Go Team Go...

"Momma, why don't you know any cheerleads?" Isabelle asks, accusingly. Well...Mommy didn't make cheerleader because she was too serious and ridiculously uncoordinated. In fact, Mommy entered high school denying the fact she ever tried out, becoming more cynical as high school progressed preferring to wear black and listen to the Smiths. But Mommy's just delighted to revisit all of that now - in fact, let's do cheerleads all morning!

Of course, I did not answer my sweet Isabelle like that. To the contrary, I spent this and several other mornings pulling cheers out of my Georgetown, Texas, memory. It's not like it's that taxing - to play "cheerlead" - the weather's beautiful and my girls are precious - it's actually pretty fun. My friend, Beth, gets to play "starwars" all morning. I think that would be tough. It's just another one of those parenting situations, like pacifiers, birthday parties, and preschool that I have to ask myself: Is this about them or me. Do I cringe because of my own pride and insecurity or because I'm genuinely concerned for their little souls? Am I pushing this to help them become independent people or to make me look like a good mom?

So, we're going to keep cheerleading over here at the Maddex home; pompoms, megaphones and all. I'm not saying I don't tense a bit when Isabelle says she wants to be a cheerleader when she grows up (I keep picturing the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders with their makeup and midriffs), but have put it into perspective. I mean, she used to say she wanted to be a motorcycle driver! Therefore, beautiful Mom, Bethany, Molly, Beth (and all other former cheerleaders), this picture's for you.