October 31, 2009

Goal achieved. Proud parent moment: Tyler playing his solo on the jumbotron screen

Waiting for the judging results.At the end of the evening, after seeing 10 fabulous bands perform, the results were tallied. Snider received a respectable 8th place finish. Congratulation to the Snider marching band on a wonderful season! What a wonderful memory for Tyler's senior year. :)

When hard work pays big

Back in early August, Tyler and Kate (and the rest of the Snider HS marching band) began working on their competition show. Even before school began, these kids endured eight hours every day in the school parking lot -- in the often oppressive Indiana heat and humidity. They came home almost every day smelling of sunscreen and wet with sweat... hungry and exhausted. They fell into bed relatively early, only to rise the next morning and arrive at school by 9am. As the school year got underway, their practices were from 3-5pm each day, with extended hours on Thursday evenings. There were performances at football games on Friday nights, only to have to be up and at school before 7am Saturday, putting in hours of practice before departing for out of town competitions. Quite often, they would not return home until well after midnight -- sometimes 1-2am. As all this was going on, the kids were expected to handle classwork, tests and exams without missing a beat.

Their goal? Make it to state and play at Lucas Oil stadium. They narrowly missed going last year. Their fate would be determined on October 24 at semi-state competition in Indianapolis. The top 10 bands would advance to state competition on October 31. The weather in Fort Wayne that morning was less than desirable--cold, rainy, gross. As luck would have it, everything cleared and the kids had a sunny (albeit brisk) afternoon to perform in Indy. They brought it -- and brought it big time.

Kate during performance... she's in the center.

And here is Tyler's solo...

The entire band...

And the trophy for being a top 10 finishing band. On to state! And the added bonus? Both Tyler and Kate finished the first grading period with an A in every subject and on the honor roll.

Post-season

Last night marked the end of the boys' football season. The coach informed us of the traditional "fun practice" on the last night, where the team just plays a scrimmage game. Unfortunately, the boys' expectations were NOT met, and last night they proceeded to laundry list the reasons they weren't happy with the game. It became clear that this last hurrah was really a chance for the outgoing varsity players to have some fun and end on a high note -- even if that meant the coaches and refs bent the rules of play a little to give the older boys an advantage. (But really, when you're 12 and playing against 9, 10 and 11 year olds... don't you already have the advantage?)

Today we turn in equipment at the PAL center. I clearly remember the day Jack and Charlie got their equipment, when their eyes literally sparkled with anticipation of the coming season. Today? I predict I will see two boys who have grown in both their love of the sport and skill level. They will take with them memorized plays, the language of which still sounds like jibberish to me. They will take with them the pride in always playing hard and giving their all -- and never, NEVER quitting.

I will take with me the rush of pride and spirit I felt when I saw 8 and 12 out on the field. And a whole bunch of photographs of the same.

Together we will look forward to next year, when they will move up to the JV orange squad. We will anticipate them beginning practices in the sweltering, often-oppressive heat of August, and ending their season at a championship game on a crisp, cool October morning.

Here's to you Jack and Charlie... and the rest of the Raiders. Great job this season. There may not be a trophy with your name on it this year, but go forward and make next year YOUR year!

Snapshots

How many kids does it take to dislodge a football from the neighbor's brilliantly colored tree? Apparently just four. Because the adult who walked over to help (me) was absolutely no help at all.

Sam hard at work carving his pumpkin. While it struck fear into the depths of my soul, I let him use a safety knife to do the dirty work. Yes, even a safety knife makes me uneasy. 'Cause, really? Any implement called a "knife," isn't 100 percent safe to me.

These are the rest of the pumpkin creations. From left, Jack's, Charlie's and Kate's. These were made at James & Jenny's annual pumpkin party last weekend. It's a great party -- you BYOP (bring your own pumpkin) and they provide all sorts of decorations. And food. Lots of delicious food. Unfortunately, Sam had a rough time last weekend and found himself grounded... thus missing the party. Hated to do it, but when you're seven, you don't mouth off to and disrespect your mother. Ever. It all worked out OK, though, because he and I went to pick out his pumpkin Monday and we carved it together. Well, HE carved. I took pictures. And prayed the "safety knife" lived up to its name.

Little life lessons

This past weekend, we took a day-trip to see Tyler and Kate's marching band perform at regionals. One of my oldest and best friends, Maria, (and by "oldest" I mean we've been friends for 27 years) happened to be attending this competition because her daughter is on color guard for another high school. We were so excited to be able to see each other and watch our kids all perform. Unfortunately, her son developed a fever, so she stayed home with him.

The afternoon took a few weird turns, due to weather in the area and seemingly poor planning on behalf of the music association. A wave of rain left the football field too muddy for the bands to use, relegating them to the host school's back parking lot. That left spectators (us) to stand on our choice of adjacent pavement, tennis courts or muddy grass. Damned if the muddy grass had the best view, so that's where we ended up. Pair those tidbits with the fact that the weather also delayed the start time by and hour (due to more impending rain), and there were half-a-gazillion people trying to find parking spots in a relatively small lot, and you've got a potentially volatile situation on your hands.

In the end, it wasn't a bad experience. The second wave of rain held off, we were able to watch Snider give a wonderful performance (including Tyler's trumpet solo) and we got to see the kids right after they finished. Because of the conditions, we didn't stay as long as planned, so that allowed a little more time to visit my brother's family who lives in the area. We picked up pizzas and soda, and pretty much invited ourselves over for a while before heading out on the two-hour drive home.

On the way home, I reflected on the day and realized the little life lessons encountered along the way:

* Always be flexible with your plans. Having a Plan B waiting in the wings helps.
* Gold lame is neither a flattering, nor forgiving fabric. (Special note for color guard costume decision-makers.)
* When the kids have been working hard on their show, almost every day since August 3, enduring outdoor practice in sweltering heat, rain and (most recently) 40 degree weather, you DO NOT get to bitch about standing to watch them perform or getting a little bit of mud on your shoes.
* Often times, the more expensive the car, the more inconsiderate the driver. Not always, but I'm just sayin'.
* Getting teary-eyed with pride at your stepchildren's performance can take you by surprise, and clearly erases the word "step" from the beginning of that word.
* When you invite yourself to someone's house (even family) come bearing gifts -- or at least food.

And, proving that every dark cloud has a silver lining, both our school and Maria's daughter's have advanced to semi-state. This means, while we missed getting together last weekend, we can look forward to seeing each other in Indianapolis this coming weekend.

I love it when Karma smiles on us.

Up, up and away!

You just know this is water-cooler talk across the country today: the "Balloon Boy debacle."

Jack, Charlie and I found ourselves pretty glued to the television as Headline News broadcast every last breaking detail about the situation. They were captivated by such an idea -- a homemade helium-type balloon, big enough to carry away a 6 yr. old. I made mental note to keep Sam in sight for, oh... say, the next 10 years, so these budding geniuses didn't create schematics and send their little brother sailing through the friendly skies above Indiana. Or take a jaunty joy-ride themselves.

Oh, believe me. In my life, it would happen. But they'd go about it a bit differently.

1.) They would hatch their plan and execute it without alerting anyone, including myself and Jeff. We happen to pride ourselves on staying one step ahead of these guys, nipping potential problems in the bud, before things that seem like "such a good idea" turn into disasters. But this project? A giant, shimmery, gas-filled balloon? Yeah, this would be the one they succeed in hiding. Well.

2.) A flight plan would be created. Taking a joy-ride is one thing. Taking a joy-ride with a destination in mind is pure genius when you're 10.

3.) Snacks would be packed. And none of those jinky, vacuum-packed peanuts. There would be a cache of chewy granola bars, cereal and Gatorade. Probably a case of Mtn. Dew, as well, since I won't be there to say "no." And don't forget all that Halloween candy.

4.) Self-defense? A keen arsenal of Nerf guns and foam-rubber darts should do the trick.

5.) Personal DVD players, movies, and Nintendo DS games would be made available for in-flight entertainment. Don't forget the iPods.

6.) Of course, no need to worry about life-threatening crashes or similar worst-case scenarios. They would have everything planned and accounted for... because when you're 10, you have an immediate plan to tackle any situation. And live to tell about it.

I left a title off this one simply because I just couldn't think of clever words to sum up the head-banging-against-a-brick-wall frustration called my visit to Target last night with two 10-yr olds.

Jack and Charlie wanted to go out shopping for Halloween costumes. Having amassed a collection of gift cards from past birthdays, I saw a win-win situation here: we go to Target, they get costumes and pay with gift cards... without so much as a swipe of our debit card. See? Win-win.

They had $35 each to spend.

Charlie was the first to choose a costume. As we strolled the aisles, we happened by the back wall display -- a seemingly endless trough filled with bags upon bags of "fun size" candy bars. The boys? Lost. Their. Minds.

Them: "Can we get some?"
Me: (hesitant, but trying to avoid turning into the Sugar Nazi too early) "Ummm, sure."

The boys practically dive head first into said trough, coming up with armloads of bags.

Me: "STOP!"

I explain that in two short weeks, they will be hip-deep in candy. Jack counters with, "So, what's your point?" I suppress the urge to throttle him, and further explain that they really don't need a head start on destroying their body chemistry and depleting their (much needed) immune systems with all that sugar right now. (OK. I went a little Sugar Nazi on them right there.) I talk them down to two bags each. Moving on, Jack finds a costume. Then they both spy little, ugly, useless, rubbery skulls on elastic bands. Of course. So then, Jack, being the ever-talented, budding math whiz quickly calculates his purchases in his head: costume, $17; walking staff with light-up skull on top, $10; two bags of candy, $6; rubbery skull, $2. Perfect. $35 on the nose.

I'm all, "Hang on there cowboy... you have to figure in sales tax." He balks. And by balks, I mean a visible show of disgust, as if I'd just told him I'd fixed chicken beak tacos for dinner. With a side of mealworms.

"I don't wanna pay sales tax!" he laments. Oh, sweet child. Welcome to life.

"Yes, Jack... no one does. But you have to," I say.

"Well.... can't you cover the tax for me?"

"Um, that would be a solid n-o."

Again, he balks, trying to make me feel like the worst mother in the history of the world. Ha. You're going to have to work a little harder, since you've shared that opinion quite a few times over the past decade.

"You could always put a bag of candy back," I say. "That might help."

He is horrified at such a thought. In fact, in the ensuing conversation/debate/argument (which, I'm sure, was enjoyed by all Target patrons within earshot) I explain the seven percent tax, and what it means for the bottom line of his purchase. He finds it necessary to keep wailing about the injustice of how I won't cover a few measly bucks. Of course I could. But by this point, I was rolling with the principle of the situation and teaching a life lesson on spending within a set budget. I mean, grown ups don't pick out groceries willy-nilly, get to the check-out and wheel around to the person in line behind them to say, "I'm a tad short here. Howzabout you cover me?" You stick to your budget. Period.

We finally find a mutually-acceptable agreement that in no way demanded me plunking down MY debit card for his purchase, and him chucking the ugly, rubbery skull back into the bin, and snarling, "Are you happy now?" Pfft. Like I was the one to invent sales tax just to ruin a 10-yr. old's good time.

In the end, they ended up with pretty cool costumes. And a shitload of candy.

You want to talk scary? I've all but debated economic principles with a 10-yr. old. In Target of all places. Bring on Halloween.