I Cried This Morning...

If you've been following my blog for the past few weeks, you'll remember that I'm nuts. Well, technically not 'nuts' per se, but coming off of an anti-depressant addiction I wasn't aware of has left me with emotions scattered all over the place. Like, seriously.

For example, last night 17 was looking at a video on the Book of the Faces, and when I asked her what it was, she told me it was a deaf woman hearing her husband's voice for the first time.

MUSH. <--------- That's what I turned to upon viewing the video.

This morning I had my tunes playing while I was getting ready for work, and John Denver came on, crooning his beautiful ballad "Country Roads". Shut up, I like John Denver, don't you judge me.

Anyway, I'm not sure if it's because WVU was crushed last night by Kentucky and knocked out of March Madness, or the fact that my baby will be a freshman there this fall, but my eyes welled up with tears and I cried. I told myself through my tears that I was being an idiot. I didn't argue with myself, I know better. I'll lose, every time.

But I cried this morning. I cried because it's a pretty song. I cried because my baby is leaving home in less than 6 months. I cried because my emotions are completely fucked up because of the anti-depressants. Am I depressed? No, I don't think I am. Am I an emotional train wreck? No doubt in my mind that yes, I am. I have tears in my eyes just writing this.

Last week, we went to the state capitol  for our high school's symphonic honor band performance. Both of my girls  are in that band and they overwhelm me with their talents. During their last song of the performance, Angels in the Architecture, I cried like a freaking lunatic. I cried at the beauty of the music, the difficulty of the 15 minute piece, the solos that my trumpet playing senior had. I cried knowing that this is her last year playing in this award winning band, a band that changed who she is and contributed to making her a confident young adult. The difference from who she was 4 years ago to who she's become is startling (in a good way) and I cried at how proud of her I am, proud of both my daughters.

The band director asked if anyone had taken any pictures during that performance. I didn't even try, because I was such a mess that you'd need a Dramamine to view them, they'd be so badly out of focus from my ridiculous crying ass.

When I think about her graduation in just over 2 months, I cry. I can't even begin to imagine what I'm going to be like on that day, but here's a tip: BUY STOCK IN KLEENEX. Trust me, you won't regret it. My baby will be playing alongside her big sister in the symphonic band's final performance of the year, and it will be the last time both my girls will play together in the same band. And yes, I'm crying again as I am writing that sentence. DAMN YOU EFFEXOR!

Make no mistake, I was a crying fool long before the anti-depressants and probably a crying fool while on them. But now that I'm off, Jesus, Mary and St. Joseph, I'm a thousand times more emotional than I've ever been.

I cried this morning. I will cry again soon, of that I have no doubt. It's gotta be normal, right? The emotional wreck that I've become is a side effect of leaving the meds behind, I know that. But I also know that I'm not alone. I received so many comments on my Mamalode piece letting me know that I am in good company, and for that company I am ever grateful. If you are trying to overcome an addiction, whether it's one you knew you had or you had no clue, YOU TOO are NOT ALONE. Come sit by me and we'll cry together. And we'll get through it. Together.

Kids: They cost. A LOT.....

I had no idea how much these kids would end up costing me when I had them. Sure it was expensive to deliver them by C-section in the hospital. Insurance picked up the tab on that one. Thanks, Aetna! But these kids I have are bleeding me dry, one activity at a time. Allow me to sound like an old fart for a moment. When I was a kid, I was involved in NOTHING. I wasn't musically inclined (my school didn't have a band anyway), I wasn't athletically inclined, I had very few hobbies that required equipment. I read. I rode my bike. I wasn't a clothes horse, and when I turned 13, I started working.

I started as a set-up girl in a restaurant, and when I turned 14, I moved up to waitress. I always worked for my spending money. After my summer as a waitress, the restaurant where I worked burned to the ground (I grew up in Wildwood, the restaurant was on the Boardwalk, we called it Jewish lightning when a Boardwalk block burned down). For the next 4 summers I worked in an arcade on the Boardwalk where I made a little money, and met lots of cute boys. OH the cute boys! But I digress. I had a J O B. I don't ever remember nickel and diming my Mom for stuff.

Fast forward to today. These kids today. Two daughters. Two talented, athletic, musically gifted daughters. Oh my aching wallet.

Let's start with 14. Sax player. Sax lessons. We bought her a sax, reeds, nice neck strap, more reeds. She plays volleyball. She's on a team that travels. That's not cheap. Gas, snacks, dinner after her tournaments, sometimes hotel rooms. She plays basketball. She goes to basketball camp every summer. Thank goodness her grandparents pay for that. She also has ginormous feet. Did I mention those feet don't ever seem to stop growing? You know what's totally not fair? I went shopping for basketball shoes for her last year, and the biggest size I could find in women's was an 11. She needed a women's 11.5. So we had to go up to a men's size. And the men's basketball shoes were, no lie, $60 more expensive than the women's shoes were.

Moving on to 16. Trumpet player, trumpet lessons, sheet music, and now she tells me she needs a Harmon Mute. I don't know what that is but I have no doubt it's going to cost me more than a gallon of milk (or gas). She runs track and plays basketball. Thankfully her feet may have slowed down in the growth department because she has been in the same basketball shoes for 2 seasons (thank you baby Jesus). But she DOES need track spikes.

What?

Track spikes, mom.

Can we get them at the running store in town?

No, mom, not cross country spikes, track spikes are different. We can order them from Dick's.

But I have a gift certificate for the store in town.

I laugh at your gift certificates! BAH!!

Sunday we went shopping for prom gowns. HO-LEEEEE SHIT. Can I just tell you that I think my prom gown for my junior prom may have cost a total of $89? And that was INCLUDING alterations.  The first dress store we went to scared the pee out of me. I didn't see a single prom gown in that store for under $289. And I know that she'd have to have a few alterations done so we were definitely going over $300. Next store we found was a little more reasonably priced but not by much. We STILL ended up going over $300. We said 'yes' to the dress. And my wallet died a little more.

Next year will be 16's senior year and 14's freshman year in high school. And the band is going to Disney. So that'll be two in the band going to Disney. And my wallet will die a little more. Then 16 will be 18 and go away to college. And my savings will die a lot.

At this rate, hubby and I will be working until we turn 128. But our daughters will be well-rounded, responsible, beautiful adults. And hopefully, they will take care of us in our old age. Hopefully they'll wipe our drool, or our butts, and they'll thank us for making them the well-rounded, responsible, beautiful adults that they become. Money is overrated, right? Retirement is going to be boring and who wants to be bored, right?

Dreams of My Mother....

I had another dream about my Mom this morning just before my alarm went off. I did what I always do when I'm having a dream and I don't want to wake up: I hit the snooze and tried to fall back asleep and pick up the dream where it left off.

May 19, 1995, She gave me away at my wedding.

In the dream, I was in the band room at 17's high school and I was chaperoning a band trip (as one does). The band director surprised me by telling me that my Mom was also going on the trip with us. I was so excited! I hadn't seen her in awhile and when I saw her in the room, wearing her black coat and looking very much alive I went to give her a hug and my alarm went off.

Stupid alarm clock. And no matter how hard I tried, I could not fall back to sleep and see how the dream ended. But I already know. She was alive and happy in the dream. She was looking forward to hearing hear granddaughter perform.

Sadly, she never did get to see either of my children perform in their respective ensembles. The closest she ever got was watching a video of them from the comfort of her apartment in Atlantic City. She didn't travel much, she gave up her drivers license several years back when she was diagnosed with Complex Partial Seizure Disorder. Taking the bus was too hard because in her later years she was on oxygen 24/7. One of my biggest regrets was not trying harder to convince her to come to WV to spend time with us and see her girls perform. But again, she was in her 70's and pretty much set in her ways, so really there was no 'convincing' her of anything.

This isn't the first dream I've had of my Mom since she died in November. There have been a few others but they aren't enough. My Mom is just out of reach, and I guess that's normal, but God it's hard. I used to call her every day from the car on my way here or there. I get in the car now and I feel like something is missing. It's hard to explain, but it's like a hole that I can't fill. An emptiness.

When I think back on her life, I don't want to remember the struggles to breathe, the time she spent in the nursing home. I want to remember her as she was when she was younger and the COPD hadn't ravaged her lungs and taken away her freedom. I want my girls to remember how vibrant and funny she was. There is nothing that makes me happier than sitting with my girls and reacting to something one of them says and hearing "Mom, that face you just made, that's TOTALLY a Mom-mom face". That makes me smile. I want them to see the "Mom-mom" in things. I want them to remember how life was with her, how she made people feel, how sarcastic she was, and I want them to emulate her.

She was my role model, our role model and I wish she'd come to me in my dreams every night.

The "Cool Mom" (do the kids still say "cool"?)

This time last year I was the proud and sobbing mother of a High School Graduate.  Happy to report she has successfully completed her first year of college and is doing well. Tonight I will be chaperoning the band for this year's graduation ceremony. I have been to all of the graduation ceremonies at our high school since my oldest was a freshman.

I have cried at every one of them.

Yes, I'm that mom. I'm the mom that most of the kids know. I don't want to say I'm the "cool mom" because I think all the kids would roll their eyes at that phrase, but I am the mom that most of the kids know. I'm the mom who volunteers to work the concession stand for Friday night football games rather than sit in the stands and watch my band kid perform. I'm the mom who chaperones band trips because I love these kids. I've watched them grow from awkward middle schoolers to awkward high school underclassmen to amazing, bright, talented young men and women.

And tonight I will watch another group of them as they receive their diplomas and move on. And I will cry. I can't help it! It's my own fault for getting involved in the first place. If I was the mom who just showed up when I absolutely HAD to, or just phoned it in, these things would be so much easier. But that's not who I am. I choose to be involved. I LIKE helping out, I want to know who my kids' friends are, and I love getting to know the other parents who are as devoted to the cause as I am. It's a brotherhood/sisterhood sort of thing. You get to know the parents who really want to help and you get to mock the rest who never show up.

So here's to another graduation, the passing of time, the growing up of our children. Best of luck to them and to the parents who made them who they are. And here's to the teachers who helped guide them. I'll have Kleenex ready.

A Tale of Two Weeks...

Technically it's only one week. But this is a story of last week from two different perspectives: My eyes and teenage eyes.

Last Monday, I dropped 17 and 15 off at school where they were loading up three charter buses to haul 100+ marching band members plus dozens of chaperones down to Walt Disney World for Spring Break. I was not one of those chaperones. I wanted to be, but the cost was just too much, given the fact that I was sending two kids down already. A third ticket to ride would've meant that some lucky bill collector would be calling us some rude names. I opted not to go on this trip. Here's why I am fine with/hate that decision.

Teenage eyes: Absolutely and thoroughly excited at the chance to head to Orlando for a week of fun in the sun with friends. Getting to spend hours in the water park or the Magic Kingdom meeting characters, waiting on endless lines for minutes of fun.

My eyes: Watching the kids mill around the band room and seeing the chaperones come in with their suitcases, knowing that they'd get the opportunity to watch my children having the time of their lives.  The knot grows bigger and bigger in my stomach. It becomes pure torture for me to watch others loading up while I stand by on the sidelines, not a part of this experience.

Teenage eyes: Dear sweet baby Jesus are we there yet??

My eyes: Thank GOD I'm not on a charter bus driving 18 hours to Orlando, FL.

Teenage eyes: Excitement mounting as they all congregate backstage at the Magic Kingdom, dressing in their band uniforms, warming up, preparing to step off and march in the Main Street Electrical Parade. And after taking that parade by storm, getting to watch the amazing fireworks show afterwards.

My eyes: Looking at the clock, counting down the minutes until 9:45 p.m., which is step-off time for the band to begin the march down Main Street, performing in my favorite parade in Walt Disney World.  Getting chills just imagining how amazing this experience is for my girls, and getting sad that I can't be there to enjoy it, enjoy them, enjoy the experience first hand. Disney is our place, a place we'd go every year if we could afford it. I want to be there so badly that I'm physically aching inside. At 10:30 the first pictures are posted to Facebook and I break down in tears. Proud tears, yes, but also tears of self-pity and selfishness. I should've gone. I should've just said "to hell with fiscal responsibility, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I should be there dammit!" But knowing in my heart (and my bank account) that this week is NOT about me. It's TOTALLY about my girls, and their friends and the marching band. I should be ashamed for being so jealous of everyone there while I sit at my computer looking at videos of my girls and crying. I feel torn.

Teenage eyes: Dread at getting back on the charter buses at 10:00 at night knowing full well how long the trip home will be, and leaving what has been one of the most exciting times of their young lives.

My eyes: At least I can sleep in my own bed tonight and not on a charter bus for 18 hours.

My girls.

Teenage eyes: Oh God I've never been so happy to see this high school in my entire life. Thank GOD I'm off that charter bus and if I never see another charter bus again it'll be too soon. I just want to go home, shower and get into my own bed!

My eyes: Thank God my girls are home safe and sound and I can't wait to hear every detail about their week (well, the details they're willing to share with old Mom). I hope they want to sit and chat with me all day long!

Band Senior Night

YIKES! How did this happen?? It seems like only a moment ago, 17 was a fresh-faced freshman marching on to the football field with the rest of the marching band. And now, she's a senior, getting ready to march in her last high school halftime show. Tonight is senior night for the band. Husband, 15 and I will escort her onto the field as they pay tribute to the 42 senior class members of the marching band.

Holy crap. That time went by in the blink of an eye. An eye that will most definitely be tear-filled this evening.

She absolutely loves the band and everything associated with it. And while she won't be a music major in college, the memories that she takes with her from high school are going to be filled with band trips, band camp stories, Dairy Queen trips after performances, sleepovers after Friday night games and how unbelievably amazing the band director and assistant band director have been over these past 4 years.

I've still got another 3 years to go with this band while 15 is a member. I will hold on to every moment and try to make them last, because the first 4 years seriously flew by.

17, I love you. I'm proud of you for what you've done, all that you've accomplished, the brave and amazing young woman you've become. And tonight, I will walk proudly next to you on that football field as they call your name. And I will hug you and hold you and never let you go. Well, until it's time for me to go back into the concessions stand and time for you to march in one of the last high school halftime shows.

So enjoy your senior  night, enjoy the recognition and the time you spend this year with your band family. I couldn't ask for a better group of people. Your friends, their families, they are all a pleasure. I think I've enjoyed this time almost as much as you have.

Lazy people really boil my lobsters...

After reading this post by the lovely and talented Robyn of Hollow Tree Ventures, I was inspired to write my own take on this issue. It's one that I just had to deal with on a major scale and it pissed me off. It's something that has happened for the past 3 years, and for some reason, this year it just really churned my butter.

Let me 'splain it to you. I am the coordinator for our High School band's spring banquet. My first year (16's freshman year) I co-coordinated with my friend Mimzy (you can read her blog here, she's awesome). That year, her son graduated and she had one year off after that before her youngest was a freshman, so 16's Sophomore year, I took over the job. Confused yet? Good.

Here's how we do this every year. It's a potluck dinner that we hold in the cafeteria, and each class brings something: Freshman bring salads, Sophomores bring sides, Juniors bring main dishes and Seniors bring desserts/beverages. Are you with me? Good.

Now to the aggravating part. Every year we send out a blanket email invitation from the band director explaining the deal, asking for the folks to bring stuff and reminding them to RSVP to one of us (me or Mimzy, who is back in the HS in full swing with her youngest). This same message also goes out to all parents in the county's school portal, Livegrades. It's on the band's website. Every parent should see this in one way or another. The kids all talk about it. So explain to me WHY in the WORLD NO ONE RSVP's??? Yet they show up! And SOME show up EMPTY HANDED!!! Here's a little breakdown for you:

2012 -  125 kids in band,  59 families RSVP, 215 were expected, over 300 people showed up
2013 -  147 kids in band,  57 families RSVP, 220 were expected, over 350 people showed up
2014 -  155 kids in band,  64 families RSVP, 244 were expected, OVER 430 people showed up

This year, we ran out of chicken before the last table was sent up to the buffet (the band booster organization provides the chicken each year). We ran out of forks. We ran out of plates. Why? Because HOW can you POSSIBLY plan a banquet when you expect 250 people and almost 200 more show up? How hard is it to respond to an email? Make a phone call? Send a damn text? Shit, I see a great many of these folks at sporting events, concerts and even the grocery store! Couldn't you just say "Hey there will be 3 of us at the banquet, see you then!"???? Is that so friggin' hard?? I could scream!

I walked around that cafeteria saying hello to folks and under my breath I was whispering to myself: "You didn't RSVP, YOU didn't RSVP, and oh, there's ANOTHER family who didn't RSVP." Yes, I must have looked nuts.

Now, here is our big quandary. Next year's band will be the biggest we've ever had. We have 180 kids signed up. Our cafeteria seats 450 UNcomfortably. Seriously, this year at 430 attendees, we were packed in there like sardines. We are averaging about 41% of band families RSVP'ing to the event. Let me put it to you plainly: WE. ARE. SCREWED.

So I'm putting this question to you, my dear Snarklings: How do you get people to listen to an RSVP? And what measures should we take in the future to ensure we have enough room? Do we make it band kids only? Or only invite Senior parents?  I like the Senior parents idea, and if you are a parent of a kid in another grade and want to attend, not only is RSVP MANDATORY, but you also have to come and help set up and stay for clean up. Damn right I'm bitchy about this subject.