Dance Moms

Its a terrible show. Really bad. I rarely watch television, but when I do, it is often the worst kind of reality TV that captures my attention. This is one of them. I'm fascinated with the Dance Moms. The level of snobbery and elitism far exceeds anything anyone could possibly justify.

My daughter is in a ballet class at Velocity Dance Studio on the other side of town. Its a bit of a drive in traffic to get her there in time, but it runs about half the price of the dance studio near our house. And she loves it. LOVES it. She wears a beautiful white leotard with a flowing tutu skirt, her hair in a perfect ballet bun, and just a little bit of chap stick for good measure. For that half hour, she is a ballerina princess dancing through life with nine other ballerina princesses just her age.

The experience is a bit different for me. Waiting in the lobby for thirty minutes while she dances has become one of my most dreaded weekly routines. Enter: The Dance Moms.

I admit, its an unfair assessment, but its what I call them. Three mothers that sit huddled in the middle of the floor where our daughters like to play together, chatting with each other like no one else is there (while the rest of us find our places on one of the benches lining the room, trying to stay out of the way). Harmless, right? It should be. To be completely honest, their conversations are harmless. They mostly talk about church, sometimes school. The problem arises when another parent or child tries to interact with them (or their children). No matter what is said, however relevant it is, the comment is reciprocated with a look of complete disdain and a prompt turning of the head to the other moms and changing the subject. If one of our children tries to interact with one of theirs before class, they pull their little girls into their laps and wrap their arms around them like they are protecting them from dangerous beasts. Not once has any one of them made a single statement to anyone else in the room.

To be completely honest, it makes the rest of us pretty uncomfortable. We don't really talk about it, but we look at each other when it happens, and sometimes comment lightly among ourselves. I mean, really? This is Velocity Dance Studio. You're going to be snobby here? Really?

Last night was "Bring a Friend Night". The Dance Moms huddled in their usual spot with two new potential recruits. All of the sudden, I found myself inspired. I'm not going to pretend to know why. I just felt like being funny.

After the girls went into class, I walked over and sat down right in the middle of them with my son dangling from my hip and (unintentionally, of course) kicking them in their heads on the way in. I just started talking. I didn't give them a choice. I talked about Housewives of New Jersey (which Selina and I discovered on a marathon event one night) and pretended I knew all about it. I talked about the internet. I talked about the ballet class itself. Nothing was off limits. I didn't LET them change the subject, and reveled in the shock on their faces. (They don't WATCH television or surf the web. They have QUALITY family time ONLY. Bla, bla, bla.....) I probably wouldn't have lasted more than a few minutes, but I could hear snorting from the benches and that was all the cheer-leading I needed. At one point, I got a text and I handed one of them my son while I dug my phone out of my purse.

When the girls were let out of class, the Dance Moms scraped their jaws off the floor, quickly scooped up their toddlers, and scrambled out the door. I waved excitedly and said "See you next week!" as they left.

One of the "bench moms" met me outside as I was getting in my car. "Next week, its my turn" she says with a smile bigger than I've ever seen on her.

One point for the ladies on the bench!