And Just Like That, It's Over...

 I have stuff going on with elder, but I will tackle that later, just want to get down a few lines about yesterday...

First off, Little Mister speaking his truth did have consequences, but they were all to the good. I'm not gonna bullet point or laundry list anything because the whole day was tiny treasures that awaited unwrapping. And any and all pain from Saturday was blown out the water with joys great and small that ran through the day. 

As you can imagine, discussion raged over younger's truth bomb, and we still haven't settled anything. This will be an ongoing conversation for a long time. 

(I'm getting balled up in the process of writing, so just gonna stop trying to make this perfect and say the things)

Last day. Truck loads, kids mill, parents set up a snack table with all the goodie bags for the kids and pass out pom-poms to all the folks who will be in the stands later. I anxiously wait for hubby, who is supposed to ride the bus with me.  He's dropping a salty (as ever) elder at work, who is saltier for having been inconvenienced by his brother's competition and he wanted to go, why didn't we tell him so he could ask for a day off?

(Because, N you have zero interest in band, it will be cold, you will be uncomfortable and will ask to leave as soon as you are done with the concession stand.  Hard no. Go work. You'll have a better time.)

Hubby arrives about 5 minutes before we push off.  G sees a friend's mom and stops to say hello and pet her dog. He's walking around in his Letterman's jacket for the first (and maybe last) time and jokes that he's dressed up like a bully. (Just about every villain, it seems, in just about every kid movie is wearing a Letterman jacket, he pointed out. But he's quick to note that he's just dressed this way, and not a bully.)

Bus is a chatter pretty much til we get to Hershey. When we're lining up for rest rooms, hubby jokes that I am large and in charge ("You are always running stuff," he said, somewhat awed, but probably really wondering why he didn't see this person in his house on the daily.  He does, but the difference is my own kids don't listen. But I digress.)

It's chilly, cloudy, and there's a wind. The front ensemble stop and group hug every so often, half in bonding and half to keep from freezing up too stiff to play. The other groups warm up. Everyone is all business the last hour and change leading up to stepping off. Everyone has a job, and each one is hard at work. 

The other chaperone, another senior mom, and I are dismissed from pit crew duty to watch from the stands.  And this is kinda cool--this is, after all, for better or for worse, their last show. We head off to the stands. Our small and mighty band has a small and mighty army of parents in the stands to support them. Hubby sets up his tripod and I get dispensation from the band president that he is officially our videographer, and he is recording for educational purposes. 

And miraculously, the wind tunnel that is the arena suddenly becomes still. Our band takes the field....and is just wonderful.  They play their best show. Today is a good day to have a best show.  They have all shown up for work and have done their jobs. 

The wind picked up again after they left the field.  They stop and get their group picture and I hold coats (chaperone and I left the stands immediately after they started breaking down for the next band). We run back to the buses so the color guard can get some clothes on and the winds can put their instruments away and hurry back in time for the college exhibition band.  

And G goes on retreat. For the first and last time. 

And when they finally call our school for second place, it's clear it's his first rodeo. He completed his salute a half step behind everyone else. But as the tallest one in the party, they hand him the large, heavy plaque they won for their place.  And they pick up two other awards for percussion and visuals.

They lost first place by .07 of a point. 

But they walked out knowing they killed it. Despite a tornado, despite subsequent displacement and schedule shuffling, they remained cheerful, hardworking, and underneath it all, tough as nails. 

Also?  They killed it. 

We needled Younger a little, asking if he was still bored.  He just grinned broadly and joined his bandmates at the concession and had some bad stadium fries that tasted awesome after a long day. And he led his band mates in a Miley Cyrus song or two on the way home on the bus. 

It's over now. But I'm glad it happened.