If you’d have told me five years ago that I’d be a dance mom, I’d have given you side-eyes with a firm, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” It’s funny how unexpected things end up happening in life. Fifteen competitions, dozens of tights, countless dance shoes, bun after bun after bun, and many pointed toes later, I am officially a dance mom. Me. The ungraceful, only-took-dance-in-kindergarten, no-time-for-drama, foodie, writer, social media geek. A. Dance. Mom. I’ll tell you what. I’ve learned something over the past five years about dance moms, dance studios, and dance companies. The biggest lesson being this:…