Part of our May Frenzy around here involved the boy’s band concert last night. What you need to know is that the temperature in Small Town, USA’s high school’s auditorium was exactly 393 degrees.
We combined all that heat with a little thing known as STANDING ROOM ONLY, so there were a lot of bodies, giving off sweat and trying to lean forward in their seats, to get their shirts to peel off their backs. Or… at least I was leaning forward, trying to do exactly that. I believe the phrase you’re looking for is BRINGING SEXY BACK.
And then we threw Thing 2 into the mixture, so we were basically sitting in the perfect storm of LET’S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD. IT’S HOT, AND WE HAVE THIRTEEN ENTIRE MINUTES BEFORE I HAVE A PRESCHOOLER WHO STANDS UP AND ANNOUNCES HIS BOREDOM TO THE CONDUCTOR.
Even though I leaned over to Hubs no fewer than seven times to whisper, “I’m about to faint from heat exhaustion,” the concert went very well. Thing 2 was on his best behavior, and he clapped at all the right times. The only time we had to clamp our hand over his mouth is when the percussion band went to town and beat the living daylights out of some bongo drums, that made the crowd stand up and cheer like lunatics. Thing 2, who was completely swept up into the rhythm, hollered, “Where are my bongo drums, Mom? You took them away, and you put them on the top of the fridge, and now they are GONE!”
I had hoped he wouldn’t notice that his bongo drums had drifted out of his life. I have them hidden, for my own sanity, and now I’m going to have to drag them back out so that Ringo Star can, once again, get down to business.
Of course, I’ll have to buy a bottle of wine first, before I reveal to Thing 2 that his drums have been sitting in my closet for the past couple of months.
The boy’s high school band is phenomenal. They have scored the highest ratings possible at all their state band competitions, and they’ve come home with blue ribbons.
Or, you know, whatever it is that a winning band comes home with. I was never a band member, because I flailed in orchestra. Somehow I managed to play the violin for six entire years without understanding sharps and flats ONE BIT. I think it’s the reason I never had first chair, like our son sits in.
The freshman and sophomore band finished things up about 8:00 last night, which is already a full half hour AFTER we like to steer Thing 2 toward bed. Since the boy was done playing, Mam volunteered to sneak out of the auditorium as the juniors and seniors were taking the stage, so that she could run Thing 2 home and rock him to sleep.
Hubs and I stayed until the bitter end, sweating buckets with four million other clapping parents, until the grand finale song finished up at 9 PM. I won’t lie. The concert was fantastic. Those kids have worked hard this year, and I’m proud of them, even if I still don’t understand sharps and flats, or even have a working knowledge on all the names of the different band instruments.
I know the clarinet section, and I cheer for that one handsome kid on the end. He’s my favorite in that band!
We left the concert to a two hundred degree temperature drop, once we got out of the auditorium. We drove home with the windows rolled down, and the wind on our faces, as Hubs and I realized that we would not have to do the whole preschool bedtime routine, which can involve tears and wailing and gnashing of teeth.
This is what we had when we walked in the door:
May the Lord forever bless grandmas who can charm a five-year-old into falling asleep quickly. And… since that kid slept until almost 7:15 this morning, we are hiring Mam as our permanent Baby Whispering Nanny.
… that baby of ours graduated from preschool this afternoon!
Apparently his preschool teacher and the school district both feel like he’s learned enough ABCs to put preschool behind him and walk through the doors of a real, live elementary school this coming fall.
I may need to rip some sackcloth and smear some ashes all over myself, as I mourn the loss of these baby years.
It didn’t help that I was greeted with THIS giant banner, when we went to the preschool graduation ceremony today:
It might as well have been a college brochure from Yale. It hit me with the same ridiculous force. I thought I had already grieved the end of babyhood with the boy and moved on in my life. We never expected to be blessed with a second child, so my sadness at the end of the boy’s preschool years was something I never expected to endure again.
And yet… here I am.
It’s not AT ALL any easier than it was with the boy. Seeing your baby grow up is stinking hard on your heart. I cried when the boy finished preschool and pre-kindergarten, and I cried today with Thing 2.
Thing 2’s preschool teacher had the kids come out with inflatable guitars. They sang a little ditty that ended with, “We will… we will… rock you… kindergarten! We will… we will… rock you… kindergarten!” Hubs and I felt it was a fitting end to our baby’s preschool career, considering that the first song he ever learned to sing was AC/DC’s Thunderstruck.
Pray for our family as the Spirit leads you. While other families were learning educational songs about bus wheels that kept on going ’round and ’round, Hubs had our babies jamming out to Angus Young’s guitar beat.
Each graduate got to take the podium for a couple of minutes, as their teacher spoke words of love and kindness over them. She talked about each child’s strengths and major accomplishments over the year, and got a little teary-eyed, as she realized her time with them was ending.
Or it might have just been tears of joy and relief in her eyes, since Thing 2 will be moving on.
PEOPLE!!! I wanted to die a little inside of embarrassment, but then I laughed my head off, as he let the crowd know of his own accomplishments.
“I’d like to thank the plumbers, for remodeling our classroom bathroom, after I managed to flood the sink in a way that made Noah run for his ark. I’d like to thank my teachers, for always using washable markers and paint, which my mom, the Laundry Jedi, has successfully gotten out of every shirt I’ve ever worn to school. I’d like to thank all the staff for helping me learn that slugging a classmate is never an option, and that being the line ENDER is the reward for pushing and shoving to be the line LEADER. I plan to continue my education career in kindergarten, where my future teachers are currently preparing by quietly stocking their wine cellars.”
And then… again in typical Thing 2 fashion… our baby leapt off the highest point of the platform, like a total rock star, even though he was supposed to walk down the little steps on the other side.
Jesus, please be near us.
Of course we snapped pictures of our little graduate with his closest preschool buddies.
These teachers of his have loved our little man and been his mom away from home. Our hearts are filled with joy and thankfulness for all they’ve done for our boy. We couldn’t have gotten through preschool without these ladies, and we are thankful God pointed our boy right into their classroom.
Y’all! Our baby is a preschool graduate! And our big boy is about to wrap up his SOPHOMORE YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL.
My heart simply cannot handle any more of this.