When I pictured this last weekend, I pictured a couple of days filled with kid activities. I pictured us running around - Chuck and I scrambling to make sure everyone got where they needed to go exactly when they needed to be there. I pictured fun. I pictured a few meltdowns (of both the kid and adult variety).
We got all of that. We also got some wackiness and a bunch of unexpected twists and turns.
It started Friday night with the kids both agreeing to go to the Carleton men's basketball playoff game. If you know my kids in their present-day form you'll know why this is weird. They prefer to cuddle up on the couches for Pizza Friday and watch movies together. We traipsed off to St. Thomas, feeling like we were introducing the kids to our old, familiar MIAC days. Only St. Thomas has now built what looks like a small airport terminal on their campus where the parking lot used to be. So that was weird.
Saturday we went to karate. Normal.
Saturday afternoon Jack had to come with me to my basketball game. He's never done that before. I have my game-face on, playing with dudes and trying not to get dunked on. Also trying not to throw my back out and show how old I am. I'm hitting shots and getting steals, helping us on a 15-0 run to bring the game within 5 points with 5 minutes remaining. And then I hear "Momma. Momma. Momma. Momma." Jack is standing 2 inches from the sideline, right next to me. And he wants to talk about who is winning and who is losing. So that was weird.
Saturday afternoon we went to the "carnival" at Jack's school. Quotations used purposefully. To be fair, it was hosted by the church that the school leases their space from, not by the actual school. But it was promoted by the school. The posters and flyers said "carnival" from 2:30 to 3:45 and then "show" from 3:45-5. There were top hats and magicians' wands. The carnival lived up to it's name, full of bouncy houses and games and face-painting and popcorn. Then everything abruptly stopped. They kicked kids out of line and packed up the karaoke machine and told everyone it was time to go to the sanctuary. The school puts on performances there so I didn't think much of it. They had the spotlights circling, beach balls flying through the crowd, music playing, and mic'd clowns running around on stage. They welcomed us all there, then told us it was time for worship. I'll skip the full story and just finish by saying that the school will get a letter from me later this week, telling them they need to be more careful with the things they are promoting, and asking them to kindly use more descriptive language than "show." Call it "worship" or "service" and I'd know to guide the children out of there before getting their hopes up and then confusing them. We did have a good talk on the walk home about what happened, and why it made us feel uncomfortable.
Sunday we went to our first karate tournament. That seemed normal at the start - Jack did his basic forms and got his very first trophy. Then we were sitting around waiting for the black belt stuff to start - and I began people-watching. Turns out that karate draws a very, very odd assortment of participants. There are people of all shapes and sizes and seemingly abilities, and then you look down and realize they are a 3rd degree black belt. It was fascinating. And the spectators were equally strange and had zero sense of personal space. The adults kept bumping into me, kicking me when I was sitting on the floor, and pushing my chair from behind. The children kept hugging Jack and Ryker and patting me on my knee.
The black belt team championships were amazing though. Serious athletes there. We got to see his school's director compete in a form competition. Then we stayed to watch one of his teachers compete in team sparring. I've seen some sparring, but that was only practice. This was for real. Mr. Schneider is a young, athletic kid who is animated and wonderful with the kids. In the ring, he was a beast, until he got knocked down three feet in front of us. He didn't pop right back up, but laid flat on his back. His face was twisted in pain and he wasn't moving one arm. I glanced over at it, and shouldn't have. I'll skip this full story too, and finish by saying that moms were covering their kids' eyes and I sprinted out of there, to my car, and sped home.
At least there weren't as many meltdowns as I had imagined.
