We are the champions

Mark went out for track this year. His team was really good, a fast team, and they ended up winning the championship title for their division.

The season lasted only four weeks, but it was enough to net Mark tickets to not one, but TWO, sports banquets last week.

The first was put on by a local philanthropy group, the Century Club. (Coincidentally, they've only been around for 55 years! I couldn't stop giggling about that. Maybe century is what they aspire to.) We were invited to a barbecue and the awards ceremony afterwards.

My friend Karen told me Mark's school always dress up for this banquet--collared shirts and ties. Mark didn't mind, because he just got a new bow tie, which he loves, and had  already worn for three days straight. He was excited to wear it again.

But that excitement died down as soon as I pulled into the parking lot. Two kids in shorts and t-shirts walked by, prompting loud protests from both Mark and his friend Sean.

"What!" they exclaimed. "Rip off! No one else is dressed up!" They refused to get out of the car.

"Let's go!" I told them, but Sean wouldn't leave until he'd put on a sweatshirt and zipped it up to his neck.

I signed us all in, and the boys made a beeline for the food. Plates in hand, we surveyed the dining area, until I spotted their coach, Mr. Sam.

"Do you mind if we join you?" I asked, and he smiled, offering up some chairs. Mark and Sean ditched me, moving four seats away.

I sighed. "Well, do you mind if I join you?" I asked, and Mr. Sam just smiled again. I can't believe I've got two more years of middle school left--I'm only one year into it, and I'm already tired of being invisible and ignored by my obnoxious son.

The boys were still grousing about being dressed up.

"Don't worry, at least one other kid will dress up," I called out. "Jonah will be here any minute. And besides, it won't kill you to dress up occasionally for a special event."

They both snorted. Apparently, they disagreed.

Sean's mom, Liz, arrived. The boys ran off to the banquet room, and, after Liz finished, we followed. The room was huge, filled with hundreds of people.

Liz and I found seats toward the back, where we could gossip and talk without disrupting the ceremony. It didn't even occur to me to look for the boys until about 30 minutes later.

"Where do you think they're sitting?" Liz asked.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I just assumed they were in here somewhere." Yeah, parenting a pre-teen is a lot less hands-on than parenting a little kid!

The ceremony started with, of all things, a spelling bee. Now, I'm not perpetuating stereotypes, or making judgments, but this seemed...out of place. We watched kid after kid go down, misspelling almost every word they got.

"What the heck?" I whispered to Liz. "These kids are ATHLETES! They excel in sports, not academics!" But God bless the incredibly optimistic Century Club MC, who also threw out some math problems later on. He sure seemed to have a lot of faith in the kids' scholastic abilities!

The MC was hilarious--he was intent on making jokes, paying more attention to what he said, than what the kids said. The spelling bee finals came down to one girl from Mark's school, and a boy from another school. The MC asked the girl, Kailey, her name every single time he handed her the mic to spell a word. Even then, he couldn't remember it.

"This is a big word," he warned her. "So think hard, Kimberly."

"KAILEY!" yelled every kid from Mark's school.

"That's what I said," he told them. And then he immediately asked Kailey her name again on the next round.

We sat through a whole lot of awards, until finally, our school was called. It was pretty easy to spot our boys then--Sean and Jonah walked up onstage like gentleman, and waited politely. Mark, surrounded by girls, pushed his way to the front, where he raised his arms triumphantly, and gestured for applause. He popped his collar, adjusted his bow tie, and winked at the audience. I sank into my seat, while Liz laughed out loud.

The awards kept on coming, tons and tons of them. At one point, the MC implored the audience to stick around till the end, for a special award. It hadn't even occurred to me to leave until he said that, and I immediately became restless.

Luckily, we didn't have to wait long. The evening ended with the big award, for sportsmanship, as chosen by all the schools. Mark's school won, and erupted into a giant screaming mass of middle schoolers. They ran onstage, where they proudly posed for pictures for the local newspaper with their coaches and the principal. Sean hid next to the podium, and there was Mark, down in front, flashing a double thumbs up to the photographer. He may be a runner, but he's also quite a ham, as well.

All in all, it was a really nice night. I still think it lasted longer than the actual track season, but hey, we got free dinner. And Mark got a spiffy plaque to take home, and a few minutes onstage. So everyone went home happy, even though their terribly mean moms forced them to dress up.