To All the Theatre Moms: Happy Mother’s Day, You Deserve a Standing Ovation

by Chris Peterson, OnStage Blog Founder

There’s a special kind of mom who knows how to wield a hot glue gun better than any set designer, who can apply stage makeup in the backseat of a moving car, and who has memorized the lyrics to Newsies not because she wanted to—but because you played Jack Kelly for three straight months in your bedroom mirror.

I’m talking about theatre moms.

You know them. Maybe you are one. The moms who sat through every tech run, every preview, every final bow. The ones who brought snacks for the cast, picked up forgotten costume pieces, and always—always—clapped the loudest, even if their kid was third tree from the left. Especially if their kid was third tree from the left.

These moms are the unsung heroes of the arts. They make the magic happen behind the curtain, in the carpool lane, and at the kitchen table late at night, where they gently talk their exhausted, overwhelmed child out of a meltdown over a missed lyric or a dropped dance step. They cheer through the stumbles and the breakthroughs. They know every cue, every costume change, and every emotional rollercoaster that comes with chasing the spotlight—because they’ve ridden it right alongside you.

Theatre moms are part life coach, part therapist, part line prompter, part chauffeur. And let’s be honest: they’re usually the unofficial stage manager of the whole production.

Some moms watched us fall in love with theatre from the beginning, holding our hands through the nerves of our first audition and beaming through the shaky first performance. Some didn’t know what to make of the whole thing at first—but they leaned in anyway, offering support even if they couldn’t tell Wicked from Waitress. Some were the moms who drove three hours to see a 12-minute college showcase. Some were the moms who never missed a single show, no matter what. Some are no longer with us—but we still feel them every time we take the stage.

And yes, this includes the moms who gave birth to us—and the ones who didn’t. Stepmoms, aunties, grandmas, teachers, mentors, family friends—they all count. Theatre has a way of expanding the definition of “mother” to include anyone who lifts you up when you forget how to stand. Anyone who believes in you when you flub a callback or miss your entrance. Anyone who reminds you that you are more than one role, one show, one mistake.

Personally, I was incredibly lucky. My mom has always been supportive of my love for theatre, even when she didn’t totally understand what I was doing or why I was doing it. She showed up to every performance, big or small, and cheered like it was the Tonys. Her belief in me never wavered, and I carry that with me still.

This Mother’s Day, let’s take a moment to say thank you.

Thank you for the sacrifices. The missed weekends. The car rides. The alterations. The emotional labor. The financial juggling act it took to get us to rehearsals, lessons, and ticketed performances. Thank you for pretending not to notice how nervous we were before curtain. Thank you for telling us it went great—even when it very much did not.

And thank you most of all for seeing us—really seeing us—as artists, as storytellers, as dreamers.

To all the theatre moms out there: your name may not be on the playbill, but you are the reason the show goes on.

Happy Mother’s Day.