Right now I am in the throes of the marching band season. I'm officially a Band Parent. Nolan is in marching band and it has taken over my whole life.
It's not like I'm performing myself or anything like that, it's just between making sure he's on time for the zero hour to making sure he's still on top of his homework to volunteering myself for the myriad of things that need to be done to keep the band things going; coupled with working and taking care of the other three, I barely can stay up until 10.
I will pay for this in the morning, let me tell you.
It's great fun being a band parent though. I've learned all kinds of things:
*that the word "shako" means hat, and not some new dance move
*that the show is the icing on the cake after weeks and weeks and hours and hours and hours of rehearsal
*there's no wrong way to insert a plume, but it better be straight
*bibs aren't just for babies
*watching from the track can be dangerous (don't lock your knees) (watch out for the football players)
*how to handle food (got my food handlers' license to work the concession stand--nachos, anyone?)
*riding the schoolbus is not a bad thing--it's a giant, yellow, limo. I can text in traffic and it's legal. :)
*timing is everything
Oh, yes. Timing. I am coming to understand that what I was told by former band folk is true. Band geeks are always on time. Their adage, "if you're not fifteen minutes early, you're late" is now my daily mantra. Who would ever have believed that "I'm running late" would slowly move out of my regular repertoire? As always, the child is dictating when I get up and I'm forced to be ON TIME. This hasn't happened since before he was weaned, and it's a feat I am starting to be proud of. Punctuality! What a concept!
I've enjoyed working the concession stand, even if I feel like I can't look at a hot dog or a vat of nacho cheese ever again by the end of the night. I smell like jalapenos and popcorn with a hint of churro by the time I get home. The dogs love me.
When I imagined being followed by admirers, having the dogs sniff away, tails wagging, at my ass as I walk down the hall, peeling off my shirt as I make a beeline for the shower, is not exactly what I had in mind.
At this point, however, I'll take what admiring I can get.