The tears were an added bonus. I felt like a fairy godmother.

It. was. awesome.

I have no words for how excited and proud I am but the best part in all of this? It’s hers. She wanted to do ballet. She wanted to audition. She‘s happy to give up chunks of her weekends for the next two months to do this. It’s hers. Her dad and I? We’re just along for the ride, marveling at her excitement, reveling in her joy.

This is the fabulous part of the parenting gig. The little slivers of awesome that are so tremendous they make the tantrums, messes, and attitude worth it. I can’t believe I got to make her cry happy tears and I’m so thrilled that I get to watch her do what she loves. Good stuff, guys. Good, happy stuff.

*Personally? I don’t know that I would describe dance auditions as “fun”. Stressful, long, tiring? YES (and, yeah, they can be fun- it’s just not the first adjective I would use). The fact that she thought it was fun? It tells me she really does love it.


5 thoughts on “I made her cry

    • “Goodnight Desdemona (Good Morning Juliet)”. I was up for Juliet and, I swear, to this day it was one of the best auditions I’ve ever had. It didn’t help that there were seniors (it was my freshman year) who made a point of coming up to me and telling me they thought the director cast it wrong. I went to the director (as I always did if I didn’t get cast) and asked her what I needed to improve upon because, you can’t get better if you don’t know where your weakness is, right? And she told me, “If I was casting on the audition alone the role would have gone to you. Unfortunately, N____ has the look I wanted.” I asked her to elaborate and she said, “N____ is just adorable. She looks like Juliet.”


      I kept auditioning for shows, and my sophomore year I got cast in “The Bald Soprano” which was such a great show that we extended the run and performances were SRO. I also got to suck face onstage with a certain Jake (whom we went to high school with and graduated a year ahead of us- you know the Jake) and that was just really delightful. 😉

      • Sucking face with that Jake would certainly make up for many, many things. 😀

        But, yes, ouch on the other. (I guess it’s good she was honest?) I would love to see that show again and I’m positive that you would have been the better choice.

        It’s like people don’t understand that looks can change with makeup/costumes or with the charisma and talent of the actor/actress. There are loads of funny looking folk (which you are not and never were) that are compelling/riveting to watch. It gets to a point in the show/movie/what-have-you that you cease seeing the actor and start seeing the character and you have a hard time picturing that it could be any other way. I’ve had crushes on loads of oddball based on personality alone.

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