This Has To Get Easier...

I recently discovered the one event when all parents hate being parents. It is the one time that every parent dreads - no matter how well behaved or how terrible your children are.

That event? The 1st through 3rd grades Spring Sing Along.

The paper advertising the stupid "Spring Sing" came in our daughter's backpack a week before it was to take place.
Mrs. Chronically Insane immediately called me at work.

"Is it bad that I don't want to go to this stupid thing?" she asked.

"No" I replied, "Do we have to go?" I asked.

Mrs. Chronically Insane scanned the page quickly but didn't see anything.
She asked Girl - "Do Mommy and Daddy have to go to this thing?"

I heard the answer over the phone... "Yes!! You have to go!! My teacher said so!"

Damn it.


The day of Girl's Spring Sing arrived. I tried finding extra things to do at work that required me to stay late - but no such luck.
I arrived at home to a hurricane of children, children's toys, and children's clothing.

"Okay - help me out. Take The Boy - I have to get Girl dressed" my wife said as she hurriedly handed me The Boy. "Anyone who doesn't live here - please leave" she demanded.

I made the mistake of asking what was for dinner...

"We aren't having dinner tonight! We don't have time - we have to leave in half an hour!"

On the edge of my tongue was - "But - you've been home all day...", but 7+ years of marriage has taught me one very important lesson.

Never say - "But you've been home all day" to a woman who stays home with kids and who used to play hockey. That woman will inflict pain on you.

I took my son to the play room and immediately started showing him the best way to grip the ball when throwing across the infield.
I heard footsteps pounding towards me.

"Aren't you getting him dressed?" my wife asked.

Good Lord...

"No! I'm showing him how to grip the..." was as far as I got before realizing that she wanted me to get The Boy dressed, and she wanted it done NOW!

My wife and the kids were finally ready to go, and we were headed for the door when she asked - "What are you wearing, Honey?"

Again, I've been around this place long enough to realize that her tone implied that she wasn't pleased with the jeans and t-shirt I had on.

"Listen" I started my answer with caution, "I'm here, and I'm going with you. This is what I'm wearing."

Good enough...

We arrived at the auditorium with only 3 minutes to spare and discovered immediately that seating was at a minimum - and by "at a minimum" I mean none.
We managed to wedge ourselves between a family of what appeared to be Lemurs, and an extremely short tempered, grumpy individual who decided that getting up to let us pass him was unnecessary - but complaining and staring at us was...



The show began on a bad note (no pun intended) with serious technical difficulties. My daughter's class was forced to sing the first 2 songs of the performance twice because the sound engineer couldn't manage to find the appropriate buttons to press on the 8 track player...

Chaos broke out in the front row when all the parents started laughing and cheering. The children started jumping up and down yelling "This isn't the end of the show! This isn't the end of the show!!"
This encouraged further cheering and laughing from parents.
The music director had difficulty getting everyone calmed down - but she finally succeeded.

It was at this point when The Boy decided to restore a little chaos for himself. Somehow, among a sea of 3,000 people, my son managed to be the loudest and most excited child at precisely all the wrong moments...
He started screaming at his sister, bouncing up and down on my lap, and slapping the gentleman's shoulder seated in front of us.
Every parent within 300' of us who was trying to record their child singing has The Boy screaming "dat! dat! dat! dat! dat! dat! gah!!!" in the background.

My wife decided it would be prudent to remove him from the auditorium. He didn't go without a fight, however, and managed to kick a few heads and knock a few cameras on his way out.

The Spring Sing came to a close, we collected our daughter, made our way to McDonald's for a healthy dinner, then finally returned home.

After putting the children to bed - Mrs. Chronically Insane and I reflected on our evening by flipping a coin to see whether she'd be getting her tubes tied, or I'd be getting a vasectomy...