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Rock ‘N’ Roll Mama

A few weeks ago I was very excited to be invited to a concert because A) I love live music, and B) this mama doesn’t get out for nearly enough non-kid involved fun. I said “yes,” of course, but as the big night draws close something very strange has happened… I’ve started to feel apprehensive about going.

When I was younger I never could have imagined being anything but 100% ecstatic to go to a concert. I loved concerts so much, in fact, that I worked in the music industry, and went to at least two or three shows a week. I was totally one of those young girls you see at concerts too, rocking a baby doll T-shirt and tight jeans while dancing my butt off at the front of the stage.

Nothing could ruin my concert experience then. The amps are turned up so loud my ears will bleed? Rock on! The headliner won’t take the stage until two a.m.? Who needs sleep? Standing in heels for a three hour show followed by four encores? Let’s do this!

Now, a decade later, I have so many potential concert buzz killers. For example:

~What to wear: I’m certainly not going to stuff this post-kids body into a baby doll T-shirt and tight jeans. But then I don’t want to look like a grandma either. And I REALLY don’t want to look like a Grandma trying to look like young thang.

~Noise level: When did everyone start to exclusively use those amps from Spinal Tap that go up to “11″? I guess I need to go out and buy earplugs. But maybe, um, rocking earplugs? Do those exist? If not I will be the grandma looking lady stuffing earplugs into her ears. Not cool.

~Stamina: What if I get stuck behind people who have to dance the whole time? I do not want to have to stand for TWO HOURS when I could be enjoying the concert from the comfort of my seat.

~Start time: The concert I’m going to is supposed to start at eight, but if they have an opening act the headliner won’t go on until ten which means the show won’t be over until well after midnight! That is not going to work when Annie will be calling for me to take her out of her crib at seven-thirty the next morning.

It’s kind of sad when something like this drives home how old I’ve gotten. But you know what? I’m going to go to this concert and have a great time. This mama can still rock and roll… even if I’d prefer an acoustic show that starts at noon with a seated audience and golf claps.


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