There Should Be A Support Group For The Parents Of First-Year Band Students


The boy had an informal band concert this evening, which is just a fancy way to say, “The first year band students all got together on the stage to show you that they can make some noise with the brass and percussion instruments.”  We are assuming that this is the BEFORE concert, and that the end of the year concert this spring will show us how far everyone has come, and we’ll all call it the AFTER concert.

(At least we hope that’s the case.)

Hubs and I had plenty of moments when we looked at one another and said, “Do you know what the worst career in the world must be?  Being a band teacher.”  Because MY WORD at all the impatience that would erupt out of me if I had to endure the squeaks and squawks that get blown out of trombones and clarinets before the kids turn the musical corner and get accepted to Juilliard.

I will brag a bit, though, because the boy seems to be blessed with some Musical Talent  that he did not inherit from either of his parents.  Hubs’ band talent never rose above the fact that he could blow boxelder bugs out of his trumpet.  My violin career never took off, because the orange kitchen sponge that was rubberbanded to my violin as a shoulder pad kept rubbing the skin off my neck.

The boy can play a mean piano, and if our family is ever destitute, we’ll simply shove his piano out onto the street, and set a pickle jar for donations beside it.  This talent of his seems to extend to the clarinet, as well, as he has already taught himself numerous songs BY THE EAR, people, since he started in September.  Hubs and I are mesmerized by what our boy can do in the musical arena.

And do you know what musical arena I’m not at all impressed with?


Hubs cranked them up a couple of nights ago, while we were cleaning the kitchen after dinner.  I told him that I wasn’t sure how anyone could endure the noise they make on stage and in the recording studio without wanting to slap someone silly.  My eardrums were trembling with all the awful, but Hubs insisted that he couldn’t load a dishwasher without hearing Lars Ulrich destroy a set of drums in the background.

In other news, Thing 2 has a tooth!!

Oh, yes!  All the drooling and T-shirt sopping has finally come to an end as the tiniest little tooth broke through his bottom gums yesterday.  It’s the cutest tooth since the boy got his first one, and I’ve said to Thing 2 twenty dozen times today, “Can mama feel your tooth?”

And that’s how it starts, people.

A tooth today… and tomorrow he’ll be filling out applications to Princeton.  Since neither of our boys stand a chance of having their parents pay for college, what with Hubs’ and my Starbucks addictions, we’re hoping that they’ll get scholarships.

Here’s hoping that a few years’ worth of band lessons helps us hit pay dirt.

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