As The Season Finally Winds Down

Just one hour to the Cheerleader Banquet of 2009. I helped decorate yesterday afternoon - one mom actually had a whiteboard with the decorating plan mapped out on it. I remember when I went to the Fall Banquet when I lettered in tennis, I was stuck in the cafeteria with the football team, the cheerleaders and some other people I don't remember and believe me, there wasn't a tablecloth, table topper or potted plant in sight.

While they were setting up the drink table, the words, 'Where will we be tapping the keg?' nearly fell out of my mouth. Because falling down drunk is the only way to experience the excruciating boredom about to be forced upon me and LawyerBoy tonight.

But Prep is getting her Varsity letter tonight and nothing makes my heart sing than watching her shine.

Welcome to My Personal Hell

Tonight is the Holly Ball. Seems like we just had one. Hormonal sixteen and seventeen year olds get together for the opening of the Christmas season with a big fancy ball.

At 5:15, I have to be dragged into the "picture party." If you think Brad and Angie face an onslaught of paparazzi with flashing camera lights, you have seen nothing until 18 girls with 18 dates showup at the biggest house in Buckhead with 2 parents apiece, each armed with the biggest, fanciest cameras known to modern photography.

The photographic record of this event is more substantial than any other orchestrated event in modern history.

Remember, people, this isn't even prom. This is the Holly Ball.

And my sworn duty is to take as many pictures of the lovely and charming Prep (my Prep, with her date, without her date, with her friends, without her friends, with her father, by the Christmas tree, with the cheerleaders... well, you get the idea. And maybe, just maybe, there will be a picture with me. ) to be posted later on some social networking page for all to view, including all the colleges she is applying to next year.

I get to socialize tonight, too. What a lovely way to end Thanksgiving holiday. And to think, I don't have to do it again until April when we have prom to look forward to.

Back to School, Differently

Amalah posted yesterday about preschool; well, I've got news, sister. Wait until Noah pulls out of the driveway with his new little sibling in the front seat, headed for his Junior year of high school. Because that's what happened at my house today. Prep and BrownBear piled into their own wheels and pealed out of the driveway, Junior Year and 7th grade, straight ahead.

Dear Me. Where.Did.The.Time.Go? I know. Cliche. But never have truer words been written. I swear, I just brought the two of them home from the hospital. I remember that it was just yesterday Mrs. Lacher from the fourth grade had us painting a ship for the Boston Tea Party out in our driveway. Prep just won the election for president of Student Council in 5th grade. Junior Year? WTF? Literally, it means in approximately 104 weekends, she leaves for college. Let that sink in. I can't. Because it means that while she is chomping at the bit for her new found freedom, I will have to let her go.

A Weekend In the Life of a Cheer Mom (Or Why the Church Frowns on Suicide)

I could really have used a stiff drink yesterday during my mandatory cheer mom meeting. Already being strung as tight as a prostitute in church (or some other such simile), I was ready to come undone. Why weren't they serving drinks?

I was extremely happy to find out that Friday morning breakfasts with the football moms were not mandatory. Imagine my relief. Were they going to fine us like they used to do in sorority when we missed a function? I truly did not know. LawyerBoy wanted to know if Cheer Dads could attend. I told him that I would pay for his meal if he would just do it. Please. Go.

I had to sign up to help with an after home game dinner for the football players and cheerleaders and co-host a pre-game dinner for the cheerleaders. The football backers also goosestepped in and told us that everyone had to sign up to work the concession stand for one quarter during a home game.

Uh, hell to the no. If you need someone to man that station, talk to the man of my house. I don't work in the food service industry. Never have, never will.

There was lots of gushing - stuff I don't do well. I wasn't a good sorority girl. I don't hold hands and sing Kum Ba Yah. (Or whatever the hell it was we used to sing.) So all this cheerleader love is about to push me past my limit.

And people. With school getting ready to start, I am already one step past my limit.

Tonight is Meet and Greet. I get to spread some cheer among my little homeroom darlings. (And after looking at my list, I am thrilled. I don't know if there are some more Bobs, but you know there will be at least one or two doosies.) I still have a few more logistical things to do with my room and then it is go time. I can't believe it.

Count 'Em !!!!