Friday, May 14, 2010

Mishaps in the land of belly dance, and nervousness abounds...

Tonight, I have my first performance at a festival with my belly dancing troupe. I have performed before, but only a few times and each time at small gatherings with my intermediate class. This is a little bit scarier.

I've been practicing all week, but yesterday evening I knew that I had to practice in the costume. The group had the costume before I was invited to join, so they secured an extra one for me. I tried it on at class to assure that it fit, but I have never danced in it. And any number of things, unforeseen when it's innocently hanging on a hanger, could go wrong when it's actually in motion.

This thing is a full gown in brilliant blue complete with sequins and lots of beads. I personally wouldn't have chosen it - the leg slits are a bit too high for my taste. I will grant that the slits aren't open right to the skin - there is netting there, and at the belly too, so that's good. But it still says 'va va va VOOM!' a bit more than I'd like it to.

So, yesterday after dinner, I hurried upstairs to shimmy into this thing. The first thing I noticed is that due to all the sequins and beads, the bodice makes your chest look kind of pointy and cone-like. I suppose that's an improvement over 'barely noticeable' which is what I usually have going on. So, I got in on, but I needed Mike to zip me up.

I materialize in the kitchen, and he turns around:

"Whoa! Wooowwwww..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, just zip me up. But be gentle! These zippers weren't made to last."

Not a good thing considering how heavy this thing is. It feels a bit like belly dancing in a full wedding gown.

Anyway, I clear Mike out of the kitchen and cue my music. I start dancing, and aside from getting used to the weight of it, all went well. Suddenly, I hear something ominous:


Followed by:


I look down and a small sampling of blue beads now adorns my kitchen floor. Turns out, a string on the hem of the gown caught on my half soles (those leather strappy things you can get for dance to aid you in turning when not wearing traditional dancing shoes) and that string had some beads and a fat sequin on it. Luckily, each line on the hem is sewn separately, so no other beads were in danger.

I cleaned those up, and did the dance 2 more times to make sure nothing else was lying in wait to break. Thankfully, it was uneventful.

So, the dress is all packed up and ready to go, and I've begun the sweating process in earnest. The dance is only 2 minutes and 15 seconds, so I should be able to make it without collapsing.

I knitted happily for the rest of the night, and went to bed hoping for a good night of sleep to be ready for tonight. I fall asleep, but around 11:30 pm, I'm woken. I was so disoriented, I sat up in bed without knowing what on earth was going on for a minute. Then I hear:

"Mommy! I need my Mommy!" *sobbing*

Ah ha, right. With Hank being 4, I'm so out of practice with this. Should God bless us with another baby, this part is going to suck SUPER BAD because I've gotten used to sleeping like a normal person again. Sigh.

I hurry into Hank's room and find him snug as a bug in a rug in his bed. The only thing is, he's kicked his covers off, and a scowl sporting a porkiness factor of at least 9 adorns his cute features.

"What's wrong, Honey?"

"*incomprehensible murmuring mixed with sobbing*"

"What, Honey? Mommy can't understand you."

"My leg hurts! My foot is wubbing against it. I need my socks!"

OOOkkkkkk. There's no way I'm arguing with him, given the sheer amount of unhappiness emanating from him, so I grab a pair of socks and pop them onto his feet. Then, despite a protest, I re-cover him and kiss his little head. He's still whining when I tell him to go right back to sleep and that Mommy just needs to use the bathroom.

Thankfully, when I came out, he wasn't making any noise, so I just tiptoed on by. Even peeking in his room at that juncture would have been extremely dangerous. I can remember Hank having temper tantrums when he was 2 in the middle of the night, and not even overwhelming exhaustion was slowin' him down, no sir. He would nod off right in the middle of screaming, only to fight it, lift his head, and continue right where he left off.

I crawled silently into bed and held my breath for 5 minutes. No sound. Hank had fallen back to sleep. God is good.

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