Last Friday night was a big night for me.
No, I did not have a hot date, so get your mind out of the gutter.
Actually, it was the first time that Your’s Truly got to volunteer in the band’s concession stand!
I think I hear crickets chirping.
Have I bored you already?
Well, please, read on, because it was a very big deal to me.
First, the background.
See, once upon a time, I was the soccer mom of two children.
One day, my Rooster boy up and decided that soccer was no longer the game for him. He was on to bigger and better things.
Drums.
And so, I became a mom of a soccer daughter and a boy who owned drums.
Time passed, and Rooster decided that he wanted to play in the band.
I cringed.
Me? A band mom? Say it ain’t so.
But it was.
Rooster’s first year in band was interesting.
I was still Soccer Mom Elite. Band came in a distant second.
Plus, band meetings were a bore…all of those people sitting up front at a long table.
I went to one meeting, I think. I chafed when I heard that you had to pay membership dues and buy a special shirt to be allowed to volunteer with the band. I believed that I should have the right to volunteer without paying money. Plus, money has been oh so tight after being laid off from my splendid-salaried job.
Forget that, I said to myself. I’ll just sit my ever-expanding behind on my stadium seat and enjoy the band from up close.
More time passed, and Chicky went to college.
I remained a soccer mom, but with one child in the house, it was time to play fair.
I picked up my gear and attended one meeting…then another…all without paying said “membership” dues. I was broke (still am) and totally against the fee.
Well, it was during the second meeting when I had the opportunity to speak up.
And speak up I did.
I hoped I did it in a nice way, but I had a few things to get off of my chest.
Lo and behold, I discovered something.
Those people sitting at that long table in the front were…
Get this…
Nice.
GASP!
I know!
They listened to me without putting me down, and they made me feel like they genuinely cared.
So, I left the meeting, still not a paid member, but feeling better that I had spoken my mind.
Two days later, a friend told me that someone had generously paid my dues, and I could now start volunteering.
I was embarrassed and floored.
Yes, money is very, very tight at Chez AuburnChick, but I never wanted anyone to pay my way.
But, I humbled myself and thanked the Lord for His provision and for the kindness of unknown others.
The next band practice, I had to fill out the required volunteer forms along with an order form for the all-important booster polo.
This polo, when worn, designates a parent as an “official” member of the booster club.
I looked at the price of the polo and told the treasurer that I would have to pay it in a few days, after the Mr. got paid.
She looked up at me and told me that someone had paid for the shirt as well.
Oh
My
Word.
Tears sprang to my eyes.
I found out that the treasurer had ordered my shirt, already knowing what size I needed. The paperwork wasn’t even necessary.
Now, do you remember that away game I went to a couple of weeks ago? I blogged about it here.
Well, I have to admit something.
Even though I wasn’t chaperoning that game, I took my brand spanking-new polo with me…just in case they needed someone to fill in.
I never said a word, and they didn’t need anyone.
A week passed.
Well, because I was now an “official” member, I was free to sign up for other volunteering duties.
I immediately joined up with the concession stand crew for what was expected to be one of the biggest games of the season.
Half of Other Podunk, USA, was expected to fill the stadium, and we would be feeding them.
On Friday, I proudly donned my new shirt…even doing the embarrassing thing of taking pictures of myself and posting them on Facebook.
I’m a dork at heart, you know.
Dweeb to the hilt.
I wore that shirt all day, using the excuse that I didn’t want to mess up my hair by changing clothes later.
Finally, it was time to go.
I was nervous.
I had heard that the concession stand lady (the one in charge) runs a tight ship, and I didn’t want to get fired my first night on the job.
I needn’t worry.
She had things under control, and boy was I impressed.
Look at this amazing new sign our stand sported…
I was given the task of being a runner because, in the words of Concession Stand Lady, “You’re little. You can run.”
Great.
I’d been looking for a way to work exercise into my routine.
Basically, my job was to stand behind the ladies working the front counters and get them the stuff they needed to fill their orders.
Thus, I was responsible for manning these…
I had to make sure we didn’t run out of drinks…
Notice the green?
Yeah. It was a test.
Mountain Dew.
Tons of it.
I resisted.
I am good.
Sometimes.
The orders started coming pretty fast once the gates opened. It took a little while for all of us workers to settle into a routine, but we finally did, trusting each other and laughing a lot in the process.
I thought of my friend, Rebecca Jo, every time I plunged my hand into the Diet Coke bin. It’s her favorite, you know.
I learned how to cock my head just so in order to hear orders being placed and, thus, slip the orders under the arms of the girls at the counters.
I think I irritated one of my co-workers a couple of times when we met each other at the pass, each sporting the drinks that a customer had just ordered.
You might remember that I am an overachiever.
I am also Soccer Mom Elite. I didn’t raise a loser.
Four hours after I started, it was all over.
The home team had lost, but the concession stand had been a success.
It was then when I discovered how sore I was.
Oh
My
Word.
The insides of my ankles hurt. Of course, I’d been wearing flip-flops the entire time…not exactly running attire.
But, I left the stadium with a huge smile on my face. I think I talked Rooster’s ear off in my excitement to share stories of the new friends I’d made.
You see, there is still a part of me that is stuck in high school days…the very unsure moments that filled those years.
That polo shirt worked magic on me.
It transformed me into someone who belongs.
It made me feel like I was part of something bigger.
It’s often hard for me to step outside of myself.
If you’ve read my blog for very long, you know this about me.
I think there’s a part of us that has the desire to fit in.
I think I finally understood why band moms are so hard-core.
It’s not just about the kids, but it is about the shared experiences with the other parents.
And so it was that as I walked away with the echos of, “Would you like to make that a combo,” I did so with a joyous heart (and half-polished nails on the ends of numb fingers).
My polo is already hanging in the closet…eager to be pulled out for another volunteering assignment.
I can hardly wait!
Filed under: This-n-That | Tagged: band, band mom, volunteering | 3 Comments »
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