Monday, May 7, 2007

Almost Famous

I’m sitting at work today and I get a text message.

“Won 8-2.”

It’s my oldest, dropping me a note from his tennis match. I text back, “Sweet!!”

I get a response. “Dork.”

When I pick him up I ask, “Why am I a dork?”

“Two exclamation points. That’s stupid.”

I make some smart-ass comment and he says, “See, that’s why people hate you.”

Which is true, it’s just most people hide it better. I’m used to it by now, so I just laugh and think how each passing day brings me blessedly closer to the grave.

We get home. My middle kid, the one with a band concert tonight, is nowhere to be seen. I yell his name.

No answer.

I yell his name again.

Still no answer, but I see his shoes so he has to be somewhere. Even he isn’t enough of a pinhead to run around the neighborhood in his socks. At least not while it’s raining.

I scream. “Goddamnit, where the hell are you?”

My youngest peeks his head around the corner. “We’re in the computer room.”

“Turn that stupid thing off,” I say. “We have to eat and your brother has a concert. Are you coming?”

From the look the youngest gives me I may as well have asked him to eat raw squirrel. Which I did a couple of years ago, to similar effect.

I yell the name of my middle son again. Face red, blood pressure dangerously high.

“What?” I finally hear.

“Turn that freaking thing off and get up here,” I shriek. “You have to eat, get dressed, and get your instrument ready.”

“Why are you always yelling?” he asks.

It’s 6:00 p.m. and I already need a drink.

He eats, puts on his concert clothes (after much arguing over whether he has to wear a shirt with a collar, which he does), and grabs his instrument. Off we head to middle school.

Sitting in the auditorium, a half hour before the concert starts, I’m accosted by an neighbor with strong views on a public works project. We talk street construction, liquor licensing, property taxes. This is the interesting part of my life.

The music begins. I can’t see my son, he plays an instrument that lands him in the back, but I know in theory he’s somewhere in the auditorium so I feign interest. Where do they get these pieces? Ringtones are more interesting. I have a headache, which isn’t getting better as the night goes on.

I meet him in the hall after the concert. “You guys sounded good.”

“We were awful,” he says.

Define awful, I think. “No really, it was good. Especially the part where your section had a solo.”

He looks at me skeptically, convinced I’m lying, which I am. The only people they sounded good to were me and the other the parents in the auditorium.

We get in the car. I turn on the radio and an old Bob Marley song is playing. It’s great. I liked his concert more.


Anonymous said...

I'm a fan of the double and triple!!! With all of my civil rights that are slipping away, I'm not giving up that one. I will overuse, abuse and be obnoxious with multiple puctuation!!!!!!!! :-p

Anonymous said...

Of course, I can spell punctuation. Or I used to...

Chuckles said...

I think there are a required number of really shitty songs that must be played each year and that number approaches infinity. Maybe at the last concert of the year, the band leader will break out the three fun songs they have been practicing but those three fun songs will all be songs ruined by commercials.

Anonymous said...

I agree with the are a dork and Katie doesn't like you.

Gawd, those kids are super talented! And perceptive too.

Snag said...

Unfortunately, when my kids are not playing those really shitty songs, they are trying to force me to listen to them on the radio. Do you know how bad Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend" is the 50th time through? Really bad.

Even Katie agrees. She's on my side!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anonymous said...

Yeah, but you know you love "Complicated"


*that is how you dork out, my feathery nemesis.

Snag said...

"Complicated" rocks chromium hard.