Things DO Change

I didn't realize I have strong feelings about elementary school band concerts until, well, this year. I managed to go a solid 20+ years without thinking about them and then BAM! Alexis joined band and my blissful oblivion came crashing down.

All of my memories of band concerts involve looooong nights, uncomfortable clothes, and MISERY. I went to a school that was both an elementary school and a middle school, and I'm pretty sure we combined the grades for our programs. Each grade would take their turn, band alternating with chorus, and then before you knew it, three hours of your life were gone.

The concerts always took place in the gym, which was the smallest gym imaginable, as long as you ignored Bell Elementary School. Bell was the place where the free throw lines were the half court lines and if that isn't confusing to you, you're weird. It was confusing. Our gym was at least full length, but it wasn't anything extra. There was a very thin perimeter around the outside of the court and then you met brick wall. Basically, nobody was diving out-of-bounds during a basketball game because there was no out-of-bands.

Imagine shoving hundreds of parents and kids into a gym that isn't big enough to host a basketball game with spectators. It was just as delightful as you're imagining.

Of course, I spent my time in the crammed gym wearing cheap dresses I didn't want to wear, so it was UGH. Pile on a heap of mean kids and band concerts were a thing best forgotten. So that's what I did! For a long time!

Then Alexis brought home a note indicating that it was time for her band concert. I tried to schedule myself out of town for the event, but when that didn't work out, I prepared for the worst.

A toddler to distract me.

Snacks.

Drinks.

A fully charged phone.

More snacks.

Some snacks for the toddler whose job it was to distract me.

Duct tape.

As Alexis ran off to assemble her clarinet, we sat down. We managed to find a spot by some awesome people because once in a while I get lucky. As we chatted, the kids walked to the stage and the program started.

But the gym wasn't full.

It wasn't until that very moment that I figured it out.

Somewhere there is a genius. That genius decided to separate the grades into separate concerts, and to keep band and chorus on their own days. There wasn't a huge crowd because there weren't a lot of kids and ... 20 MINUTES. THAT'S HOW LONG IT TAKES TO HAVE A BAND CONCERT FOR JUST ONE GRADE.

Someday I'm going to have to explain to Alexis that back in my day, band concerts were terrible. They were uphill both ways in six feet of snow terrible.

But not anymore. HOORAY!

The Blacker One

Apparently it's Animal Week all up in this place, so can we talk about the clownfish mystery for a minute? If you linger around the Instagram part of the world, you've seen the punchline to this story, but it's worth filling in so that later when the whole thing takes another twist, I can clearly recall how it all started.

So. The beginning. About a two years ago, the evil maroon clownfish (finally) died and in it's place came two regular clownfish. They were all sorts of Nemo, so much so that one was named Nemo. Alexis named the other one, too, but I've never paid attention long enough to know its name or which fish was which. Instead of playing by the rules, I've always called them "The Blacker One" and "The Not Blacker One" because one had more black on it.

I'm very fancy with my naming.

When the clownfish first moved in, they were roughly the same size, but then The Blacker One went and got bigger. I learned a long time ago that bigger in clownfish land means female. The crazy little things can change back and forth, but generally they're all male except the largest one.

So! The Blacker One was a girl! I knew that a while ago, but that was confirmed when she suddenly got super fat. Like, SUPER fat. One thing led to another and she laid eggs somewhere in the middle of the rocks. I couldn't see them, but based on her behavior, they were right below a piece of coral. If we pull out our Guide to Making Baby Clownfish, after eggs comes about a week of waiting and then babies.

Annnnnnd ... a week went by. And nothing. Which, that wasn't surprising at all. There are a ton of hermit crabs and predatory shrimp and basically I have quite the clean-up crew in the tank. I do that because I am too lazy to actually clean the tank. Given that I haven't cleaned it in ... um ... I'll get back to you on that. A while, anyway. I don't clean -- I leave the clean-up crew just hungry enough to clean up all debris.

I assumed "debris" would include eggs. The snail eggs have always disappeared that way, so it makes sense that fish ones would, too.

But I didn't count on a whole fish suddenly disappearing.

One night, The Blacker One was there. The next morning, she wasn't. There were no signs of foul play. There were no signs of death. There were no signs of ANYTHING. It was the most mysterious of mysteries because how does a fish disappear in a super small tank? Did she call her Seagull friend and make her way back to the ocean?

I still don't know.

What I do know is that the remaining fish, The Not Blacker One, is acting like he's on a leash and can't move more than an inch from the coral where I'm relatively certain the eggs were laid.

I could swear I've seen this movie.

I'm going in this weekend. Come hell or high water, I'm cleaning that tank and I'm going to move the rocks. If I find a baby fish with a gimpy fin, I'm calling Ellen Degeneres. I'm going to need her to narrate the extended tale of The Black One, The Not Blacker One, and their spawn.

Another Year. Another Nest.

My neighbors already know I'm nuts, so I have no qualms about lurking around my own yard in search of bird nests. I've hit gold pretty much every year since I planted the tall evergreen arborvitae at the front of the house. While the deer manage to turn said trees into giant penis-shaped greenery over the winter, the birds find the tops of the penises to be just fine for raising a family.

And, thus, I lurk until I find eggs then I watch baby birds grow up.

This year was no exception. I was getting attacked by birds every time I walked into the front yard, and there was a reason. There were nests on both sides of the sidewalk. Sadly, the nest nearest the driveway fell prey to some deer who returned for snacks and knocked it out of the tree. But! I still had the nest on the other side!

Except that it was up HIGH. It was way at the tippy top of the tree, so it was a struggle to get a photo of the birds, or even to see them. That didn't really stop me. I kept finding things to climb on, even going so far as to drag a footstool to the front yard, because BABY BIRDS! ME LOVE THEM!

Then one day I was walking through the dining room and a cat lost her fool mind lunging at the window. I followed the commotion and HELLO. BABY BIRDS. ONE FOOT FROM THE WINDOW IN PLAIN VIEW.

Photos taken through a window can never be as good as those taken without a window in the way, but no matter. Being able to watch baby birds all day every day wins!

So we all settled in. For a full 10 days, we were able to watch the babies get bigger and more alert. The cats and I thought it was the best thing ever. (They probably could have been nice enough to tell me sooner. Cats are jerks. Jerks who keep secrets.)

The fun has come to an end as the last of the babies flew away today. I managed to catch the first one take to the air for the first time, so while I'm sad it's done, I did make the most of it. So did the mom and dad birds.

Somewhere in that ten-day window, Mila figured out that there was something happening outside the window. It took her a while to notice the babies since they didn't move a lot and sort of blended into the tree, but once she did, it was GAME. ON.

"Bird! Bird!" every morning was the same.

Yesterday morning, though, I had important things to do (read: eat cereal), so I made her walk through the dining room without stopping. She corrected that while I cut a banana for her cereal, which isn't entirely unusual. Mila tends to have the run of the house because she's Mila. She can't be stopped.

Nor does she have any common sense.

When there wasn't anyone standing at the window to help her get to the baby birds, Mila took matters into her own hands. She did everything she could to climb the curtains, all the while screaming, "BIRD! BIRD!"

And there's your explanation for why the babies who seemed like they were going to stay FOREVER suddenly up and left. It was pure fear. Pure, justified fear.

At least I got to see the smartest of the birds leave while Mila tried to climb the curtain.