Stressful Celebrations

The two of them stalked the short, gray-haired dance mom who walked the lost information from the results room to the results wall...one last dance, one last chance for a win.  

"Move aside, please," hollered the mom, pushing through the crowd of adolescent girls;  she struggled to be heard over the Irish jig lilting from the gym and the giggling, screaming, moaning crowd which parted reluctantly to let her through.

My Beautiful Dancer!

As the results were taped to the wall, I watched my dancer swing her arm around her best dance buddy's neck and the two closed their eyes in hope and in fear. The day had not been great for my dancer - three of four dances posted and no first places...no places at all.  She had felt good in her dances - but her dances were huge and very competitive - and Irish dancing is notoriously subjective to judge.

Squeals emanated from where the two girls stood, arms pulled faces close and tight smiles appeared on their faces...something good had happened, but we couldn't tell what.  They turned toward the gauntlet of moms, and the best buddy yelled, "Rebecca got a first!"

Rebecca held on to her buddy tightly, looking relieved to have placed first, but also slightly guilty that she had something to celebrate and her friend did not.  Congratulations were passed around and she graciously, calmly, respectfully accepted these.  Finally, we headed out of the building, finished with Irish Dance Competitions for a month.

"Whoo, hoo, A First!
" she hollered after leaping into the car and slamming the door!