I’m with the band

Wow, am I tired.

High school marching band has taken over my life.

I haven’t been in high school in over 25 years, and I don’t play an instrument.

My daughter, however, is in high school, and plays both French horn and mellophone, and has chosen to join the marching band.

I, being the supportive parent that I try to be, thought this sounded like an excellent idea. She chose it. She seems really into it. She has friends in the band. It seemed like a good thing.

What you don’t realize is that when your child signs up for high school marching band, your whole family has signed up for marching band. You start to receive threatening emails telling you that you MUST volunteer at least four times per season. You get invoices for band stuff that make your car payment appear to be a trifle. You find yourself at the high school at hours of the night you haven’t been awake for in years, and then you still have to drive home. You can do at least one load of band laundry every weekend day. There are band socks, band shirts, band shorts. There might be band underwear, but I’m so exhausted by driving to and from the high school at weird hours that I have no idea what laundry I’ve done. I just see the band logo and wash it.

I then made the mistake of taking the threats seriously, and volunteering for something they called “pit crew” for an away game. What they really should call it is “Remember that last time you helped somebody move and they totally weren’t ready? You spent all day packing and loading and sweating with a bunch of their other friends you didn’t know? That’s what you’re gonna do! Twice! In one evening! Late at night after your day job! And your reward will be buying a lousy concession stand burger with your own money for dinner! Oh, and driving home late, late at night.”

I’m so very glad she’s enjoying marching band.


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