There are certain things that I am fanatical about - my love for America, promoting breastfeeding, supporting parents, education....and marching band.
I never was in band in school, never learned to play an instrument but I had always had friends who did band. When I was 15, I was sleeping over my friend's house and she was talking about how fun band camp was. She was a pretty kick-ass flute player. She talked it up so much that night, that I was jealous. "I wish I could be in marching band."
"Come to band camp tomorrow and tell them you want to be in it."
"But I don't play an instrument."
"So what?"
That is exactly what I did. I showed up to band camp, walked up to the band director and told him that I wanted to be in the marching band. "What instrument do you play?"
"I don't play one."
He looked at me like I had 3 heads.
Then he handed me some cymbals. "You can be marching cymbals. Go over there with the drum line."
I walked over and was like, "Hey! I don't know how to do this but I'm in the drum line now." Bless them, they took me in even though I was clueless. I would just crash my cymbals randomly. It was the most fun I'd ever had. The next year I graduated to the bass drum. I was really moving up in the world. I loved every minute of it. It was a bright spot in a time of my life that was very dark and tumultuous.
There is something magical about marching band that you can't even put into words. You have to experience it. No matter who you are, what you look like, what your background is - once you are in band, you are family and band is life. Everyone is important, you are truly PART of something and that is rare in adolescence.
My daughter expressed interest in playing music in 6th grade. We got her a flute and she would sit in the back yard and play to the dog. She participated in the clinics offered and got into the all-county beginners band. When I discovered that it was an option for her to join marching band in 7th grade, I put it on the table. She gave me a resounding "yes". The child was named after a marching band term- it's in her destiny. She's grown up listening to me talking about how epic marching band is.
It was not easy in the beginning. The second week she came home discouraged and said, "I'm going to quit. I will never be able to learn the music."
I scoffed. "Have faith. You can do this. I promise you won't regret it."
She was unsure of herself, but she went back and was encouraged by the older kids and directors who truly mentored her. And guess what? She has loved every minute. I have seen her blossom these past few months. She is more confident, she is happy, she is PART of something.
The band made it to the state championship, which was a huge opportunity and privilege. The kids have worked so hard and they went out there and gave it their all. I stood on the sidelines and watched my daughter march her heart out, blowing into her flute with all the focus and intensity in her little body.
It doesn't take much for me to cry, and I did. I was so proud of her and so happy that she has a passion that she loves.
The band did not place as high as they would have liked and when I met her back at the bus she was disappointed. She buried her head into my shoulder and cried. I entertained it for a moment and allowed her to mourn and I told her what I would have told myself. "Hold your head high. You went out there and did your very best. Look around you- you are with people you love, you made it all the way here, you have 5 more years left. You are blessed!" She dried up quick and left me to go be with her friends.
One day, she won't even remember where the band placed. The years will all kind of blend together eventually. She will remember moments, the people that she spent so much time with, football games, the feeling of being under the lights when she marched a show. Those are the things that will be important in the end. Time has a way of bringing perspective.
Now that band season is over, it is gymnastics competition season, which means my youngest gets to be the star. We will be doing a fair amount of traveling this season. I LOVE to watch her compete. She is truly amazing and dedicated to the sport and I am sure I will do a fair amount of crying and give my lectures to her too.
It is a busy life, but it's a good life and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I few weeks ago I pulled the cool weather clothes out of the closet and went through them. It's a bi-annual tradition. I enjoy it because it's like opening a present. I forget about the stuff I put in there and get excited when I "re-discover" them.
"Oh shit! I love this blazer."
I separate the kids stuff and think, "Why did I think my kid would still fit into this?" Seriously, I packed away a 6x sweater. Why do I still have it? My oldest is 10.
I pulled out my black boots. I love my black boots. I purchased them from Ross in 2012 for $17 and they have held up well. The paint has started to rub off the sole and the heel though. Boo. You know what I did? I had some black acrylic paint in the craft drawer, I mixed it up with some Hodge Podge and I repainted the soles and heels of those boots. Good as new. I'm going to get 3 more years out of those things. That's who I am.
I went through the summer clothes and pulled out the things that needed to be packed away. Mostly sundresses. We can never really put away our summer clothes. We just layer. It could be 30 degrees in December or 80 degrees - in the same week.
I tucked away some of my shorts and tank tops. I came across one of my Lularoe dresses that I purchased last year. I hadn't washed it correctly and it had pilled horribly. I paid $50 bucks for that dress and I was not wiling to accept that it was ruined. I'm cheap as sh*t. If I'm paying $50 for a dress, I'm still going to be wearing that thing when I'm in the nursing home rocking chair.
I consulted Youtube AKA videos that show you how to do everything and the lady on the video was demonstrating a Conair defuzzer. I was fascinated by this contraption. In the video, it worked so well - it was some kind of voodoo. I had to try it for myself. I logged onto Amazon and purchased it asap.
Two days later, it arrived on my doorstep. I was so excited. I opened the box and put batteries in it.
I laid out my Lularoe dress and got to work. It was miraculous! My dress was good as new! I got out another and defuzzed it. It was amazing!
How have I lived 32 years and not known about this? Do people know this thing exists and were keeping it from me? I feel like my whole life is a lie. This is a housewife's dream. From now on, I'm giving Conair defuzzers as wedding gifts. WAY more useful than a panini press.
Later that week, I was at the thrift store to buy jeans and all I could think was, "Look at all the stuff in here that I can defuzz!"
That Friday, there was no football game. My husband was out of town. My oldest daughter was in her room trying on makeup and taking pictures of her face (because that's her thing) and my youngest was somewhere watching anime.
I planned an exciting evening for myself. I gathered all the clothes, scarves, flannel pillowcases, ANYTHING that needed to be defuzzed and made a pile on my bed. Then, I made a big cup of coffee with hazelnut creamer. I went to Youtube and pulled up my playlist of Vienna horns. I put in my headphones and I de-fuzzed everything while I listened to French Horns - stopping periodically to sip my coffee.
I defuzzed for hours. I emptied the reservoir of lint every so often. Look at all the lint!!! I LOVED every minute of it. I almost called people I knew to bring their stuff over. There is something very methodical and relaxing about it. It is so satisfying. I am addicted. I'm definitely not a normal human being.
The next morning my daughter came into my room and asked, "Mom, did you defuzz my underwear?"
Like a BOSS!
The rest of our time in North Carolina was relaxing. We spent our days with family. On Saturday we went to the science center the next town over which was really cool. We saw a show in the Planterium and the kids did a tornado simulator. We were treated to lunch which was amazing.
On the last day, I took the kids to the Rennissance Festival. We go every year and we are serious about it. We dress up and the whole nine yards. Admist all of our evacuation planning, I'd pulled the costume bin out of the garage and we picked out what we would wear.
The Renaissance Festival is not cheap. By the time you pay for tickets, buy food, tip entertainers and pay for rides it adds up. I gave the kids a speech before we left. "Just going to Ren Faire is a treat. We'll ride the rides, I'll buy you lunch, we will participate in everything that we normally do but we are not buying a bunch of junk and souvenirs. Don't even ask. Got it?"
They nodded their heads. "Yes, ma'am."
It was a short drive and we walked in excitedly. We love to dress up and act like weirdos. We're nerds. It's our thing. I was wearing an off the shoulder shirt that came up to my collar bone, a corset, and a broomstick skirt. My 10 year old kept pulling up my shirt. "Mom, you look like a skank. Cover your shoulders."
"It's supposed to show your shoulders."
"No, it's inappropriate."
People walk around the Renaissance Festival with their boobs all the way out practically. I was not inappropriate AT ALL. She was slut shaming me for showing my shoulders and I did not appreciate it.
We were in all of our Ren Faire glory. We had an amazing day. We watched magicians and acrobats, we listened to amazing music, we ate bread bowls and turkey legs, the girls rode rides, we watched a joust and cheered on our knight. It was amazing.
The last show was the belly dancing. We love the belly dancers and watch them every year. They asked for a volunteer from the audience and my 12 year old's hand shot up. The girl picked her right out of the audience and brought her on stage. They put some jangles around her waist and showed her some moves.
I was like
She looked so beautiful up there with her bright smile. She can move! I was a little concerned about those body rolls. Heaven help me.
After the performance I kept singing, "Look out for my body rolls, look out for my body rolls...." She rolled her eyes at me. If the college thing doesn't work out, she could definitely take up a career in belly dancing.
It was the very end of the day and we were walking out and window shopping when my oldest daughter broke the cardinal rule. She asked me to buy her a ring. The ring was only $2 BUT she has a gazillion rings at home that she never wears. So I said no.
She pouted and when I walked out of the store she whispered something to her sister. They walked behind me and I just knew they were talking trash. We had the PERFECT day and they had to go be assholes at the very end. I was disappointed. Over a $2 ring. They could have been A-holes the whole day so I should have been thankful.
We drove home the following day. I left early in the morning and the kids slept almost the entire ride home which meant I got to pick the radio station the WHOLE TIME. Thank goodness, because if I had to hear that Chainsmokers Closer song one more time I was going to lose it. How many times do I have to listen to the same song in one lifetime?
The house was in pretty good shape except for a shutter that flew off and broke into pieces.
Damn it, Hurricane Matthew!
We were blessed though, we had electricity and all was right with the world. I went to work getting the house back in order. I had moved my trash can into the garage before I left and now my entire house smelled like a landfill. I opened all the windows and doors to air it out. I watered my plants and cut the spent flowers, I put all the outdoor stuff back where it belonged.
Within an hour a bunch of teenagers showed up at my house. News travels fast around here. I made them help me unload the car and put them to work. Nobody's hanging out when there is work to be done.
It was a long day and I finally collapsed into bed at 10:30. I was so thankful to be home. I love my family and it's nice to have a break but my home is where my heart is. Even if it is ghetto with it's missing shutter.
So, here we were on an impromptu visit to North Carolina waiting for the storm to pass. I was determined not to sit around and let the kids watch TV for the next 5 days. We were going to DO things, explore, have family time together.
I searched TripAdvisor for some cheap / free things to do in the area. I had a full day planned for us on Thursday. We were going to tour a Victorian mansion, then picnic at a nearby park at the top of a mountain and go hiking. We would end the day with dinner at my sister's house.
We slept in that morning. I didn't wake up until 9 o'clock. I think I can count the number of times I've slept until nine in the past 10 years on one hand. It was glorious! I packed us lunch and off we went.
We showed up to the Harper House and went in to purchase tickets for the tour. The ticket office was an arts and crafts style house behind the main house. We were greeted by a young woman who rang us up and instructed me to sign their guestbook. "Are y'all from around here?" she asked.
"Nope. We evacuated from Charleston yesterday."
"Well, we are glad you're here."
I thanked her and we followed her to the main house. It was like a private tour, just me and the girls. The house had been restored beautifully and we oohed and ahhhed over the printed wallpaper, the Victorian toys and the intricate details in every corner of the house.
We are a little obsessed with house tours and my children have been dragged along with us to so many. They have toured every plantation house and house museum in Charleston, Mount Vernon, Monticello, Montpelier, the Biltmore, the Adams house in Deadwood. There are so many on our bucket list: the Winchester Mystery House, Falling Water, Winterthur, John Adam's homestead, the Breakers.... I need to see them all!
After our tour we went back to where the ticket office was. It was a private residence built in 1912 that was moved to it's current location. We toured it as well. It reminded me of our house in Indianapolis. We owned a 1920's arts and crafts bungalow. It had plaster walls, all the original built-ins, a white picket fence, porch swing and rope and pulley windows. I loved that little house. I can't believe that it's been 10 years since we left there.
Anyway, in the basement of the building was a small museum that had artifacts from the emergency polio hospital that was there in the 40s. They had an iron lung, an old wheelchair, a book with a list of patients (because that was before HIPPA), and a pair of leg braces. When my 12 year old saw the leg braces she turned to me and asked, "Did Forrest Gump have polio?"
"I don't think so."
There was a movie playing on a loop about the polio epidemic. The kids were fascinated by it, which surprised me. They both sat down and watched the polio movie. It talked about the emergency hospital and how devastating it was for children. I think my kids were traumatized. After the credits rolled they turned to me with their eyes wide.
"Mom, do you think WE are going to get polio?"
"No, people in the US don't get polio anymore."
They seemed relieved.
By the time we left it was almost 1 pm and we were getting hungry. We drove 20 minutes to a park at the top of a mountain. It was beautiful. There was a picnic shelter at the entrance and we unpacked our cooler and ate sandwiches and snacks. It was breezy and cool. Fall weather. It was a nice change from the eternal summer that is Charleston.
The girls chatted in-between bites and my 12 year old teased her little sister. "I bet there's clowns in these woods."
"You shut up!" she spit back.
After lunch we decided to go hiking. I saw online that there was a little waterfall and an overlook at the very top of the mountain. There was a board with a map posted of different trails. A park ranger happened to be available and I asked him what trail we should take to see the waterfall.
"Well, I wouldn't call it much of a waterfall but you should take the blue trail. It will pass by it and take you to the overlook."
I glanced back at the map. The blue trail was 1.2 miles. Seemed easy enough. What's a mile? We make 7 year olds run a mile in elementary school gym class. A mile is easy.
I walked into the woods, following the blue trail - just me and my girls. We were not 5 feet in when we heard rustling all around us. My 12 year old got FREAKED out. "What is that? No, we can't go in." I rolled my eyes. "It's just acorns falling out of the trees. Look!" I said, picking one up. They were huge, Chernobyl-sized acorns.
She was not buying it. She sat her behind in the middle of the trail, crossed her arms and refused to get up. "This is creepy. I'm not going." I called her on her bluff. "Okay," I said and continued to walk. I got six feet away from her when I heard the thumping of footsteps behind me trying to catch up. "I hate you, mom."
"No you don't."
She loosened up eventually. My 10 year old found a walking stick and wandered along like Gandalf. My 12 year old gathered leaves. They stopped periodically to take pictures for Instagram. We got to the waterfall which was more like a drizzle over some rocks. It was still beautiful. I was pleased, we were enjoying the fresh air together and the worries of the word were behind us.
Then, things started getting creepy. We came across what were the remains of a cabin in the woods. There were 3 crumbling fireplaces and part of the foundation was still visible. There was a plaque by it that we stopped to read. We went further and there were these small piles of rocks stacked randomly here and there. That's weird, I thought. The kids didn't mention it and we were halfway there so we kept going.
We turned a corner and in the middle of the trail were 3 piles of leaves that had been brushed into a pile 6 feet long and 4 feet high.
I stopped in my tracks. I bet there is dead bodies under those leaves. That's the kind of shit I think about. I wanted to turn around and run screaming out of the woods but didn't want to freak out the kids. Besides, we were so far in that it would take just as long to get out than to keep going. I mean, surely they weren't dead bodies. "Don't step in the piles of leaves, girls. Just go around them." You know, just in case they were dead bodies.
We walked around them and kept going. At that point the trail was straight uphill. We were struggling. We'd climb and then rest, climb and then rest. We were out of breath and I kept telling the kids "We're almost there" to keep them going. I mean, we had to be. We were walking forever. There were more piles of rock. It was some Blair Witch type of shit. We finally were at the end. The kids were exhausted. "C'mon guys! We're not going to let this mountain conquer us! We are going to conquer the mountain!" They gave one final push and we finally made it to the lookout. I don't know who calculated the path but it felt like more than a mile.
We stood at the lookout and looked off into the horizon. We could see all the mountains and trees. It was beautiful.
We laid on the wooden planks of the lookout and stared at the sky for a while. The blue trail had whooped our asses. It looked like it would be getting dark soon so we got up to make our way back. We took the orange trail that was half a mile down hill. There were no creepy dead-body-leaf piles on the orange trail. Thank goodness.
We walked out of the woods almost 3 hours after we had gone in. The girls were cheering. "We survived the mountain!" Just barely. We passed the park ranger on our way back to the car. I was annoyed at him. Why didn't he warn me that the hike was horrible? He saw I was alone with two kids. I later looked on the website that described the hike as "strenuous". That's putting it mildly.
We picked up my 5 year old nephew and headed to my sister's house to make dinner for her. He is so adorable. He was telling me that we needed to go to Washington D.C. the following day to see the Abraham Lincoln statue. I told him "We'll see." We didn't get to my sister until 7. She has her hands full with a one month old and a 2 year old. She is living my exact life 10 years ago. I made spaghetti and salad while my daughters passed the baby between them. The boys played with toys and rough housed.
After dinner, I sat on the couch and I could barely keep my eyes open. There was no way that I would be able to drive back to where we were staying on the dark country roads with my kids in the car. I decided to be safe and stay put.
My girls played with the little ones for a while and then settled in to watch TV. The baby started being cranky, because that's what babies do. My 2 year old and 5 year old nephews were being a unruly. I will put these young children to bed, I thought. It will be easy. "I'll take care of these two," I told my sister who gave me a look that said, Thank Jesus.
I tucked the 2 year old into bed and turned on his lullaby toy-thing he has. Then I made a pallet for the 5 year old and laid down next to him. "It's bedtime."
"I don't want to go to bed."
"You have to."
The 2 year old got up and was standing in front of the closed door calling for his mama. I got up, picked him up and put him back in bed. "Mama's taking care of the baby. Time for bed."
Back to the 5 year old who still insisted that it was not bedtime. "How about I tell you a story and rub your back?"
He thought for a minute. "Okay."
The two year old was up again. I told the 5 year old to hold tight and I got up and put him back in his bed. "I love you. Good night!"
Back to the 5 year old. "What story do you want?
"The Three Little Bears."
"Okay. Once upon a time there was a cabin in the woods..."
"NO. That is not the Three Little Bears."
The 2 year old was up again. "Hold on..." I got up and put the 2 year old back in his bed. "Go to sleep now." Back to the 5 year old. "There were Three Little Bears that lived in the woods..."
"NO. That's not the story!!!!"
I was so tired, I was dying. "Just listen to the story and close your eyes!"
He finally relented and let me tell my version of The Three Bears.
I don't know who fell asleep first-me or him. All I know is that I was awoken my my oldest daughter nudging me. "Mom, come sleep with us!" I don't actually remember getting up but I woke up the next morning in the guest bedroom sandwiched between my children. It was a good place to be.
This past week has been quite an adventure. We evacuated on Wednesday morning ahead of Hurricane Matthew. I was trying to leave a few hours before they reversed the lanes on the interstate. With my husband gone, it required a group effort.
I woke up early Wednesday morning and got the kids up. I gave them each a written list of what they needed to pack. That was their job. I had a list a million miles long to accomplish. I packed my things and then I had to get the stuff together for the pets. I finished all the laundry and loaded the dishwasher. I packed us a lunch and snacks for the car ride. Then I had to move everything from outside into the garage: hanging plants, solar lights, trashcans, my porch chair and flag. Anything that could become a projectile was brought in.
I was trying to be on a mission but my kids kept interrupting me every 2 minutes to ask me stupid questions.
"Mom, where do we keep the toothpaste?"
"The same place it's been the past 6 years."
"Mom, should I use the red bag or the black bag?"
"Whatever one you like."
"But what do YOU think?"
"Mom, do you think this outfit will be okay?"
"Sure."
"But mom, you didn't even look at it."
This one is my favorite: "Mom, can I use the bathroom upstairs?"
The crazy thing is that they NEVER ask my option about anything. Now, all of a sudden while I am lugging lawn furniture in the house they feel the need to track me down and insist that I give them guidance about making the simplest of decisions. Go figure.
I finally got the house together and packed up the car only 15 minutes after I originally had planned. That's when my phone rang. It was my husband. "What time are you leaving?"
"We're leaving now."
"Did you remember to put all the outside stuff inside, unplug the computer, ect.?"
I don't know why he feels the need to micromanage me from Texas. My shit is ON POINT.
"Yup. I have it all taken care of."
"Well, the interstate looks clear. I just looked at the cameras."
"They do? I was going to take back roads."
"Just be safe, OK?"
He worries too much. I should have told him that I planned to pick up any hitch hiking serial killers I may come across but I decided against it. He already seemed on edge.
"Love you! I'll text you when I get there."
We said goodbye to the house and off we went. As soon as I exited onto the interstate it was bumper to bumper traffic. I cursed my husband. I'm turning around. As soon as we got to the next exit, I got off and started going back east. We were driving back to our original location to start again when the lights of a police car passed us followed by what seemed like 30 school buses all headed into Charleston. It was the strangest sight to see. The kids were fascinated. "What is happening?"
"They are coming to take people out of the city for the storm," I explained.
We took the back roads and every so often I remarked at the hurricane evacuation route signs. I never paid them much attention before, we've lived here over 9 years and this is the first time we've ever had to leave because of a hurricane. It made me a little sad.
The ride was a long one even though we didn't hit any traffic. We were going northwest of Charlotte so it was a 4 hour drive. We stopped at a grocery store when we got into town. The kids had been so well behaved up until this point. We unloaded out of the car and stretched. As we were walking in, my youngest asked if we could get a pineapple.
"No, we aren't getting a pineapple. They are expensive and a pain to chop up."
"PLEASE?!?!"
"I'll get you some pineapple chunks," I suggested. I thought that would be a happy medium. No, not so much.
"God, mom! You are so ghetto."
Look at these pineapple chunks- they are so ghetto!
It only went down from there. I told the kids they could pick a snack under $4. That was a problem. They were hitting each other and whining. My two MIDDLE SCHOOL daughters. I yelled at them in public because I'm white trash like that. I understand why people take Xanax.
Finally, we got to our destination. We were hosted by the adopted parents of 3 of my siblings. If that sounds complicated, that's because it is. I have 8 brothers and sisters all together. It's a really long story.
We see them a couple of times a year and we just love them. They are awesome people. They took us in and showed us to our rooms and made us dinner. Finally, for the first time all day I could exhale.
I texted my husband, "Got here safe. Love you." Then we waited on the storm....
I wrote a whole blog about visiting the pumpkin patch with my humongous, adult-sized children but there are more pressing matters right now. Like, evacuating my home in preparation for Hurricane Matthew. On a side note, growing up my dad used to call pooping an "evacuation". If you had to poop, you were having an "evacuation notice." So, all this talk about evacuations has me chuckling and imagining that everyone is talking about pooping. Everyone on the South Carolina coast is having an evacuation notice.
I've had a bad feeling about the storm since this weekend. Feelings confirmed.
My husband left on Monday for a 2 week business trip in Texas. Before I dropped him off at the airport, he turned to me and asked, "Are you going to be OK?"
I laughed, "Don't you think it's a little late to be asking that question?"
"Good point."
Last night was his first night gone. I made brownies and watched Hocus Pocus with the girls. I checked the weather before bed and first thing this morning. I was concerned. This afternoon as I did the daily drop offs to marching band and gymnastics practice we listened to the governor's press conference about evacuating the coast. She said what my gut had been telling me for the past two days. We need to go.
I have family in North Carolina who has graciously offered to take us in and I'll spend tomorrow morning finishing packing, taking down my outdoor decorations, porch furniture, and gathering my pictures/important documents.
I'm over here in get-everything-together mode and my husband calls and says shit like, "I'm headed to dinner at the riverwalk" and "Did you know my hotel is only 2 blocks from the Alamo?"
I know many people that are riding out the storm and I don't judge them but I cannot do it alone with two kids. I don't think the flooding will be bad where I am, it's the wind speeds that frighten me. I liked in Oklahoma for 3 years and it truly traumatized me. During tornado season, we were on the alert for a storm every week it seemed. You would get 50-60 mph winds and the house would shake and there was this terrifying whistle.
I was 7 months pregnant with my youngest child, my oldest was almost 2 and we were having a really bad storm, probably 70 or 80 mph winds. The house was shaking, you could literally hear the glass rattling in the panes and whooshing like we were in a wind tunnel. The tornado sirens started going off, which is the freakiest thing ever. Think air raid, think end of the word-type shit. When the tornado sirens go off that means you better find shelter because you are in imminent danger.
All the rooms in the house had windows, so we pulled our mattress into the hallway. My husband and I huddled under it and I pulled my oldest daughter onto my lap and sang her songs to keep her calm and distracted. We prayed that a tornado wouldn't rip off our roof or blow trees or debris into our windows. We prayed to GOD to keep us alive and we waited out the storm.
One year, the windows at my husband's work got blown out from a bad storm. If you ask him about Oklahoma he'll say, "I don't know why they call it God's country when they have hail, tornadoes, earthquakes and locus swarms all the time."
We lived in a sturdy brick home then. The house I live in now is basically made out of toothpicks and pre-fab siding. If we stayed to ride out the storm, I could just see me and my daughters huddled in my walk-in closet for 12 hours. Not happening. I don't mess with high winds.
Tomorrow, we will head out. It will probably be some bullshit hassle. My kids will probably fight in the car and declare they have to pee a half hour into our trip. They will be bored after 40 minutes and eat all the snacks I pack within the first hour. Because they are my kids, and that is what they do.
