Your Mama Don't Dance

As I write this I am sitting in my car at dance with my youngest (she’s inside). I have tried, I really have, to join the ranks of the dance moms and feel like I belong. Although her dance class is on our swap day, birth mother does not socialize and mingle with other parents and therefore she doesn’t ever stay for class. She drops Little off and goes for coffee or to one of the shoppes around. So here is an opportunity for me to bond with other moms finally, right? No awkwardness or loyalty issues. Even the dance teacher is so over the top excited when she sees me and/or my husband. Yet I find myself the odd man out for most conversations.

First, I felt super excited to hear a conversation about school: I remember thinking “Yes! This is my area of expertise!!” ...only to find the parent wanted to trash teachers, not talk to one. The next conversation swiftly moved on to weight loss “Phew!” I thought, looking at my muffin top. But that conversation quickly shifted to the weight being from babies. I don’t know if this was an excuse (I mean, these women were talking about decade long baby weight, after all) but I suddenly felt fat and lazy and out of place. I smiled and nodded. I moved on. The next class started with talk of Disney World (my home away from home) and I was psyched, thinking I could share my vacation planning knowledge. Again, I was disappointed. These moms wanted to complain, to tell it “like it is”, but not really talk or listen for that matter.

Finally, after I accidentally took someone’s seat I actually got to talking to the lovely lady whose seat I stole. I even worked up the gumption to ask her if we could exchange numbers. And she was so nice and so kind. I found that while she was Leah's birth mother she was also a stepmother and she even asked me advice for some situational things her boyfriend had experienced. It really settled my heart. We haven’t talked since that day but I felt like it was an all around win. Yet, to my dismay, Leah’s mom wasn’t there tonight. I sat in a waiting room with the owner and her assistant who were busy, a Dad who is always present but largely ignores me, another Dad I have never seen diligently working on his laptop, and two other moms who were so engrossed in their cell phones that I felt compelled to pull out my own.

So, I just couldn't do it. I bowed out at that point. I hit the closest coffee shop and came back intended to regroup and head in. Here I am. Still feeling insecure, still wondering if I have what it takes to not fall apart as a mama, and drinking my dirty chai alone in my car instead of on the couch where not-so-long ago I felt like I made a friend.