You know how sometimes on T.V. shows or in movies they start with a scene that’s happening right now and then show you through flashbacks all the events that led up to that moment?
That’s what I’m doing when I tell you it’s 9:45 p.m. and I just got home about thirty minutes ago and I’m sitting on my couch drinking a glass of wine trying to decompress.
My day started off in a delightful way. Specifically, I didn’t have to pack a lunch for Caroline. Mimi and Bops were going to have lunch with her and any morning that doesn’t begin with me trying to figure out what to put in a lunch box feels like a victory.
And can I just briefly say that it’s not even May and I’m so over school? She had a form in her school folder yesterday about a Science Fair Project that’s due at the end of May and I have never been so tempted to say, “You know what? You’ve had an A in Science all year long and fifth grade doesn’t count for anything. Let’s ditch the project.” But that would be wrong.
Not to mention that she has a whole plan for the Science Fair that involves testing bacteria levels on various surfaces. Which means I may never be able to use a public restroom ever again. Assuming I figure out how we’re supposed to test bacteria levels. I’ve never been strong in the science arena.
Anyway, I had time for a cup of coffee and then I needed to get dressed and put on makeup because I was scheduled to speak to a group of moms at 9:30. It was a great group of moms with preschool kids and I loved our discussion. As I left the building and walked toward the parking lot, I went to turn the ringer back on my phone and that’s when I noticed I had seven missed calls from the school.
I immediately panicked and worried that maybe Caroline was sick and in the nurse’s office or had broken her arm on the playground or other worst case scenarios, but then realized there was a voicemail message. It was Caroline and this is what she said:
“Hi Mom. It’s me. Caroline. We need some clear beach balls for our talent show tryouts this afternoon. They have them at Michael’s. Please go get them for us. Love you. Bye.”
First, I’m glad she clarified who it was that was calling me Mom otherwise I never would have guessed it was her. Second, how does she know they have clear beach balls at Michael’s? Third, seven phone calls feels excessive for beach balls.
But I drove to Michael’s to get beach balls and only found regular beach balls, not clear ones. I’d gathered them in my basket and was headed to checkout when I heard someone say, “Melanie?” And I turned around to see another mom from Caroline’s group in the talent show who had also been sent on a beach ball mission. Because I guess our children think all we have to do during the day is look for clear beach balls. And we really did nothing to dispel that assumption today since there we both were in the aisles of Michael’s.
I met Gulley for lunch and we had a serious strategy session that required us to break out our calendars and plan for the summer. We hadn’t gotten the road trip on the books yet and needed to do so immediately before we made any other commitments because the road trip is non-negotiable. You’ll be glad to know we’ve decided on the last week of July/
After lunch I went to Central Market to buy snacks for Caroline and her talent show group because the moms were meeting the girls on the playground right after school for a quick snack before it was time for them to tryout. This was about the time I began to regret that I’d chosen to wear high wedge heels.
The girls were so nervous, but did great during the tryout as far as we could tell. Parents technically weren’t allowed to watch but we may have peered through some tiny glass windows to see what was going on. And I have no idea when we find out if their group made it, but I’m sure you’ll be on the edge of your seat wondering about it.
We left the school and I dropped a couple of other girls off at their houses and then we headed home. P was home a little earlier than usual and so I left Caroline at home while I went to go early vote in our local elections because I am a firm believer in exercising my right to vote. And then I left City Hall and drove to the Barbecue Station to pick up dinner for our neighbors who just had a baby.
And then.
And then. I took Caroline and her friend Sadie to the junior high because tonight was the night for incoming sixth graders to try out all the various instruments and decide what they’d like to play next year. Have you ever been in a room with an assortment of untrained wannabe musicians trying out the tuba and the bassoon and the french horn?
If the answer is no, then you have led a rich, good life.
If the answer is yes, then you and I have a new understanding of what the other has endured.
I really thought the whole thing would take maybe, MAYBE, an hour. But Caroline had her heart set on the flute and the flute is a hot ticket for almost sixth grade girls and the line indicated its enormous popularity. The precious flute teacher declared Caroline to be “a natural” and I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I felt vindicated because I was told in sixth grade that my mouth is shaped wrong for the flute. Not that I’m still bitter about it. Or the fact that I had to play the clarinet instead.
Ultimately, after you tried all the instruments and listed them in the order you’d like to play, you had to wait in a LOOOOONG line to talk to the band director. And then after you got his approval for an instrument, you had to wait in another line for the privilege of arranging to rent or buy the instrument.
So at 9:02 I finally walked in my back door with Caroline. And a signed rental agreement for a flute. I hate to be a skeptic, but if our family’s past band history is any indication, I don’t believe actually purchasing a flute is in our best financial interest. We’d be better off putting our money in a banana stand.
Because there’s always money in the banana stand.
Bonus points if you can name that T.V. show.