Tomorrow after school, Roan and Anson are heading up to the Solid Sound Festival at Mass MOcA. They’re headed there with our good friend Ajay and his son Sachin. So, what I’m saying is that these kids are going to a weekend music festival that the fathers have planned and will be executing, without much help from the mothers. It’s an awesome event – the festival features great performers: Wilco, Thurston Moore from Sonic Youth, the Story Pirates and a bazllion other acts. There will be camping out, and sleeping in bags. There will be eating from nameless food vendors and playing in crowds. There will be the negotiating of different shifts as the adults decide who gets to go watch the late-night performances, and who gets to watch over the wee young sleeping (hopefully) lads.
I mean, what could go wrong? (Don’t answer that Don’t answer that Don’t answer that)
I do believe everything will be extraordinarily mind-bendingly memorable for everyone involved. This will likely be a weekend that Roan talks about to his future people, about how cool his pops was. And I also believe that I have figured out exactly every single way things could go wrong. I have figured these things out because I am a crazy lady who cannot control her own mind entirely. Or even very much at all. Yet I am happy to let these boys go because even in my land of cuckoo and worry, I know that Anson would sooner cut off all of his limbs than let any harm come to our boy. So certainly he will be protected.
This does not mean I am not sending a first-aid kit. I am sending a first-aid kit. And flashlights. Also a bag in case Roan gets carsick. And a whistle. Also considering sending my phone with Roan in case he gets separated from his dad. And possibly writing our address and phone number with a Sharpie on his forehead. And looking into under-the-skin GPS chip placement technology.
Oh for the love of all that is holy. The good news is that since the Tiny Twin Masters go to bed at 6:30 (*ahem* yay for sleep training…not to start a fight or anything…but YAY in the most emphatic way) eh…since they’re down for the night at 6:30, I actually will have what resembles some “time to myself”. I have heard about this phenomenon, and seen it on TV, but for the life of me cannot remember exactly what it means. Hmmm….”Time To Myself”, by Jodi Nelson Call.
Sounds like a work of fiction.
I’ll let you know how it goes. Hopefully it won’t be spent perseverating about if Roan is collecting ticks on his butt, or if Anson will remember that not all concert going experiences are enriching for seven-year-old boys. No no no I won’t spend it thinking on these things. I don’t know what I will do with my stolen few hours but I do know I am looking forward to them.
I’m happy to take suggestions. What would you do if you had two nights where you could be at home uninterrupted by child-rearing stuffs? Movies? Reading? Hanging in the back yard? Cleaning? Organizing? Worrying?