I Would Rather.....

I am super sports mom. I have spent hours in gyms coaching or sitting on cold hard bleachers. They will remember my passion for each of their chosen sports. Hell, I've even taken technical fouls as a Coach and been asked to leave the gym/field as a parent spectator. Apparently there is a fine line between "cheering" and “suggesting” to the referee how to do his job. Who knew?

But I am the worst band mom EVER!! 

Hate would be too soft a word for how I feel about sitting through Christmas Band Concerts.

I would rather dig my own eyeballs out with a teaspoon.

I would rather go on strike again.

I would rather dance naked covered in honey while waving a stick under a beehive like a piñata.

I would rather pour a full glass of red wine down the sink. HA!!.What are the odds? That’s just silly talk y’all.

You get the idea.

As far as I am concerned I have paid my dues sitting watching other people’s children for three hours in a hot crowded gym just for a two minute glimpse of my own offspring playing an instrument that I can’t stand, to music I can’t decipher. By my count from pre-school to present time, I have attended 18 Christmas concerts. Just give me my gold star for parenting already and lets move on.

Tonight was the basement trolls band concert. This was the conversation in the car on the drive home from school before the concert.

Me: Do you have to show up tonight?

Them: Yes mom, we committed.

Me: What would happen if you just didn’t go?

Them: We would get a fail on our school pride mark.

Me: So? And? That's it?

Them: Mom, we can't fail. We are part of the band and have to go. It’s about showing pride in our school spirit. (Damn responsible children. Who on earth taught them that?)

Me: I wouldn’t get mad at you for that mark on your report card. Pinky promise.

Them: Plus mom, we can’t go to the Christmas Dance if we don't show up. (Ahhh, now that’s more like it my ladies)

Me: What if you are… sick?

Them: Mom, we were just at school perfectly healthy all day.

Me: Right. Damn. What if we all caught the worst surprise stomach flu ever? Ohhh like Ebola? Yes, we all officially have Ebola.

Them: Mom we have to go.

Me: Whatever.

The school’s music teacher is one of the loveliest teachers I've met. She has passion for children, music and education that I bow down too. I would suck ass as a teacher. Not only do I not like other people's children all that much, but the thought of being surrounded by so many of them at once and then purposefully putting noise makers in their hands all day long makes me want to vomit. She deserves a freaking gold medal and extra jewels on her crown.

Mrs. Stearn it's not you. It's me. By me, I mean the band and the instruments and the gym full of parents and the fact I need to take my shoes off like a four year old at the door to watch said performance. My socks weren't matching and that was embarrassing. Plus I think it’s freaking conspiracy theory that my children are always the last act. No matter what grade, school or function, they are always last. It's like the band gods hate me and force me to stay until the very end. What the hell have I ever done to you band concert gods? Never mind, don't answer that.

I watched longingly as more than one parent hauled a screaming toddler out of the gym in a panicked hurry. I locked eyes with one kicking child and whispered...”I know it's painful right?” Lucky bastard winked at me as he escaped the gym and gave me a ‘in your face sucker’ thumbs up.  

I felt jealous. Not jealous that I didn’t own a screaming two year old, but that he had thought of it first. How could I possible kick and scream for a forced exit now that he already played that card? Asshole.

A *twoonie bar should be mandatory at ALL school functions. They would make a frickin’ fortune.  That's my idea of successful, stress-free fundraising…just sayin’.

Umm…there was no cell phone reception in the gym!!  Are you kidding me?  I couldn't even check Facebook or Twitter. It was torture. Social-media-band-concert torture with background music of twelve years old playing tubas and clarinets.  Uh, that’s actually double torture. I may sue for undue pain and suffering.

I didn’t bring a camera. I felt a little inadequate watching the other parents set up their personal production studios that would make Hollywood jealous. I held my phone in the air, aimed it toward the stage and hoped for the best.

On the upside, Dylan passed like six levels on a card game app and I did find the two hours a very opportune time to tap out this blog on my phone. All whilst humming along to 'Hark the Heralds Angels Sing'…well, at least I think that’s what the song was.

Next week is grade five hand bells...I’m bringing a to-go cup. Fa la la la la, la FML!

Disclaimer: It's just my honest opinion. Remember, no judging allowed. I admit, they sounded pretty good. If I am ever forced at gun point to sit through another concert, I would totally choose this one again. Well done and thank you Mrs. SJ

*Canadian two dollar coin eh.