I step out of my car, shaking my head with a laugh and close the door.

My fourteen year old daughter, Breanne, just tried out for cheerleading for her Freshman year. She cheered on Junior High the past two years. She’d been upset all day since tryouts ended, claiming she did horribly and probably won’t make the Junior Varsity team. I’m sure she will though and is just paranoid as always.

I reassured her multiple times that even if she doesn’t make it, it will be okay. It is a lot harder to make Junior Varsity than it is to make Junior High.

She jumped out of the car about two minutes ago before I got out, because she was anxious to see the list. That’s my daughter all right - full of anxiety, stress, and worry.

I begin walking to the front of the gymnasium where the results are posting for all three teams: Junior High, Junior Varsity, and Varsity. I get about halfway to the front when I hear excited screaming coming my way and feel a body jump into mine.

“I made Varsity!” Breanne shouts through tears, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck. “Varsity!”

“What?” I ask excitedly. “I thought they said they weren’t putting Freshmen on Varsity this year, and that some Sophomores wouldn’t even make that team.”

“They did,” she responds. “They did say that, but four of us made it. Only four! And I was one of them!”

Tears are streaming down her face, and I feel them starting behind mine as well. “I’m so proud of you,” I say.

We walk together to the door, so we can see who all made what team. We get there and look for a minute when I hear, “We made Varsity!” behind me.

I turn around and see my daughter being lifted into the air and spun around by her friend since Kindergarten who made Varsity as well.

My heart swells seeing the happiness on their faces. I can’t wait to see how amazing this year goes for them. I have to be the proudest mom on the Earth at this moment.