Backing up the bus: a bit about the dancing day.
I'd scheduled Curly to have her wig done by Geri. Remember Geri and Shawn from Indianapolis in November when they did Curly's makeup out of pity, but not before they were horrified by the photos of Mini's attempt? Somehow being scolded by people in thick Irish accents for sucking at makeup was a shockingly positive experience.
The pandemic meant makeup services weren't allowed. Mini-panic attack.
I hired a former Irish dancer, who I used to babysit and whose mom used to babysit me, to teach us. Thursday night, the week before we left, she gave Mini and Curly a makeup tutorial at our house. I zoomed from my hotel. Mini took notes. Curly recorded the lesson on her iPad. In other words, WE COVERED ALL THE BASES. Despite Geri's instructions back in Indianapolis, I did NOT run out and purchase MAC makeup.
Dry run. Not too bad, for the woman
who once said: WE DON'T HAVE
MAC MAKEUP IN CHICAGO.
I did a dry run Monday. Thumbs up. The night before Curly danced, I watched the lesson. I read the notes. I laid out the makeup in the hotel bathroom. We hoped another mom, who doesn't live in fear of gluing eyelids together, would attach the fake eyelashes. At the last minute, I deiced not to overthink it. I didn't want to hassle another mom. I managed tackling the eyelashes with flying colors, and Curly is still able to blink.
Curly's wig appointment was at 8 am. We lunged for the chair when the dancer in Geri's chair wrapped up at 8:10. Um, no. Geri had another dancer ahead of us, she was running incredibly late. I chose to remain calm.
Excellently placed pony tails.
Curly put on her shoes and warmed up. By the time Geri attached Curly's wig, we had mere minutes to walk to the ballroom where Curly would dance fairly close to the 9 am start time.
I thanked Geri and asked if I'd done the pony tails the way she wanted them. She'd told us the day before that she'd brush Curly's hair out when she did the wig.
|Shawn is in the white shirt and Geri is on |
the right, straddling Curly's tanned legs.
Geri finally agreed to let me separate the hair into ponies in advance. Victory.
Before we walked away, Geri uttered words, I never thought I'd hear:
THE MAKEUP LOOKS GREAT. IT'S ON POINT.
Who even am I?
*this is a 14 second video I took. I'm on the phone with Mini discussing how we hope someone else will do lashes, before I got all brave. Comfortable sharing my kid's face, because this is NOT what she looks like. She was a tad grumpy/nervous wanting me off the phone with Mini.
Curly seemed cool and collected. She danced beautifully. After her first round, she wanted to puke. For 35 minutes, she begged me to help her feel better. She ate something. Bingo. She ran to the garbage can (where we'd already visited once during the 'waiting to puke' stage, and where I'd previously managed to wrestle the lid off the garbage bin with ease. See, our day was running so smoothly). Curly successfully lost her lunch, or technically her breakfast. She felt much better. Danced great the next few rounds.
I could do without this new part of our dance day routine.
The * part:
This year the National Irish dancing committee let ANYONE dance. No qualifying necessary. I probably could've come out of retirement. Translation: many dancers. They split the competition randomly 3 ways instead of 2, leading to the competition being slightly watered down.
Curly ALWAYS ends up in the harder split. This year: easier split. Not ashamed to admit that. Of the Midwest dancers, most of the top dancers were in a different split. Dancers from other regions, well- those we had no idea about. We understood that there'd be amazing dancers who we were unfamiliar with. And there certainly were.
Additionally, the handful of dancers from the UK that typically compete, couldn't come.
Curly stood on stage with the 14 world qualifiers as they announced the winners in reverse order. When she realized that she made it to the top 10, she hopped around squealing, hugging her WQ dancing friend.
|Afterwards: I think there were|
50 bobby pinsholding that wig on.
Such a relief when she met her goal.
Open to suggestions to avoid the vomit portion of our day. She claims she wasn't very nervous. I let her decide what food interested her for breakfast, which I assumed was a strategic error in November when I insisted she eat some protein, etc. Perhaps I just start packing airline sick bags in our dance bag.