While I'm writing this I should be working on another cover letter. I've gone back into the job hunt full tilt. I'm like the Crocodile Hunter of job hunting I'm that dedicated (except I really hope nothing kills me, no matter how ironic it is. That would suck). I've loved the Mom-time the last few months (the excessive wearing of comfy pants has been especially pleasing). If I'm going to keep up with the Care and Keeping of a Teenager, though, Mama's got to make some money.
(Some of my friends have suggested I do the sex toy parties. While I admit I think I'd be pretty freaking hilarious at that endeavor, the truth is ... who do you beg to host your first few parties? Who are your first customers? That's right, your friends, your family, your co-workers. Look, I love you ALL, but there are simply SOME THINGS I don't need to know about your lives. There would have to be an AWFUL lot of rum.)
High school is going to be freaking expensive. It's not like this is a NEW development or anything, but it's all new to ME. Up until now the only thing that's been expensive are the extracurricular things the kids have wanted to do, sports mostly. Well, sports and supplies of Axe. Axe is to this generation what Drakkar Noir was for mine. Ah, Drakkar, the smell of so much pubescent embarrassment, set to the soundtrack of a Pearl Jam/Boyz II Men soundtrack. So besides baseball, football and bad body spray, there hasn't been much.
And now... now there is band. Not *A* band. Band. As in marching band.
Truth: At my small town, middle of nowhere high school band was NOT a big deal. There wasn't a culture around it. I had a friend or two in band... and all it meant is that first or second hour they were in band class... and on certain Friday nights in the fall they played the school fight song while the student body sang along in Latin (not kidding). So when Ace chose band as his music course for sixth grade, I was just "whatever". He'd never expressed interest and neither Flake nor myself are musicians (I take that back- I do play a SPLENDID one-string-at-a-time version of Ode to Joy on the guitar. It's truly moving). We figured he'd do his one and done and that would be it. He was into sports. He played football and baseball. Except... that WASN'T it. Suddenly he's auditioning for a different instrument and then we're downloading sheet music and buying saxophones in the parking lots of McDonalds and it just got a little crazy. But still... I honestly figured it would be one more year... okay, maybe all through middle school. He was going out for 8th grade football and in high school you can't do both marching band and football... and our high school team is one of those obnoxious ones that wins a lot while the packed stadium screams for the blood of its victims.
Except... the stadium is that full in major part because of the band. The marching band. They're really good... I mean, they're the kind of good where you'll actually sit and watch at halftime. They travel all over the country to compete and march in parades and inaugurations and Waffle House openings. There are almost 300 members. You can buy hoodies and polos and caps and earwarmers with their logo. They have customized pens and shade tents. They have THEIR OWN CUSTOM SEMIS. For God's sakes, THEY HAVE THEIR OWN TRAFFIC CONES.
Traffic cones are hard to beat... so in October, after the final 8th grade football game of the season, Ace announced his intent to leave football behind and formally announce is candidacy for Band Geek. And being a Band Geek is FREAKING EXPENSIVE. All of those FEATHERED HATS. We had our first Insane Band Parent meeting on Tuesday to begin planning for next year's BIG TRIP (I'll admit, I can think of worse ways to spend New Years Eve than in California...) and they hand out this packet that has a WARNING LABEL on it: Do not open if you have heart problems, are having a bad day, operate heavy machinery around your child, or have ever considered injuring someone with a band instrument. Let's just say I could buy my kid a CAR with what band will cost next year. Not a NICE car, but I wouldn't be using Bondo and Duck tape on it either.
But there at the meeting, you look around and see all of these other crazy parents... and then they start talking about prop construction parties with beer, and trivia night fundraisers where a drink is named after the band director, and you realize that... that "Hey... I might actually fit in around here." And, like I said, there are worse things than spending your New Years in sunny SoCal, right?
So my kid's a band geek... which needs I need a job. And my own traffic cone. Seriously, those things are BAD ASS.
(Some of my friends have suggested I do the sex toy parties. While I admit I think I'd be pretty freaking hilarious at that endeavor, the truth is ... who do you beg to host your first few parties? Who are your first customers? That's right, your friends, your family, your co-workers. Look, I love you ALL, but there are simply SOME THINGS I don't need to know about your lives. There would have to be an AWFUL lot of rum.)
High school is going to be freaking expensive. It's not like this is a NEW development or anything, but it's all new to ME. Up until now the only thing that's been expensive are the extracurricular things the kids have wanted to do, sports mostly. Well, sports and supplies of Axe. Axe is to this generation what Drakkar Noir was for mine. Ah, Drakkar, the smell of so much pubescent embarrassment, set to the soundtrack of a Pearl Jam/Boyz II Men soundtrack. So besides baseball, football and bad body spray, there hasn't been much.
And now... now there is band. Not *A* band. Band. As in marching band.
Truth: At my small town, middle of nowhere high school band was NOT a big deal. There wasn't a culture around it. I had a friend or two in band... and all it meant is that first or second hour they were in band class... and on certain Friday nights in the fall they played the school fight song while the student body sang along in Latin (not kidding). So when Ace chose band as his music course for sixth grade, I was just "whatever". He'd never expressed interest and neither Flake nor myself are musicians (I take that back- I do play a SPLENDID one-string-at-a-time version of Ode to Joy on the guitar. It's truly moving). We figured he'd do his one and done and that would be it. He was into sports. He played football and baseball. Except... that WASN'T it. Suddenly he's auditioning for a different instrument and then we're downloading sheet music and buying saxophones in the parking lots of McDonalds and it just got a little crazy. But still... I honestly figured it would be one more year... okay, maybe all through middle school. He was going out for 8th grade football and in high school you can't do both marching band and football... and our high school team is one of those obnoxious ones that wins a lot while the packed stadium screams for the blood of its victims.
Except... the stadium is that full in major part because of the band. The marching band. They're really good... I mean, they're the kind of good where you'll actually sit and watch at halftime. They travel all over the country to compete and march in parades and inaugurations and Waffle House openings. There are almost 300 members. You can buy hoodies and polos and caps and earwarmers with their logo. They have customized pens and shade tents. They have THEIR OWN CUSTOM SEMIS. For God's sakes, THEY HAVE THEIR OWN TRAFFIC CONES.
Traffic cones are hard to beat... so in October, after the final 8th grade football game of the season, Ace announced his intent to leave football behind and formally announce is candidacy for Band Geek. And being a Band Geek is FREAKING EXPENSIVE. All of those FEATHERED HATS. We had our first Insane Band Parent meeting on Tuesday to begin planning for next year's BIG TRIP (I'll admit, I can think of worse ways to spend New Years Eve than in California...) and they hand out this packet that has a WARNING LABEL on it: Do not open if you have heart problems, are having a bad day, operate heavy machinery around your child, or have ever considered injuring someone with a band instrument. Let's just say I could buy my kid a CAR with what band will cost next year. Not a NICE car, but I wouldn't be using Bondo and Duck tape on it either.
But there at the meeting, you look around and see all of these other crazy parents... and then they start talking about prop construction parties with beer, and trivia night fundraisers where a drink is named after the band director, and you realize that... that "Hey... I might actually fit in around here." And, like I said, there are worse things than spending your New Years in sunny SoCal, right?
So my kid's a band geek... which needs I need a job. And my own traffic cone. Seriously, those things are BAD ASS.
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