Battle of the Bands, these are incredibly important, they can get real competitive, and there are copious amounts of work that go into them. They are also on my mind right now because The Husband has one tonight. I don’t get to make it to all the shows, I must be choosey when to turn in my babysitter card, so I have to make sure they are the good ones. I seem to always choose poorly, I end up at the one that nobody showed for, then all night I get to hear “I don’t know what’s going on with tonight, last night’s show was packed!” Not tonight, though, it’s a battle of the bands and I am certain that it is going kick butt, I am so pumped… and so exhausted. I wonder sometimes if it is even worth it.
To shed a little light on the days leading up to a big show, let’s start when The Husband finds out about it, a couple months in advance. It’s on a Friday night, being that I work the late shift on a Friday I request the morning shift that day, pencil it in on the calendar, and start searching for a babysitter. Unfortunately, this is such a big show everyone I trust to watch my babies is going. Except for Grandpa, God bless his soul! Whew! Now that that is all planned we can fast forward to a week before, double check on the sitter and work. The blog needs to be started earlier because my Friday morning blog and coffee time is nonexistent. I need to also plan my hair washings so they align with the show (no joke, I gotta look good). I try to get to sleep early Thursday night, because Friday is going to be a doozy, but who are we kidding? This will not happen. So then it’s the day of, I wake up at my normal time, four thirty AM. Get to work by six, bust my butt for a good eight hours and rush home around two. On my drive home I will call the Husband: “What do you need, I am out of work now?”
“Grab the merch bag, charge the cameras, and make sure you are ready when I get there if you are going with me.”
Ok, then it’s two thirty when I get home, I have half an hour before the kids get off the bus. I want to nap so hard, but I cannot. Instead I brew a big pot of afternoon coffee and make sure The Husband’s requests are met. By then the kids are getting off the bus, I hand out all the hugs and kisses and “how were your days?” sit them down and start them on their homework, while I prepare a big early dinner. After they are done with their homework and dinner has been served I jump in a soothing, hot shower, shaving, finally washing my hair, taking time to let the conditioner soak in while I have imaginary conversations with everyone that will be there tonight, forgetting about all space and time. Time? Shit, what time is it?! I frantically jump out of the shower, yell at the kids to go pack a bag for Grandpas tonight. By then The Husband is home and getting in the shower while I am applying minimal makeup because now I have no time to look as fabulous as previously planned. I throw on my clothes, my amazing blow out ends up being a messy bun. Luckily, I have big shiny earrings to distract from the rest of the hot mess showing up tonight. I am still screaming at my precious angels (that should be old enough to take care of themselves) to quit screwing around, pack their bags and get ready to go. I try on three different pairs of shoes before I say screw it and go with the first ugly pair, pout for exactly thirty seconds about how I never have anything nice to wear or time to look good for these things. I push the kids out the door and tell them to go wait for me in the car. I have exactly thirty seconds to assess and double check if I have everything, make sure the dogs are put away and fed, lights are off, and doors are locked, load the car up with merch, cameras, The Husband needs nine-volts now, search for those forever, where the ef are the nine-volt batteries?! Oh, they are right here in the merch bag. At the last-minute jump in the car and go drop the kids off, give them a quick kiss goodbye and get in to go.
I then get exactly twenty minutes of The Husband all to myself before I share him again with a mass of fans, band mates, and the schwoozers and schmoozers. Is it really worth all that? I mean is this really all worth the chaos, the missed parent times, the late nights? Even The Husband has a hard time keeping up, and while the frenzy of texting plans, I could see that.
I do ask myself this during these rushed times, when I am watching life spiral around me like someone turned on the spin cycle. Is this all worth it?