Dance Moms

Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if it resembled a reality show - because really there are very few similarities between reality and "Reality". My day-to-day conversations don't usually involve extremely long pauses and not every drama ends with a neat little lesson to tie it up. 

The differences became even more glaringly clear last weekend when I showed up at my daughter's dance class. I found the teacher and two cameramen in the classroom. Apparently an email I didn't receive had been sent out earlier in the week. One of the families in the class is shooting a reality show and they would be doing a segment on the class.

Thankfully I wore my nice leggings and a top that covered my ass that day. Though I hadn't had time to brush my hair, put makeup on or even look in the mirror on the way out the door. To reality mom and the producers credit, they were very good about not wanting to disturb the class - you know anymore than six people huddled in the corner of the room pointing cameras at you would. 

I wondered how my daughter would react, but she didn't seem to care at all. To the kids it was just dance class. As for the moms - well, that was something different. I had recently switched time slots because this one had more outgoing and welcoming moms. Everyone participates and the energy levels are much higher. But point a camera and all of a sudden moms are hiding behind poles and doing everything they can to avoid screen time. 

It was obvious what the narrative of this episode was going to be and I found myself unwillingly fulfilling it. Never the most  active participant, here I was being super-mom swaying back and forth and singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star off-key and sashaying around the room. All this in stark contrast to reality mom, who ironically had been my example for this behavior in previous classes. 

Like all good reality shows, it's those little moments that wouldn't mean anything in real life that you know are going to be the centerpiece of the segment. Towards the end, as the girls ran around chasing bubbles, the star of the show ran with her outstretched hands and poked my kid in the eye. It was an accident. Not a big deal, but tears were shed and hugs were exchanged. I comforted my daughter knowing full well there was probably someone behind the two-way mirror willing me to back off so they could get a clear shot of the triumphant hug and superb manners on display. 

Harmony restored. Bubbles all popped. Lessons learned. Cue music.