This past week Youngest Kid decided she wanted to go to a
concert in Boston on Friday night with a friend. Originally she thought she
would drive. That got nipped in the bud very quickly on our end. Fortunately we
had a little reinforcement when Oldest Kid’s best friend who was visiting and
happened to mention that she would rather drive in New York than in Boston.
It’s always a huge help when someone much closer to your child’s age can affirm
a point you’re trying to make that was met with complete and utter dismissal
because you are a dinosaur.
The plan then changed to driving part of the way and
catching the subway into Boston. The idea of these two girls trying to find
their way around the subway system (by the way, Government Center – the hub –
is closed for 2 years for construction. Great.) and then driving back and not
arriving home until who-knows-when was just a little too much for me to handle.
My mind started spinning, along with my stomach. I wanted so
very much to let them figure it out on their own, but not like this, and not
when I knew I’d be insane until they got home sometime in the middle of the
night.
So here’s how yesterday’s events unfolded, via text
messaging with my very understanding and relenting spouse:
Me: So… how do you feel about driving to Boston?
Him: Um… why?
Me: Why not. I am really having angst over them doing this
on a Friday night.
Him: Does she know about this?
Me: No but trust me, she will be ecstatic. We could drop
them off, find a place to park and do whatever… eat, walk around…
Him: (knowing this wasn’t even worth arguing about) Sure.
Me: It would be 2 less hours I am having anxiety over where
they are.
Him: (in typical guy fashion) And that could be worth a LOT
to me…
Me: (do they even try
to disguise what they’re thinking?) Oh yes, I will owe you.
Him: Always wanted to drive to Boston on a Friday night.
Me: Well now you can cross that off your bucket list.
I should mention that the last time Youngest Kid went to a
concert at the same Boston venue it started at 8 p.m. and was over in less than
an hour, and she and her friends had to wait around for more than two hours
while the parents of one of the friends were at another event. They passed the
time wandering through a nearby Rite-Aid and then loitering around Dunkin
Donuts where the staff was less than cordial. Fortunately it wasn’t too sketchy
of an area.
The concert this past Friday night also started at 8, so I
was sure we’d be back on the road by maybe 9:30 at the latest. Yeah… no. The
first act came onto the stage twenty minutes late. The headliner finished up at
11 p.m. Guess who spent three
hours last night walking up and down streets in the neighborhood only to end up
loitering around the same Dunkin Donuts?
I should probably mention that Spouse and I are typically
sacked out on the sofa by 9:30 at the latest on a Friday night, being that we
wake up starting at 5 a.m. for work all week. This was way beyond our bedtime,
and I knew Blind Dog and Demanding Cats would have no mercy by 7 this morning.
Some of you might think it was too much mothering to take
this trip. Others might be mumbling that the concert never should have been an
option. It’s a call that’s not easy to make sometimes, and I can’t honestly
tell you I felt it was the right thing to do either way. This is just how these
things go when you’re a parent – you wing it and hope you’re making the right
choice for yourself as well as your kids.
I can tell you my almost-20-year-old was more than okay with it – in fact, after
stressing herself out about wanting to be excited but feeling nervous and a
little overwhelmed about the whole thing, she was just as happy about it as I
thought she would be – and extremely thankful.
If we hadn’t done it this way they probably wouldn’t have
made it to the concert until long after it started, and they most likely would
have been facing a two-hour drive home well after midnight. And guess who would have been awake all
night in a panic?
Naturally I was the one the animals woke up this morning,
because everyone else in this house is sleeping like a rock. That’s fine, I can
sit in our backyard and sip my coffee and enjoy the peace and quiet for a
while. And I can start figuring out how to pay off my debt to the Spouse for
going along with me (as if he had a choice).
I can pretty much guarantee it won’t involve loitering
around Dunkin Donuts.
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