Friday, April 04, 2008


It was award night at JROTC last night.

No: Award Night with capitals because there was a sound track and everything so you know it was a Proper Noun Night all around.

And because I do love Child 1 and Child 3 I did not take my book to Award Night (which is a family tradition by the way. My father still takes his Louis L'Amour to the symphony - and he takes it out and reads it during every break), and I did not wear my 12 year old sweatshirt that I stole from Kirk three months after he bought it, and I firmly repressed all urges to shout "you GO baby!!" every time they called one of the Children's names. Which means I completely earned that framed certificate they gave me for... apparently having successfully bred AND not killed my oldest Child, which totally made up for all of those sleepless nights and stuff. Totally.

[funny story - the announcer was doing the lead up chat to handing out these "awards" to the parents of the graduating seniors and actually said, "To all those parents who have stuck it out for three years, or four years or even {pregnant pause} ... one year." I happily whispered "even... one year" and giggled to Child 1 three times during the rest of the evening]

Both Children received a letter* which amused the hell of me because it reminded me that I personally lettered in Drama in high school. And if letter jackets didn't cost a bajillion dollars I would so buy one now and sew on my Drama letter (or I would if I hadn't pitched it years ago during one of our moves) and I would strut around campus and patronize all of the jocks.

Then they both got a fitness award which completely shut me up because it never, ever occurred to me that any member of my family would be awarded for fitness (Kirk's side? Oh yes. Mine? Not so much). Child 1, who admitted it had struggled to complete 2 laps at the start of the year now runs under a 10 minute mile AND regularly does more sit-ups than anyone else in its class (that's full sit ups mind you, where you cross your arms on your chest and sit up so darn far you can put your elbows past your knees. None of those sissy "crunches" that really mean you're just picking your head up and looking focused). Child 3 meanwhile runs a cool 6:27 mile at the moment and voluntarily does things like pull ups and push ups and other muscley-bendy things. I'm so darn impressed with them both.

Then we zipped into the main event which was the Award awards. These are sponsored by various groups, like the Veterans of Foreign Wars or the Daughters of the American Revolution, and I saw the woman I want to be when I grow up. She must have been 70 something, bounced up the stage stairs, instantly whipped all four people up there into shape ("no, that's not the right thing, here, look at this, hold that, turn that over...") AND was overheard later that night browbeating the Senior Msgt into submission for not recycling the soda cans. She rocked.

However, I have to admit that I was only one for two on Correct Associative Military Response to my Children's awards. Child 3 received the award for leadership sponsored by the Purple Heart Recipients of America, and I know enough to agree with Child 3 that it is a totally cool award, and that I did get a little chokey and teary just thinking about all the people who are represented by that medal and that it probably should go up on the wall so it can be admired properly. But Child 1? It came back from the stage and showed me its new medal and my response was, "oooh! It's all stripy and pretty!"

But it's definitely going on the wall too.

Along with my Successfully Avoided Infanticide award.

Because I earned that damnit.

*Note for non-American type readers: American high schools hand out these school letters - literally letters. They're felt-backed, fuzzy A's or B's or in this case S's in the school colors. The idea is you then buy a ridiculously over-priced jacket (see sample photo) to which you attach the letter (or letters) to announce to the world that... well, that you have a letter I suppose! Personally I've always associated the things with activities involving sweating and running and other jock stuff so the whole idea of a Drama letter just makes me giggle. However, my darling Children, that does not mean that YOUR letters are not Very Impressive and Entirely Deserved. Which they are. No really.


Child 1 said...

guess what! im a jock too! i got an athletic letter for being on the (of all else) drill team. not the short shorts pom pom wearing dancing hotties but the geeky jrotc drill team where we do, heaven forbid, drilling.

For Kirk said...

with drills?

Child1 said...

no with feet