Not a Mom for an Evening

I will never claim to having a night life or being the life of a party, however I have always enjoyed a good music concert. Probably my favorite performers have been Ye Lo Tango and The Avett Brothers. Apart from the Dave Matthews Band I have been to mostly smaller venue concerts, which I love all the more. The smaller halls are intimate and adoring. Usually the attendees are there for their love of the musicians, not merely the social buzz.

Finally, after two years I was rewarded with the role of me. I was not mom or a wet nurse. I was Spring going out to enjoy herself without the worry of a small one crying for her mother. Yes, I have been out on short dates with my husband, but I usually returned to a very frantic hungry baby and breasts ready to explode from engorgement.

For this evening my daughter was left in the care of my parents who were eager to entertain. I headed downtown where music filled the air and crowds bustled with conversation, like adults do. Accompanied with my sister and two cousins I enjoyed the night life of coffee houses, beer, vegan food (sweet potato chili because nothing else sounded good), fantastic music, and lovely company.

Jose Gonzalez was the entertainer. Mercy Lounge was the venue. A Swed with Argentinian parents makes for an interesting accent but beautifully sweet music. There I stood in my very "non-mom" apparel swaying to the harmony of Jose lost in darkness, lost in thought. His acoustic guitar airy with melodic picks supported by the demanding rhythm of his meter. I did not worry about my daughter going hungry. My shirt did not have wet marks from leaking. I did not ponder how to improve my daughter's development. I did not consume myself with dread at returning to an angry tired baby. I thought about love. I thought about regret. I thought about the future. I thought about the past. I thought about the notes. I thought about the words. In my mind the whole event was just for me and I soaked in every melody as a rewarding gift.

Throughout the evening I received updates and photos that my daughter was doing well. I could breathe knowing I was not missed. I was able to appreciate my companions offering my undivided attention, never once being interrupted in mid-sentence. I never felt detached or rude. How many times in the last few months have I had to excuse myself to address a crying child? I had meaningful conversation with my full attention provided. I stayed out late and actually felt the buzz of my beer. As soon as I returned home I eagerly checked on my baby who was contentedly sleeping. Her little eyes beautifully at rest.

By no means am I complaining. I cannot imagine a world without my daughter. Yet, it was refreshing to be reunited with an old self reminded she still exists. Maybe not suppressed, but quiet and patiently waiting.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4nC8WjPFnGU