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I am loving all this Spring weather around here. Bring on the Global Warming, if it means more sun! All this sun — even in patches — has gotten me in the mood for a vacation. So, my question for you all today is: What is your dream vacation? or if that is too much to wrap your mind around, how about this: Where would you just love to go for Spring break?
For me, I will take anywhere that is not my house. I’m thinking like down the street in someone else’s house while they are away would probably re-charge me. But, to be true to my own question, I will say that my dream vacation is a toss up between Italy and Greece. I’ve never been to either, but I have wanted to go to Greece ever since a college buddy told me about his adventures in Greece one of which involved another friend winding up in the back of some local’s truck and driving off into the darkness after … well… indulging in the local greek beers a tad too much. Of course, that isn’t why I want to go there. He also described the beaches and the food. And Italy… oh please just get me to Florence where I can feed he English -Teacher-Nerd-Esque part of me by walking where Dante walked. That and the gelato. And the art. And the countryside. I will stop now.
How about you?
My kids are in band.
My husband was the DRUM-MAJOR at his high school… so, yeah… my kids were doomed to be band-geeks. I was on drill team in high school, so I got to parade around in short little skirt and swivel my hips while said band nerds played “Tequila” at football games. I am not sure what this dooms my kids to be… I won’t go there.
But in all fairness the band at the local junior high is full of the cool kids. Largely in part to an amazing band director who wins, like, POPULARITY contests for being the coolest teacher in the whole wide world. Nobody stands a chance against this guy. So…. back to what I was saying… my kids (and everyone else’s) are in band.
So, last week I went to the band concert. They call it a “gig” which, to me, is more like a cool dude with a guitar in a coffee shop, but I’ll go with it for now. So, I went to the band gig. Izzy was playing in the 6th grade band (trumpet) and Jade was playing in the 8th grade band (clarinet). I left the two littlies at home with Dave, but took Lily (who plans on joining next year and playing the flute) with me.
We arrive at the junior high, head to the gym, and climb to the top of the bleachers. We cuddle in with a bunch of peeps from the hood (I know that I live in a suburb, but every so often I like to speak the speak, ya know?) I end up sitting next to Lily and 3 of her buddies from 4th grade. Which is possibly THE MOST embarrassing thing that has ever happened to Lily. I mean… can you even stand it? Her Aunt sat NEXT to her in public?
But back to me…
As I am sitting there listening to “Go Tell Aunt Rhodie” and “Old MacDondald Had a Farm” for the third year in a row, the numbers started to calculate in my head. And then I realized that because of the way my kids were spaced out, I had 15 MORE YEARS of band concerts in front of me. Oh yes… 15 more years. Then the images began to flash.
The people around me would change, but I would be the one constant at all the concerts for the next 15 years. There was like this time-lapse photography thing going on in my head of me sitting in the same place on the bleachers while the people around me changed – most of whom will be younger than me. I would keep getting older and my eyes would glaze over just a bit more each year. The rest of the parents would come and go and I would still be there… in 15 years.
15
I wonder if I will be wearing the same jeans and Old Navy t-shirt, with my hair up in a pony tail. Will they refer to me as “that old crazy woman with all the band kids.” Will my husband continue to run marathons, but me… my braggin’ rights will be endless band concerts on rock hard bleachers listening to wobbly renditions of “Aura Lee.”
But I guess this is what I signed up for. I look across the gym and see Izzy waving at me from opposite bleachers where the 6th graders are waiting to perform. I wave back with a big smile and lots of kiss-blowing. I swell with joy as I watch a collection of little girls that Izzy met in 3rd grade who are now not-so-little perform flute solos, flute duets and trios, and a saxophone solo. These beautiful girls whose mothers I love and who were Izzy’s very first friends. I couldn’t help but bob my head a bit as they played. When they finished, they bend their heads to receive medals for their bravery and I snap pictures because they are soooo brave. So beautiful. I see Jade hanging out with her friends that she met in band — good, no, great kids who love music and Jesus and each other. I see the cute boy that knocked on our door to pick Jade up for youth group perform in a trombone trio and although I know Jade and he are just friends (really), I am glad that she knows him and that there are boys of his caliber in her life. And when the 8th grade band performs a overture from “The Music Man”, they are actually good. And fun to listen to. And I was proud of them all.
So, after the concert I went down to take the required pictures, which I now realize will be in every family photo album for the next (wait for it) 15 years.
My Band Kids
Which is very, very cool.
Please tell me that I am not the only one out there who tilts their head and says “huh?” when their husband does something the “wrong” way.
I mean, okay, I will stipulate that I need to chill sometimes. Micromanagement is a genetic disorder in my family (yes, mom, you have it, too…).
But sometimes I am simply stunned into silence (well, not really…) at the things that Dave does.
While making lunch: ”You did NOT just put syrup on the kids’ peanut butter sandwiches?!”
While helping with the baby: “Are you actually going to change the baby’s poopie diaper while she is STANDING UP?”
While sorting laundry: “How did you confuse my t-shirt (or stranger still, my underwear…) with Jade’s?”
I am very lucky to have a husband who helps, but sometimes… no, no… most of the time, I just don’t get it.
I don’t know why I am struggling so much with this.
With THIS… this… thing called Kindergarten.
The mere thought of it sends me to the liquor cabinet.
I just turned in the registration packet for Ty to start Kindergarten in the fall. I was a good little trooper and filled out all the forms with the emergency contacts and the release to put his name in the school directory. I dutifully circled all the skills he has: can hop on one foot, can recite the alphabet, knows his phone number, etc. I even wrote a little bit extra about “who he is” — that he is senstive and notices everything, that he will be bored with tasks too easy, that he will be devastated by emotional outburts or criticism. I have gone to the school and seen the classroom. I feel like I have done all the right things. I’ve been a good mom.
And I also think I have an ulcer.
It’s not has if I have not lived my life with Ty to the fullest. I have. I left a career that I loved (and was good at) to be home with him because I wanted to. I have no regrets about my time at home with him… the trips to the zoo, the grocery shopping together, the hours of hanging out while the girls were at school. But now that he is getting ready to launch this new adventure, I know I am going to really miss him.
Ty at 15 Months
Oh great, I am a wreck and it’s only February. This has made me realize that I am going to need medication come September. And shopping. Probably new shoes.
When Ty found out that he will be starting Kindergarten in the fall, and that Lily will be at the same school (albeit in the 5th grade classroom). He was reassured. He said, “Good. If Lily is there and I have to go poop, she can help me.” I won’t even go into the look of dismay that flooded Lily’s face — it defies description. But we all nodded and said, “Yup, she’ll be there to help you.” And then he said, “And if I am sad, I can tell them to get Lily and she can come hug me.” And we all said, “Yes. She will come give you a hug.” And then he said, “And the teachers will LET me get her, right?”
“They damn well better!!!” I said.
Ty and Lily 2009
And crazily enough, this actually began to reassure me, too.
So, here we go. The countdown until Kindergarten. I think Ty will be fine. But me? The jury is still out.
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