You can't name That Tune

I remember when I found out I was going to have a baby... Both times.

In my mind I envisioned blowing raspberries on their bellies and playing piggies on their toes.

I remember the day I got them... Both of them. Those beautiful little faces, their eyes meeting mine for the first time. I remember the way they smelled and the absolute joy I felt when I held them in my arms close to my heart.

But something happens as time goes by that changes how you view your perfect little cherubs. Like douchebag boyfriends and band.

Last night was Wyatt's first band concert and my ears are still ringing from the misplayed notes of Hot Crossed Buns and a version of Jingle Bells (I think) that I'm sure even the original composer would fail to recognize.

When Wendy was in sixth grade I forbid her to be in band because I was in band and I know what those instruments sound like when they have the misfortune of being handled by middle schoolers and I remembered how torturous those performances were. Lucky for me, Wendy was the kind of kid that didn't argue or ask questions and happily signed up for choir, which still requires a mandatory Christmas performance appearance but the stakes aren't nearly as high.

But then there's Wy. The way I see it Wyatt either possesses magical powers or I've gone soft as a parent. Probably the latter. That kid has a way of getting everything and doing anything and somehow always manages to convince me he's full of great ideas... Until those great ideas have a direct negative impact on me. For instance, last summer when he decided to catch crawdaddys in the pond with hotdogs on a string and then I had to cook them when I had no idea how to cook crawdaddys and then the crawdaddys heads were full of crawdaddy eggbrains (I think I just threw up in my mouth a little).

Or band.

I guess I'm lucky that Wyatt is obviously a clarinet prodigy because he has NEVER practiced at home. I swear I have never heard him play a note, but last night on that stage with homeless hair and a borrowed tie he belted out those songs with pride and afterwards asked if I could hear him from where I was sitting (as close to the parking lot as possible) as he beamed over his success as a blossoming musician.  So I guess I'm ok with him being musically inclined, as long as I don't have to attend another concert until he's been accepted to the Portland Symphony.

On a lighter note...   ;)

I think 6 will FINALLY be home tonight. I swear, his Mother must feel like she's hit the jackpot and he and I got a divorce and she has him home again. Most of his loads take him up north so that means layovers back home which is really a good thing because he's getting to spend time with his Mom and Maddy. Ever since we moved down here, almost five years ago, he hasn't been able to see them nearly as much as he'd like and he's missed out on so many things like birthdays (and band concerts lucky bastard) and so many other milestones that are so hard to miss. So, even though it's hard to be home alone for so long, I know it just builds my character and keeps my ass from getting to ginormous and at least we get to see him a few days a month which is better than when he was gone to Iraq. I have to say, it's really nice to miss him and not hate his guts anymore. I suppose everyone does stupid things, look at me, I've done at least five stupid things and at least two REALLY stupid things~Jack~and we all deserve a do-over. I'm really glad he's doing his so well ♡

See you tomorrow.