Volun-tears

Y'all, I seriously don't know why I open my big mouth sometimes.

I have this horrible habit of biting off more than I can chew ... and then chewing it anyway. Like the time I volunteered to make Ninja Turtle cake pops for Coby's entire class, despite the fact that I had never attempted cake pops in my life. Or the time I volunteered to make Poké Ball cake pops for Cameron's entire class. Or the time I spent hours making the "easy, no-sew" cartoon character pillows my kids begged me to make and ended up with superglue and felt fuzz all over myself. 

I will never fail you if I commit to something — and the result will normally be super impressive (well, okay, except for maybe those no-sew pillows) — but I'll damn near kill myself doing it. 

To preface this story: Corbin is playing freshman football. And last week, just a couple of days before the homecoming parade, one of the other freshman football moms posted in the TeamReach app about the team float (which was actually just a trailer that the kids were going to ride on and throw candy). She said she'd gotten some poster boards, and would "try to make them look pretty."

Now a few years ago when Coby was in freshman football, their team homecoming float was a big to-do. All the moms decorated it with a balloon arch and streamers and so much other shit (that in retrospect I'm sure the boys cared nothing about). We got together a few days in advance at someone's house and made posters. But no one organized anything of the sort this year, which is why it totally snuck up on me. I'll happily join in on the preparation, but if you're asking me to actually organize something? Fuhgeddaboutit.

When I saw the post in TeamReach, though, I felt bad. There wasn't really time to orchestrate a whole bunch of decorating, but they should at least have some really nice posters, right? And it wasn't fair for her to do them all by herself, was it? And I love doing that kind of stuff, don't I? And I have the time, yes?

You can see where this is going.

"I love that kind of stuff!" I commented on the post (can't you just hear the chipper over-eagerness? Ugh). "So if I can help by doing some (or even all!) of the posters just let me know how many we need!"

Some, I said. OR. EVEN. ALL.

Which I how I ended up with poster boards and markers spread all over my kitchen, and two days to whip up freshman football posters that would knock the socks off all 100 viewers of our small town's big homecoming parade.

I started out optimistic. So much so that I didn't even get started on them until like 2pm that first day. That's when I realized that I needed to use paint markers instead of the old, drying Crayola markers shoved into one of our umpteen junk drawers. I spent like $30 at Hobby Lobby and came home ready to tackle (hehe, no pun intended) the posters.

But then I realized that the red marker I bought looked more like hot pink. And this was a football float. Hot pink simply would not do. There is nothing formidable or tough about hot pink. So I sent Cameron to buy a replacement.

He came back with two six-packs of assorted paint markers ... and there went another $40 from my bank account. At least these were actually red, though.

All was going well at first.

The fumes may have been going to my head, but I didn't care. I was committed! These were going to be the most awesome posters EVER!

But as the minutes turned into hours, and the clock ticked away, it dawned on me that my perfectionism — the very most important ingredient for great posters — was costing me a lot of time. That first day, I worked until my fingers were stiff, breaking only to cook dinner, and ending at about 9 p.m., ...

... with ONE poster done, and an impending sense of doom.

The next day was crunch time: the parade was literally that evening, and I had to have all of the posters done and to the high school parking lot by 6 p.m. So there I was at my kitchen table at 5:30 in the morning, hunched over a poster board and questioning my life choices. 

Y'all? When I say I worked right up to the last minute, I mean it. I did not do my normal household chores. I did not get out of my pajamas. I did not eat. I DREW. And ERASED. And SKETCHED. And COLORED. And by about 4 that afternoon, I realized that my goal of six posters had been overly ambitious and I was only going to get four done. The first two were excellent: detailed, complex, impressive. The last two ... well, they were all right, but far less detailed. You could tell I was pressed for time, let's put it that way.

Poster #1: Yes, I FREEHANDED this football helmet. I want that fact engraved on my headstone.

Poster #2: I also freehanded this tiger. Engrave that shit too if there's room please.

Poster #3: I also freehanded this football, which was arguably more difficult than the tiger. I wanted to color in the letters of "FRESHMAN" but ... no.

Poster #4: It might say "Tiger Territory," but it also says, "I have like one hour left to get these done and out the door, so this is what you get."

(Also, no, I don't know why our mascot is a tiger but our school colors are red and gray.)

I finished up with approximately 30 minutes left to get them to the high school. And let me just tell you: if you want to feel old, spend a solid day and a half making posters when you're over 40. The way my body ached, you'd have thought I'd been hauling freakin' rocks. My shoulders were tight and sore. My neck was sore. I had blisters on a couple of my fingers. I had rug burn on my knees, because I alternated between standing at the kitchen table and kneeling by the coffee table in the living room.

But I got the posters done.

When we went to the high school, it was raining. I was petrified the rain would ruin my hard work before the posters even got on the float, so I stood there holding my umbrella over them while I got wet. Then the tape wouldn't stick to the trailer, and the boys didn't want to hold the posters because they'd be throwing candy. So we poked holes in the posters. With a knife. And zip-tied them to the trailer, as I died a little inside.

To add insult to injury, I don't even know what became of the posters after the parade. Not that I needed them — what was I gonna do, hang them up to compliment my living room decor? — but the thought of two days of hard labor (okay, aggressive coloring) being thrown in the trash made me sad. I'm gonna pretend they're, like, in someone's garage somewhere.

New paint markers: $70

Five freshman football posters that took an estimated five years off my life expectancy: priceless. 

... I guess.