Editor’s Note: This post is part of my ongoing Mamma Mia journey. To see where it all began, check out Mamma Mia! The Party at the 02, London, All The World’s A Mamma Mia Stage, and No Sad Songs with Mamma Mia!
When Words Fail, Pictures Sing
If it’s true that pictures speak louder than words, then our family photo albums are practically belting out ABBA tunes! As empty nesting looms, I’ve been flipping through our Mamma Mia Memory Lane scrapbook, realizing that somehow, this Swedish pop group has transformed us into Dancing Queens—even through life’s biggest transitions.
Our family’s Mamma Mia Memory Lane continues with four minutes of pure joy, costumes, and sequins.
From Reluctant Mom to Dancing Queen (Age 49)
“I can’t go out there,” I whispered backstage. A fellow cast member reassured me: everyone feels this way their first time.
Little did I know that one step onto the stage would ignite a family tradition.
Turning 50? ABBA had a song for that. Daughter growing up too fast? ABBA again. Empty nest anxiety? Cue Dancing Queen and let the worries dissolve into sequins and platform boots.
Dancing Queens Take London (Age 50)
Turning 50 called for something spectacular. We planned this trip meticulously, down to Alex ordering a tiger suit. Why? No clue. But when we arrived at Mamma Mia! The Party and someone said, “ABBA sings about the tiger, how brilliant!”—it all made sense.
Embarrassment turned to euphoria as the magic of the Greek taverna unfolded.
The Family Pose Legacy
This pose started in Ireland, three weeks before the show. Practicing dances in every scenic location, Alex documenting it all. And then—our signature stance was born.
Returning home to a hero’s welcome—bagpipes in the driveway, pink streamers, and Dancing Queen blasting. Every ring of the cowbell declared: not even cancer could stop this Dancing Queen.
From Mamma Mia to Taylor Swift
From chemo celebrations to Taylor Swift concerts, our ABBA-inspired pose became our family’s way of saying, we’ve got this.
The Next Generation Dancing Queen (Age 17)
My daughter as Tanya, commanding the stage.
Six years after our Ireland adventure, my daughter took center stage in Does Your Mother Know—the same girl who once hid her face in our first ABBA photos.
The irony? She sang Dancing Queen—young and sweet, only 17—just as she had chosen Dancing Queen as her 17th birthday theme. The legacy had come full circle.
Passing the Dancing Queens Torch
Expecting an eye-roll, I braced myself. Instead, she beamed. Even teenagers can’t resist parents who embrace absurdity.
For the first time, Alexandra took my spot in the middle. A simple shift that told the story of time slipping through my fingers—even with ABBA as our soundtrack.
This is my dress rehearsal for empty nesting. Five weeks while my daughter studies in Spain, before the real thing next summer. Just like Donna watching Sophie sail away to adventure, I’m learning that being a Dancing Queen isn’t about staying in the spotlight—it’s about knowing when to step aside and cheer as the next generation takes their moment.
I’ve passed the Dancing Queen torch. May my daughters wear the crown proudly in their own way. Perhaps that’s the greatest gift of our Mamma Mia journey: knowing that the music never stops—it just finds new dancers to carry it forward.
Brilliant!
You’re brilliant!! Love and hugs!!!
Stephanie, I don’t know what your range as a singer is, but as a writer you have ‘perfect pitch!’
A spiritual blend of teaching without preaching…
And I believe that the deeper our faith the sharper of our awareness becomes, and your personal observations about family clearly shows you are fully present in this world and fully prepared for the next world.
With love and gratitude,
Tim
Oh, how you make my heart sing!! You have such a gift with words! Thanks to you I can now say I have perfect pitch—as long as you don’t ask me to sing a note! And I love how you get the spiritual nuances. It takes me a long time, I doubt the significance and then they somehow magically appear. It’s fun that you see them too!! (We’re not alone). Love and hugs!!!!
Mamma Mia!!! (“My Goodness!!!”), excellent. And yes, I love pictures – especially these – but your words always sing! Your lunch break photo is a real treat. 😊 How much fun witnessing such joy, no matter what is happening!! This merits a forever tradition indeed.
I perfectly remember your post-chemo Dancing Queen blasting with the cow bell and “Gratitude” on the board. You’re a master teacher of life with your “unstoppable-ness.” It’s a God-given gift you share unconditionally. I’m beyond my dress rehearsal for empty nesting, but I promise that stepping aside and cheering your girls, and their girls, will be just as fun because I know the music will never stop for you!
Thank you for sharing what really matters – the Dancing Queens Trio! May the Mamma Mia pose live forever and beyond!! Your legacies keep coming full circle – perfectly. Felicidades!! Love you always..
Thank you dear Nuria!! A muse is never complete without you! And, with family like you, the music can never stop. If I’m not feeling it, I know you will be! And before long we’ll both be dancing again! Writing this muse was cathartic! It made me feel so good—how can I be sad when the music is this good? To Dancing Queens strutting our stuff forever and ever Amen!!! Love you so!! xoxo