I had a friend ask me before our booster meeting as I sat down Tuesday, “How are you?” I said, without hesitation, “We’re doing well. The season is two days in and has been as smooth as ever. It’s awesome.”
She didn’t pause and asked again, “But how are you?”
But then the meeting started, and we were immediately planning the marching show premiere barbecue, how many buses it would take to get the band to the game, and whether everything was covered for our event next weekend. Here we are, mid-July, and summer is gone, and our house is now full speed ahead, transforming my husband from “Child Wrangler and Somewhat Normal Spouse” back to full-on “Band Director Mode.”
Sometimes, that’s an easy thing; other times, not so much.
This year, in particular, as last year was a hard season, motivating myself to find that love takes a little more “get up and go” than I thought it would. Later that evening, I realized I didn’t have a chance to fully absorb her question.
How. Was. I?
“There’s no ‘I’ in Team”—how many times have we heard that? But sometimes, I need to realize that I’m a little too “team” and that I’m my own person outside of this facet of my identity.
All too often, when a band parent asks me a question, “we” is the collective me that I respond in. “We” also meant avoiding the answer.
Sometimes, people just want to hear that “everything is good,” but friends want to know the real stuff. It was when I re-ran that conversation through my head as I drove to work the next day that I came up with an answer. Then I found myself saying out loud to no one in particular, “Season’s back, I’m a mom and wife, I work a full-time job, and I have no idea who or how I am right now; I’m overwhelmed.”
I realized that when we don’t stop to take stock of ourselves, things can start to go off the rails.
It’s easy to focus life on the things that have to get done, serving our spouses and our kids, but sometimes we just have to stop and ask ourselves, how am I?
It’s been a couple of days now and I’m sitting here scribbling these thoughts down in a rare on-my-own-time moment about to share an even rarer pre-season dinner and drinks with other band moms. This is a newer get-together I started last year to keep in touch with families and create the community that we fiercely know as “Band Family” in our house.
Today though, it struck me that they are much more than this, they are my village. The village that helps me take stock, and allows me to be authentically me, not just “married to that music guy”. I haven’t always had this in this space, but I am ever so grateful for it now.
They are happy not just to hear that everything is fine and talk about the season. They’re there to remind you when you forget to be there for yourself. They make it perfectly okay not to be okay. They support you when things aren’t going great, on and off the field. They offer encouragement as summer transitions into season again and when schedules seem impossible to balance.
They can do this so well because they’ve been a part of this voyage, too. They’ve been there and given me the space to feel seen, heard, and validated – lock, stock, and barrel. They remind me that what I’m feeling is likely temporary, something I’ll work through and come out the other side whole again.
Most importantly, though, in the rough moments, they pull me up and remind me of the amazing life I get to lead, about the wonderfully random events that brought us together for this journey we’re all on.
The process and accompanying excitement of watching a marching show come alive on the field.
The first note of the first game to the last note of the last.
The friendship, the community, the thrill ride that makes this the best family ever.
How am I? I am human.
I am part of a beautiful fabric that doesn’t require me to be happy amongst all the upheaval that occurs from time to time. This transition of routine is the start of yet another beautiful year, and I am stronger because I have them in my corner.
Season is here. I can’t wait.