By Nina Amir and Julian Amir Lacey
Mother to son
At age three, inspired by a performance he had seen, my son, Julian, asked for dance lessons. I signed him up for a tap-ballet-jazz combo class. As he learned about dance, so did I. I also learned a lot about my role as his parent. (Little did I know my role would come to include chauffeur, life coach, manager, chaperone, relationship counselor, career consultant, calendar keeper, and wardrobe assistant.) The more he danced, the more I learned about him—and about myself.
I know it’s my job as a parent to nurture my son’s talent—no matter how large or how small that talent. It’s my job to help him realize his full potential and to nurture his desire for greatness—even when he comes along kicking and screaming. I have to believe that when my child finally realizes his dreams (not mine, mind you), the effort, pain, anguish, and time (mine, not his) all will have been worthwhile.
Parenting is not an easy job. Some days my unconditional love for my son temporarily flies out the door for a variety of reasons: dance belts hanging on the stairway railings, food and school papers strewn around my car, forgotten dance tights, unfinished homework, bad grades, left-open bags of pretzels, disrespectful language, ungrateful behavior, and sullen attitudes. I feel angry and hurt a lot of the time. (I do all this for him, and for what? An attitude?)
Some days I feel frustrated as well as angry, because I think he could (or should) better use his God-given talent. (I spend all my time and a ton of money on him, and he doesn’t give his best, try his hardest? My daughter would appreciate what I do more.) At these times, I have to remind myself that a 15-year-old doesn’t have vision, at least not into the future. He can’t see how what he does right now affects his future. I can see it for him, though; it’s my job to be his personal visionary—and to guide him into his future (blindfolded, like a horse through a fire, if need be).
We spent seven weeks together in New York City this summer, and that time seems the epitome of the expression of our relationship. We lived together in a tiny studio apartment, a perimenopausal 49-year-old and a hormonal just-turned 15-year-old, and we managed to not kill one another. In fact, we managed to have a lot of fun despite the less-than-desirable accommodations. I remember giggling as we commented on each other’s status on Facebook (even though we were sitting next to one another), eating dinner at our tiny little table, and watching movies and recorded So You Think You Can Dance episodes on my computer (we had no television). We also had a blast shopping at street fairs, going to Broadway shows and dance performances, eating Pinkberry, taking the subway, and going to Broadway Dance Center. We both enjoyed taking advantage of the dance-related connections I had made via my writing, meeting famous dancers and teachers at conventions, classes, or for private lessons. I think that time together affected our relationship immensely, deepening it, improving it, generating more appreciation and understanding of each other. While we were living in New York, we faced many predicaments and obstacles.
As a parent, you spend much of your time getting to know the soul you gave birth to, all the while serving as your child’s teacher. Often though, the child teaches you just as much if not more.
Son to mother
Everything my mom does affects me in some way: her writing, her inspirational speeches, her actions, her emotions…everything.
Like most parents, my mother likes to give what she believes are helpful pep talks; sometimes they actually are helpful (although I don’t tell her so), but they aren’t what I want to hear. Usually these consist of something along the lines of: “Instead of talking to all of your friends when you get to dance, why don’t you stretch?” I know I need to stretch, but I also know I need some social time with my friends in my pre-professional dance company. However, because of these pep talks, I save a little bit of time every day before dance to do what she suggests— stretch.
I guess, you could say my mom serves as my life coach. After all, she coaches for a living through her non-dance-related writing and teaching. Like most kids, I do some of the things she tells me to do, and some of her suggestions just make me mad, so I don’t bother with them at all.
When it comes to dance, my mother (along with my father — I don’t want to forget his interest and influence in my dancing and my success in all areas of life) pushes me to take advantage of dance opportunities I might otherwise not even consider. She suggested I attend an audition for American Ballet Theatre’s summer intensive, so I went. About a month later, I got a letter saying I had been accepted into the ABT program in New York City. What an amazing combination of feelings: I was angry, because I knew I needed to go. I was proud that I had been accepted into the program. I was scared, because I didn’t know if I wanted to go. And I was sad because I wanted to see all of my camp friends again, who I’d seen every summer since I was seven.
The apartment was so tiny that one of us couldn’t be in the bathroom while the other opened the oven, because the door to the bathroom would not close all the way, impeding the oven door from opening. These cramped circumstances often forced my mother and me to react in some way. We could have reacted in a negative manner—yelling and screaming non-stop, but instead we reacted in the best possible way, laughing and joking and throwing stuff at each other. Sure, we yelled and got angry on occasion, but we always made up. We are very much alike, which explains why we have such a love/hate relationship. If we aren’t arguing and yelling, we are laughing and talking. We discuss really meaningful things: relationships, how to manifest our dreams, how to achieve goals, how the world works, our thoughts and feelings, God, and what we want out of life. I love my mom, and I’m glad she writes about me and I’m glad she continually pushes me to be the best dancer—and person—I can be. All of this has managed to create a better son, a better dancer, and a better me.
After the last three years of listening to her talk, I must admit I have become more diligent and motivated in many areas of my life. I am applying myself harder in my dance classes, and I finished out last school year with a better attitude about my work. This year I plan to get good grades, so I can get into a dance program at a good college upon graduation, and to really up my effort several notches in dance class. I might even stretch at home without being told. Who knows...
