My daughter had her first
cheerleading competition
this weekend.
I'll admit,
I was not a big fan
of competition cheerleading.
Young girls
wearing makeup
with insanely big bows on their foreheads
was too
"Toddlers and Tiaras" for me.
However,
C wanted to do it
and I reluctanly
agreed to let her participate.
I was mortified to tell
my NY friends that C
was a cheerleader.
Piano, dance, basketball, tennis, horseback riding, and volleyball
seemed much more worthy.
I never attended practice because
I didn't want to see my baby tossed about.
She is what is referred to as a "flier."
Yesterday was the culmination of months of practice.
As I watched the girls perform
I felt my face flush,
my eyes well up,
and hot tears slip silently
down my cheeks.
I was overcome by what these young girls
had accomplished
by working together.
The choreography, skill, and stunts
were amazing.
I witnessed
confident, disciplined girls,
totally committed
and completely trusting of the other girls
on the squad.
They pushed themselves physically and mentally.
And they loved it.
In the end,
it wasn't what I thought it was
from the outside
looking in.
Most things
never are.
