Band Mom Gratitude

This is the week of Thanksgiving, and it is traditional during this time of year to ponder over and share thoughts on thankfulness and gratitude.  At the same time, marching band is over- and for the Mom of No, it is really over because the Teenager has finished her high school marching band career.  She's moving into concert season, and while I still apparently have some pies to sell and some concerts to attend, my Band Mom career is winding down. 

So what's the connection between Thanksgiving and marching band?

First, I have to say that marching band is, honestly, a pain in the butt, especially if you are a marching band parent and you have to get up at o'dark thirty because to be early is to be on time and to be on time is to be late.  When band practice starts in August, your car starts smelling like a gym on wheels.  You're always getting hit up to volunteer for things, pay for things, show up to things- hard when you're an introvert who really just wants to sit and read a book-and go purchase items at the last minute.  August is off limits for that family summer vacation.  You sit through football games you're not really interested in when the wind is blowing or the brutal heat is giving you a ferocious headache or the drizzling rain is falling not so gently from the sky because, hey, your kid is in the marching band and it's a darn good show, so pay attention, people! Go buy your nachos when the third quarter of the game starts!

But I am really thankful that my kid decided to become a band kid.

While our school's marching band season ended with football season, other bands in the area advanced to finals in marching contests.  Those bands received kudos on Facebook and elsewhere, and I felt a twinge of Mom angst for the band kids in our high school's marching band, who had a great show and worked hard but didn't make it as far.  For what it's worth, kids, I know you worked hard, and (not that I am any kind of expert on marching band shows) your show was fantastic.

I am really thankful that The Teenager found a niche in high school, a place where she felt that she belonged, a group that she could contribute to and, as she became a seasoned band veteran, practice some leadership skills.  She took it seriously; marching band was not to be trifled with.  Sometimes I felt parental annoyance at the long hours spent at a football game or contest when it meant that she'd be coming home to more homework completed in the early morning hours.  Somehow, she made it work, although from a parent's point of view the expectations sometimes seemed unrealistic. It's a life lesson: the situation might not always be ideal, but if this is what you want, you will have to find a way to make it work.  It's a parent lesson too: as the kids get older, it gets harder to determine when and when not to intervene in their lives. They're not the only ones going through a life transition.

As a not-marching band person, I always watch with interest mixed up with amusement and a dash of pride when The Teenager meets other marching band people, regardless of age.  Especially if they also played clarinet, there's always that immediate recognition of a bond shared through experience- the late nights, the early mornings, the long bus rides, the hours of practice, the brutal August heat.  What instrument do you play? I play clarinet.  I DID, TOO!  I once had to cancel a doctor's appointment for her because of a band conflict.  When I told the scheduler the reason, her tone of voice changed from annoyed to complete understanding. Oh, my daughter was in band, too, she said. I completely get it. Don't worry about it.  Let's see how we can work her in the schedule.

So even though I did my share (and probably more) of complaining about early morning drop-offs and late night pickups,  having to get band pies delivered before they defrosted, and summers cut short by that August 1 band practice start date, I'm starting to feel a little sad about it all ending.  I'm glad The Teenager was part of it, the triumphs, the challenges, the disappointments, the long days and the later nights, the muscle aches and the sweat, the frustration, the thrills, the camaraderie, the friendships.  Even more than being glad, however, I'm thankful that she had the experience.  I suspect she's going to miss it; I suspect that I will, too.