1. Check the ticket policy. I walked into the venue, little man strapped to my chest, and approached the will-call window. I gave the lady my id and she gave me an envelope with one ticket in it. "You need a ticket for that baby", she says unflinching. "Oh, no, he doesn't need a seat, he will be on my lap the whole time." I retort. "Doesn't matter. He needs a ticket." She starts typing on her magic ticket machine and informs me that there are not two empty seats next to each other. Quickly, my eyes well up with tears. I had drove several hours, with a toddler, bundled him in a carrier, it was past his bed time, I was overwhelmed, oh, and I was doing this alone. Seeing the panic on my face, a manager took sympathy and wrote me what was essentially a seat pass and let me in.
2. EVERYBODY will have something to say (with their words or actions). My general life motto is fly under the radar, but dadgum if I wasn't a spectacle in that crowd. Inquisitive looks in the lobby were unsettling so I rushed in to auditorium. I took my seat. When my son bumped into the lady next to me, she stood up and switched with the person she came with. Later, when his foot bumped her leg, she picked it up and moved it. Irritation and judgment all over her face. Feeling beaten down, I snuck out before the intermission and stood alone in the lobby to collect my thoughts and debate staying. Not more than five minutes later, the crowds flooded into the lobby. A sweet woman sought me out and tapped my shoulder, "I love that you brought your child. His little happy sounds were great!" she grinned. A few others smiled and made nice comments. I should have been able to revel in them, but I was stuggling to get over the initial experience with my seat neighbor. and the lady at will call.
3. Stuff every pocket with fruit snacks. Fruit snacks are a real treat in our house, even the fruit and veggie kind are limited to every once in a while. When he started to churn and get antsy (and loud), out came the fruit snacks and all silence befell upon us. Mistakenly, I only had one pack, next time, I will have ten.
4. Accept that you will not be comfortable. I had tried holding my son on my lap, but he got squirmy and didn't want to sit still any longer. I put him back in the carrier, but I could not sit down. I creatively tried to lean on things or rest a cheek on the chair rail, but alas, comfort was not mine to have. With my 30 pound babe strapped to my chest, I took my place in the dark eaves of the concert hall, and gave in to the mama sway. For 90 minutes, we swayed, sang, and affirmed my initial motivations in undertaking this challenge- sharing something meaningful with my son, because ever since he was born I have wanted to show him the world and beautiful things it took me nearly 30 years to discover.
5. If you feel like going somewhere, even if it is somewhere that is severely inconvenient with a toddler but going there will restore some part of yourself that may have been unfed since becoming a parent, try it. It may be really hard most of the time, but perhaps you too will leave with a memory of dancing your child to sleep with their little head on your chest as you sing:
Cheers parents! May your children know good music and may your lyrical soul be satisfied.
Lyrics from "Method Acting/Cortez the Killer" by the Dave Rawlings Machine. Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxPTQDP2bRQ
