(Originally posted March 2015)
Well, we made it. We survived our first big tryout week. Honestly, it was better than I expected. Even if my daughter hadn’t made the 7th grade cheer squad, I’d still say that.
I was nervous going in, mostly because of the crazy cheer momma stories I’d heard about people freaking out over their child’s competition and pulling sneaky moves. I didn’t want to be like that, of course, nor did I want to fall in the category of being so obsessed with the outcome that I spent the week being strung-out, stressed, and overly invested in conversations about which girls have an inverted toe-touch, and who can do a back tuck.
After all, every girl who tries out for cheerleader is somebody’s daughter. Their parents love them like I love my child. And while I certainly hoped and prayed my daughter would make it, I didn’t want to wish misfortune on anyone or secretly delight in fantasies of girls messing up so she would look better.
So I prayed to keep my head and heart in the right place. I prayed for my daughter and the other girls. Most of all, I looked hard for the life lessons I needed to learn.