Do You Have What It Takes to be a Feis Mom?

The following criteria were developed a few years back by various “practitioners” in the field for use as a “self assessment” (Kind of like a Celtic Cosmo Girl Test).

How many of these apply to you?

1. You think waiting in line for ten minutes to use the restroom at the local mall is a “piece of cake.”
2. You have ever wondered what “normal families” did on weekends?
3. You have ever taught a class on the “Irish Points” system.
4. All your trips to visit distant relatives just happen to coincide with a local Feis.
5. You have checked airfares to Shannon “just in case”.
6. You can recall the exact moment you said, “The hell with this, I’m getting her a wig”.
7. You have checked results from the Boise Feis, because “you never know”.
8. Your friends wonder why you have a roll of duct tape in your purse.
9. Vacation planning starts with a check of the NAFC schedule.
10. You have ever told your daughter something to the effect of, “Don’t dance next to number 737”.
11. You can calculate the “cut off number” for qualifying for the “Nationals” from the Oireachtas but have difficulty figuring out how much of a tip to give at a restaurant.
12. You have lost the use of your dining room table for an extended period of time on account of Irish Dance.
13. Your daughter’s TCRG has consulted with you regarding an NAFC or IDTANA rule.
14. You have used rosary beads to count the bars in “Madame Bonaparte”.
15. You’ve ever “helped” your daughter with her school project so she could practice dance, then were actually proud of the “A” you received.
16. You can give more hand signals than a third-base coach.
17. You consider orange an appealing skin tone color.
18.You can estimate, within fifteen minutes, the time it will take for each set of dancers to complete their competition, taking into account every finite mathematical permutation to determine what time U-14 prelims starts.
19. You refer to a period in your life as “Before ID”
20. You can still remember how many glasses of wine it takes to put in 120 spike curls.
21. You have ever wondered where you can buy an “Official Feis Photographer” T-shirt.
22. You don’t think it strange to glue items of clothing on your child.
23. You “just happened” to have your daughter’s hard shoes in your purse at a pub, church dinner, or family-get-together (bonus points for a funeral).
24. You can correctly pronounce words like, “Siopa Rince”, “Comhaltas”, and “Smithwicks”.
25. You are actually keeping track of your score on this.

If you checked 20 or of the above, congratulations! You’re a “Category-Five” Feis Mom.
If you checked more than 15, but less than 20, you still have some “commitment issues”.
If you checked less than 15, there is still hope but you need practice. Don’t worry, there’s
plenty of time: The Boise Feis isn’t till mid September!

The Ten Commandments of Feis

On the morning of the second day the people of the Feis did arise to the dulcet murmuring of joy and jubilation as they made ready for the Feis which was even nigh upon them.
And the dancers did adorn themselves with all manner of silks, dyed garments, and costume apparel of uncertain fashion encrusted all with tinsel, jewels, glitter, and every type of shiny bauble.
And they did tie back their hair which was their own from birth and festooned instead on their heads ponderous wigs having an appearance not unlike racoons on which they placed silver diadems and crowns.
The bolder ones among them slathered pastes and creams of questionable tone on their bodies for they were ashamed of their natural colour which was unsightly unto them.
And the mothers adorned their children’s eyes, lips, mouths and faces with all manner of dyes and hues of every tawdry blush and shade.
And the spirit of An Coimisiún le Rincí Gaelacha (the unpronounceable one) descended from the mountain among the tumult and chaos and saw all of this before him and cast his eyes away roaring:
“Thou hast taken my Feis and made it a hideous spectacle and an abomination unto my eyes!”
And as an evil thing, darkness fell about the face of the Feis and the people were sore afraid and did cry out to the unpronounceable one as in one voice, “Forgive us master for we know not what we do.”
And the unpronounceable one did look upon the people with soddened eyes of forgiveness for, even though they had strayed from the spirit of the Feis, they were to him his children and he spoke kindly to them saying, “I shall give unto you this day the ten commandments of the Feis and you shall give them unto your own children and they theirs and each again unto their kind and the laws of the Feis shall not perish!”

The Ten Commandments of Feis
And the unpronounceable one did speak all these words unto them:
1. “First and above all, I am the Spirit of the Feis; thou shalt hold no commissions before me.”
2. “Remember the Feis day and register early.”
3. “Honour thy Feis Mom for it is she that delivers you unto the Feis and gives you sustenance thereof.”
4. “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s podium placement.”
5. “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s solo dress.”
6. “Thou shalt not bear false tans even unto your twelfth year, nor wigs, nor facial adornment of any kind for the Spirit of An Coimisiún gazes fondly on the children of the Feis and they shall be unblemished before his eyes.”
7. “Thou shalt not make graven images of thy dancer whilst in motion.”
8. “Thou shalt not forsake thy teacher lest thee be banished from the Feis for one hundred and eighty days.”
9. “Thou shalt not forsake thy bloomer check.”
“These are my commandments that all who dwell within the spirit of the Feis shall abide.”
And the people did look upon their fingers, five in each hand, counting them as he spoke and did look upon each other with worry and concern for each had one finger that was silent.
And the Spirit of An Coimisiún did discern the trepidation among them and asked, “What is it that trebles thee?”
And the people of the Feis did speak unto the unpronounceable one saying, “Nine, that’s only nine commandments!”
And with a final roar which shook the very firmament around them, the Spirit of An Coimisiún bellowed:
10. “Thou shalt not quibble!”
And this was the end of the second day.

The Ranting and Raving of Zebadiah Beauregard

Why Don’t the Judges Write Anything on My Stickies?
The late afternoon sun cast an ever-deepening shadow across the gymnasium floor below as the din of the Feis gradually subsided for the solitary figure lumbering up the bleacher steps. Abandoned by her daughter hours before, she was weighed down like a pack mule by all the standard trappings of a Feis: dress bag on her shoulder, shoe and wig bag clutched in her left hand, and the tell-tale bags of exhaustion under her eyes.
Her right hand grasped a scrap of paper of some significance, her eyes affixed on it struggling to discern some sacred meaning from the cryptic words and numbers written thereon.
“Hi Marcie!”
The familiar voice startled her momentarily but she quickly recovered with a smile for an old friend, “Hey Fiona!”
“What sort of hieroglyphics are we trying to translate here?”
“Huh, oh these? They’re Bridget’s marks.”
“Great! How’d she do?”
With a visibly frustrated sigh she responded, “I don’t know! The judges didn’t write anything on her stickies!”
“Oh that’s a shame then, and Bridget dancing so well,” Fiona consoled.
“It is at that, Fiona,” she mused, adding, “You know everything, just how do you score with the judges?”
“Are you talking in the biblical sense?” quipped Fiona.
“No, you know what I mean,” she added chuckling, “But I must say that Beeton fella is rather fetching.”
“Beaton,” Fiona replied.
“What?”
“It’s spelled Beaton, B-E-A-T-O-N.”
Marcie glanced at the preceding sentences in this article and realized her mistake.
“Oh! In truth now, why don’t the judges write more than they do on our stickies?”
“Some try,” Fiona reflected.
Fiona was regarded by the other Feis moms as “The Source”. She seemed to have a deeper understanding of the mysteries and wonders of the Feis that most could only accept on faith. Other moms listened in quiet awe when she dispensed the wisdom of “The Rince Code”, as she called it.
“You need to look at the ‘forty-second drill’ from the adjudicator’s perspective.”
“The forty-second drill?”
Almost trancelike Fiona began to weeve the story of the “forty-second drill”.
“That’s weave! W-E-A-V-E,” Marcie interrupted.
“Uh, right.” Almost trancelike Fiona began to WEAVE the story of the “forty-second drill”.
“Forty Seconds. That’s about how long a Beginner Reel lasts,” Fiona continued almost hypnotically, “Seconds 1-10, there are two competitors on the stage finishing their dance and, as the adjudicator, you tally their points and scribble a quick comment for each while making sure to take one last glance to verify their competitor numbers. Meanwhile, you are in ‘dancer acquisition mode’ trying to figure out which of the new dancers is which on the score sheet (one is wearing a non-glare name tag despite the new rule; you make a mental note to talk to the stage manager). Was that a ‘3’ or a ‘5’? Needless to say this is a distracting time and you’re hoping one of the dancers will do something that will separate herself from the others, even if it’s just smiling. You try to appear attentive.”
“I’m almost lost already,” Marcie mumbled.
“Seconds 10-35, the previous dancers have cleared the stage and you try to focus on the remaining two who both appear to be dancing identical choreography because they’re from the same school and constantly glancing at each other’s feet. And, My God, will that one girl stop looking at the ceiling; I’m down here for crying out loud! You relax a bit and take a sip of coffee which has gone cold,” Fiona noticeably grimaced, “You continue to watch the dancers, ‘Solid presentation from dancer 114,’ you think to yourself, ‘but a little off on timing in the second step.’ Dancer 841 (or was that 341) needs to improve her turn out and look down from the overhead lights occasionally. Don’t any dancers smile? There are still 15 more dancers in the group so you give dancer 114 a score of 84 and dancer 841 a score of 78. You’ll be sorting out placements later, and you put a couple of plus or minus signs down next to each dancer which only you can translate.”
Marcie is mesmerized as Fiona continued with her litany.
“Seconds 35-40, and whoosh! Time flies and the next two dancers are already pointing their toes and 114 (they are no longer faces, but numbers now) just danced past her finish step despite the musician’s obvious cue. A quick minus sign and you’ll try to remember to adjust the score in a bit, now which of the two new dancers is which?”
“I’ve lost track myself,” Marcie intoned.
“All of this in forty seconds. With ten dancers in a set, you go through this same routine five times in a period of just over three minutes. The average adult can only write 25-30 words a minute when fully concentrating on the paper in front of them. A lot less when having to glance up and down to check competitor numbers. And remember, you are watching the same dance over and over and over and over!”
“Nobody knows the treble they’ve seen!” Marcie concluded.
“Given all this, it’s rather amazing that there are only two documented cases of adjudicators standing up, screaming incoherently and poking their eyes out with their pencils!” Fiona concluded her tale with an obviously relished crescendo.
“That would explain the adjudicator with the seeing-eye dog at the last Feis then!” Marcie squealed.
“Indeed it does child, and there you have it.”
“Thanks Fiona! But I have one last question.”
“What’s that Marcie?”
“Bridget’s teacher said she needs better ‘stage presents’, do you know what kind of presents adjudicators like?”
“We’ll think of something before next Feis.”

By Zebadiah Beauregard

Bob the Feis Mom

Hornpipe Volume 10 Issue 5

By Zebadiah Beauregard

So there’s Bob again, day before the Feis, manly tool grasped firmly in his hand, hanging out with the boys and building stages for the big event.

His heart suddenly begins to quiver and he clutches his chest in terror. “This is it!” he stutters, a visible panic setting in. “This is how it all ends boys, this is… this is… is… uh, my cell phone vibrating?”

“Yes dear? Yes, unh hunh, yes, aw so sorry to hear that! Of course I will! Ok, Monday, maybe Tuesday? Fine! I’ll take care of everything here.”

“Who was that?” his friend Brian asks as Bob puts the phone away.

“Oh, that was Marcie. She’s been called out of town on a family emergency, nothing serious, she’ll be back Tuesday.”

“Who’s taking Bridget to the Feis?”

“Bridget?”

“Your daughter, are you taking her to the Feis?”

Bob’s heart suddenly begins to quiver and he clutches his chest in terror, a visible panic setting in…

Meanwhile, back at the homestead:

“Hey Fiona, it’s Marcie, listen I need a big favor. I’m going up to my folk’s house like we talked about to watch over things for a few days while mom is in the hospital.”

“No, nothing serious, but I was wondering if you can keep an eye on Bridget at the Feis. I mean, God I love that man, but you know how Bob is…”

“Thanks Fiona, I knew I could count on you.”

We join Bob again, now surrounded by stage wranglers:

“Looks like this Feis suddenly got a little more entertaining folks,” Brian announced to the gathering stage crew, “Bob’s gonna be a Feis Mom!”

“Just like Driscoll!” another chimed in.

“Druh… Driscoll?” Bob asked.

“Couple three years back,” Brian rejoined, “Before your time, same situation though. Wife got called out of town the weekend of the Feis, Driscoll had to pitch in. Don’t worry, you’ll do fine! Just lace her ghillies tight, remind her to do a bloomer check, and bring plenty of duct tape!”

“Duct tape? What’s the duct tape for?”

“Duct tape is the chicken soup of an Irish dancer’s soul Bob!”

“You don’t know either.”

“No, but I’m not the Feis mom then.”

On the same stage eighteen hours later, an even larger crowd gathers:

“Ok, folks! Come on! Move back a bit and give the girl some air!” the Emergency Medical Technician gestured with his arms as he forced the swarm of onlookers away.

“My feet! I can’t feel my feet!” Bridget whimpered somewhere from the middle of the throng.

“Well there’s the problem, her shoes are laced too tight!”

“Ghillies,” Bob meekly responded.

“Say again?”

“I think they’re called ghillies.”

“Ghillies, dance shoes, whatever, we’re gonna have to cut them off at the ankle. Frank! Get the Jaws of Life!

“NOOOOOOO!” Bridget moaned in terror.

“Just kidding sweetheart. Frank! Hand me the bandage scissors there.”

“Haven’t we seen that knot before? Couple of years back?” Frank mused as he passed the scissors.

“We have indeed! It’s called a Double-Driscoll.”

Bob slowly tried to edge back into the anonymity of the crowd only to be confronted by Fiona threading her way through the flock of onlookers.

“Laced her ghillies a little tight hmmm, Bob?”

“Well I uh, Brian, uh I mean Marcie always said,” Bob began to sputter.

“No harm done. Now then, how’d you do in the slip jig, Bridget?” Marcie asked in a comforting manner, a new pair of laces in her hand.

“Great! I had good arch and point!”

“No doubt with that lacing technique! How’s the wig feel?

“It feels tight, but I don’t know, different kind of.”

“Like it’s upside down? Come here child let’s get it twisted back around straight, maybe the judge didn’t notice.”

“Now that I think of it, Marcie did say the tag went on the back,” Bob recollected in a brief moment of lucidity as Fiona put the finishing touches on Bridget’s poof.

“There you go then, now off both of you, she still has four more dances. And Bob…”

“Yes Fiona?”

“Hand over the duct tape.”

“But…”

“No buts Bob. Duct tape in the wrong hands is, well… you’ll just have to let your imagination roam on that one…”

A short while later, a duct-tape-free Bob had gradually recovered from his initial embarrassment and was watching with no small amount of pride as Bridget “pointed her toe” to begin her next competition.

“Maybe this Feis mom stuff wasn’t so bad after all,” he contemplated.

Two days after, Bob sat quietly at the kitchen table as Marcie plopped down her suitcase in the living room.

“So how did everything go at the Feis?”

Without looking up from his paper Bob replied, “Fine, just fine! Why, what have you heard?”

“Are these her results?” Marcie said picking up Bridget’s marks sheet from the counter.

“Wow! Second place in slip jig! That’s quite an improvement!”

“And a second in treble jig and hornpipe too!” Bob added with obvious pleasure.

“Hmmm… What’s this one slip jig comment, ‘Wig LOL’?”

“I uh, well… BRIDGET! Come on up here, Mom’s home!”

Zebadiah Beauregard

It’s Sunday. “And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made.” (Genesis 2:2. Unfortunately, there is no rest for the wicked or for mothers who begat Irish dancers. Sunday means Feis Day! Read more

As I See It

Exploring recurring issues that beguile folks in Irish dancing and more discussion on the matter of dance costumes. Are dance dresses becoming too short?

By Russell J. Beaton, ADCRG

Read more