The first is that apparently, I'm no longer the head adult in charge of raising my son anymore. That duty has been passed on to the marching band director and the basketball coach, both of whom spend more time with my child each than I do. Mark's at basketball practice at least three hours a day, and the time he isn't there, he's in the band room or on the football field practicing.
I've seen the marching band perform a couple times so far--once during their weekly 3-hour night practice. I didn't know what exactly to expect--the kids had only been in school a week, so I didn't know how much they'd learned. Turns it, they learned a lot.
I'd also watched them at the first home football game. The kids played a pre-game show for the parents, which I loved.
The game itself was a little bit of an ADHD nightmare for me--I don't know if you've ever been to a high school football game, but turns out, there's a LOT going on there. At one point, the band was warming up in the left hand corner of the field, the drill team was dancing across from them, the color guard was waving flags and throwing rifles in another corner, and the football game was playing in the middle of the field. There were cheerleaders--both the home team and the visitors--jumping and shouting in front of us. All around me, parents were cheering on their kids, and students were strolling through the bleachers, calling out to each other. It was a little overwhelming to pick one thing to focus on, so I gave up and stared at my smart phone instead. I paid attention when the band was on field, but only then.
This weekend was the second football game--homecoming! My parents came up to watch the band (although they liked the football as well), as did my cousin Kathleen and her husband, Juan. We braved the massive crowds, and the football game, until finally, half-time arrived and the band took the field.
They were great! It was amazing to see my kid, completely focused, staring intently at the drum major leading the band. Mark watched his every move, playing his timpani drums perfectly. He also played a set of blocks before returning back to his drums, and not once did he goof off or become distracted. It was enthralling to watch. I was so proud of him, and--I'll admit it--I was a little emotional by the end of the performance.
Mark got home late after the game--I picked him up at 10:30. He was still wound up, but I sent him to bed anyway, because the next day was a big one--his first marching band competition.
I spent the day running errands and going to the movies while Mark was gone. Finally, in the early evening, I drove to Newport Beach to watch them perform in the competition.
I watched four different bands perform, and they were all vastly different. Gone are the days of bands simply playing upbeat songs and rallying the crowds--now it's about performing just as much as it is about music.
As the first band set up, the stadium announcer started reading off "air grams." For a dollar, you can write up a message to your kid, which the announcer reads as they set up. There were lots of generic predictable messages--"Brittany, mom and dad love you and we're so proud of you!" But my very favorite was from a funny dad. The announcer said, "John, this message is from your dad--Pay attention!"
The whole stadium burst into laughter, as a small kid on the field raised up his arms incredulously toward them. He shook his head and held out his hands, like "Really, Dad???" It was hilarious--and now I can't wait to send my own messages to Mark at the next competition!
The first band was a little---surreal. I don't want to be mean, but it played almost like a Saturday Night Live skit. It started with a couple singers. Behind them, the band marched across the field, while the drill team danced between them. One girl carried a glittery beach ball, dancing very dramatically. It was all kind of funny.
Mark's band was up next. They. Were. AWESOME!!! I know I'm totally biased, but I loved it! The best thing was that there was no one else on the field, and no other activities going on or distracting me. It was just the band performing, and I could totally focus on them.
Mark rocked the timpani (timpanies?) and the blocks, changing up his mallets and moving where he was supposed to. It was a great performance, the best one I've seen so far!
The next band was pretty good, too, although their music was a lot more dark and moody. It was ominous, like the music in a scary movie that warns you something bad is about to happen. They performed well, but it was not my favorite.
The last band was also good. You could tell they've practiced a lot, and really perfected their show. They moved seamlessly across the field, cutting across chaotically, and then suddenly appearing back in straight lines. The kids added a lot of movement, dancing, swaying dramatically, and just putting on a good visual performance. The only thing I didn't like was that their music suffered a bit because of it. The movement was definitely the focus of their performance, not the music.
I left after that. There were still a couple hours left, but I saw my favorite band, and left on a high note.
When I picked Mark up at 10 that night, he'd had a full day. I expected him to be exhausted, with a side of grumpy and hungry, but he wasn't. He was happy, and reported that his band won first place in percussion. He was thrilled to be part of that.
And I was thrilled for him. He'd spent the past 36 hours deeply enmeshed in band practice and performances, and he loved every minute of it. For him, it wasn't work, it was time hanging out with his friends.
And for that, I am grateful--grateful that he's learning so much and getting along so well, and grateful that he's enjoying himself. I'm also a little grateful to have some time to myself, although now that my kid's always at practice of some kind, I kinda miss him, and would enjoy some time with him, too.
But in the meantime, he's having a blast. And I'm having a blast watching him blossom and grow from all of it...
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