The night before, we roll her hair up into curlers – this time a little bit differently, with the ponytail in place first. Hoping to avoid early morning hysterics that would wake the entire house full of family and friends – better to go through the torture while everyone is yet awake.

While it’s still dark outside, I tiptoe into the bedroom and gently nudge her – it’s time to get ready, I say. Quickly I shower while she eats, and then we carefully dress her in the black, red and white uniform with the ‘swingy’ skirt that she loves to twirl in. The ponytail becomes a crop of curls. She dons sweats to keep warm in for the drive and her barely-worn bright white tennis shoes.

By now, everyone else is awake and bids us good-bye and good luck as we head out the door for the 15-minute drive. I remain thankful that we don’t have to travel out-of-town and turn this into an all-weekend event as so many other families here today must.

We pay to park and head inside the arena, hand in hand since there are no big or little sisters around to see. Just her and I, together.

Inside, chaos reigns as parents shepherd their daughters through the crowd back to the staging area where clumps of cheerleaders are already practicing for their turn out on the floor. I am glad that I thought to have her use the restroom before we left – the lines are something we happily avoid as we seek out our little group of coaches and teammates. I watch as she is sufficiently glittered so that even her eyes sparkle in the light.

I can hardly tear her away from her friends long enough to take a few photos and wish her luck before I head out into the crowded arena to try and find a seat that’s not already taken.

There are A LOT of people here this morning. Families from all over the state, many with kids and even babies in tow. I remain happy that my other girls are home today and that I won’t be required to attempt to amuse them for the hours that I will be here, trapped in tiny seats crowded together.

The mood is one of excitement mixed with a tiny bit of apprehension as we watch team after team file in to take their seats across from us, and we all search out that one face – of OUR own cheerleader.

Finding mine, seated behind a banner for a different city’s team, I zoom in to take a few blurry photos before settling back in my seat to wait. We are the 12th team, out of 26, to perform.

It’s almost like she knows I’m there, snapping away…

Watching the other groups perform is something I’m realizing that I actually enjoy. There’s the cuteness factor of course, of seeing so many 4 to 6-year-olds attempting to move anywhere close to synchronized. And the entire arena erupts in cheers for the ‘small’ team consisting of only one girl – who cheers and dances her little heart out.

Finally it’s our turn, and I’ve made my way down to the arena floor to join the other parents in the box set aside for photography and videotaping. Being here with only myself today requires me to choose – take pictures or video, but I can’t do both at the same time. I compromise by shooting just a few pictures as they take the floor, before turning on the camcorder instead.

They do well – really well, I think. Although not quite as good a job as back in December at Regionals, where they took first place and qualified to be here today. And the competition is quite fierce here today, actually. I know it doesn’t matter if they place or not. They are here to have fun and show off what they’ve learned for us all to see. And we cheer them on, hold up our banners and signs or shake homemade noisemakers to show our support.

Being here with no banner, sign or noisemaker, I merely settle for a few loud “Woo-hoo’s” as our group runs off to claim their trophies and have their photos taken. Then they settle in on the arena floor to watch the rest of the groups perform.

Yes, this time she knew I was there. How could you ever tell? 

As lunchtime approaches, the competition winds down and everyone grows restless. While the judges deliberate, all cheerleaders are invited back out onto the floor to dance and work off some energy.

By the way, I think someone completely brilliant came up with that idea – hundreds of little girls with swingy skirts and sparkles moving and grooving to the beat as they are freed from having to sit still even. one. moment. longer…

The winners are announced, and this time we aren’t among them. Yet I remain absolutely and completely proud of my little cheerleader who doesn’t shed a single tear or whine even once about not getting a ribbon to go with her shiny trophy. This time.

Yes, there’s a reason why we schlep them to practices on a weekly basis. Why we then get up at what’s certainly much too early for a weekend to sit for hours in the crowded arena watching the 5 minutes that our child performs and the other 115+ minutes of other people’s kids out there on the floor. Why we suck it up and spend the money on the uniform, the pom poms, and yes, the hair bow. Why we endure the sobs as we wrangle hair into curls and ponytails and why we do all of this without any complaining (at least not within earshot anyway, lol). And that reason is summed up in her grin as she shows off her favorite move and then twirls in her swingy skirt before we join hands on the way back out into the cold parking lot. Just the two of us together.

She loves to cheer. And I love her. 

Hosted by Cecily