At our house, children who live here (it’s a revolving door…we love kids!) are required to do something athletic and something musical. When we posed this
demand suggestion to the Diva, we were thinking she would choose something normal like soccer and piano or softball and violin or bocce ball and dulcimer.
She wanted to play the drums and cheer. What that means, in layman’s terms, is that I am a cheer mom. I have earlier lamented the woes of my status. Oh, the woes!
There’s significant woe-ing.
Being a cheer mom was not on my bucket list. It wasn’t even in my vocabulary unless accompanied by a sneer. A big one. With an eyeroll.
Nonetheless, this is the hand life’s dealt me, which goes to answer the question: are we victims of nature, or do we have any control over our lives? Take that, Socrates! If only you’d been a cheer mom, you would have known!
I’m considering changing my name to Adventures in Victimland.
Anywho, for the first few years, the Diva was one of the bigger girls on her team, making her a “base,” one of the girls who throw the other girls up the air. I felt relatively safe with that, what with her staying on the ground and all. However, she has recently joined a team on which she is the youngest, and smallest of its members.
Guess what that means.
She’s now a “flier,” the one who gets thrown. She’s like a bird. Only without wings. Or self-propulsion. Or a mother who’s ready to push her out of the nest.
Here she is:
That’s her on the top.
In the blue.
In the air.
Like a bird.
With no wings or self-propulsion.
All my faith has now been placed in a group of high-school girls, the bulk of whose names or philosophies of life I do not know.
That’s just the easy part, though. It’s called “prep”. I call it “I-need-to-go-outside-for-a-minute.”
Please send help.
Here’s a mo’ bettah part.
Here’s the thing: she has to come down right? And, though she’s called a “flier,” she does not, in fact, have the ability to soar. So, the girls, all at the same time, throw her up into the air and catch her. Hopefully.
Recently, they’ve decided it would be fun to do this thing where they swing her backward and flip her over in the air.
That’s so fun for me! I love that one! The hardwood floors make me even more excited about this!
And the Diva? She’s in heaven. Which is precisely why I sit on the bleachers, watch her, take pictures and videos, smile, and tell her how proud I am of her.
Then I go to the Sonic and buy those girls a slushie, in their choice of flavors. I need to keep my peeps happy so they’ll catch my baby, and I’m not above bribery.
Currently accepting any and all Sonic gift cards,