As I stood in the muggy air with my kids, waiting for the band to hit the stage, I could hardly contain my excitement. We were at a family-friendly music festival, and I was thrilled to see a cover band that I had adored since my college days. Not only was I eager to relive my youth, but I was also looking forward to sharing this live music experience with my kids. At ages 10 and 13, they were just the right age to join my husband and me as we met friends downtown for the concert. Plus, they had never seen “concert Mom” in action, and I was ready to give them a show.
As the humidity clung to my skin and the crowd surged forward, I couldn’t help but think about how long I had waited for a night like this. No strollers, no toddlers with strict bedtimes, and no baby food to pack meant a whole new world had opened up for us. It felt liberating to take our kids to a concert. I glanced at my son, his acne-sprinkled face glowing with anticipation, and smiled at him. My daughter was on my other side, practically bouncing with excitement despite being blocked from seeing the stage by the taller folks in front of her.
When the band started playing, my kids were immediately captivated, especially my daughter. I attempted to boost her up on my hip so she could catch a better view, but the tight crowd made it tricky. Then I spotted a small gap right next to the stage—a perfect vantage point for my petite 10-year-old. We edged our way forward, and as soon as we reached it, I let her squeeze in front. I stayed a couple of people back to be courteous, keeping my eyes on her as the stage lights highlighted her hair.
Her face lit up like a firework when the lead singer acknowledged her. She was mesmerized watching the drummer, and her infectious enthusiasm was a joy to witness. Just as she turned to give me a thumbs up and a beaming smile, I reached for my phone to capture this moment.
But before I could take the shot, a woman suddenly thrust her hand in front of my phone. “Is that your little girl?” she shouted over the music. When I confirmed, she launched into a tirade about how my daughter was a nuisance. “This is no place for a child!” she yelled, her face flushed with anger. “I didn’t come here with my adult kids to have my night ruined by your little kid!”
I stood there, dumbfounded in the sweltering heat as Bon Jovi faded into the background. Not wanting to escalate the situation, I reached past her and pulled my daughter back to where my husband and son were standing. The rest of the night, I simmered with anger at the woman’s blatant rudeness and utter lack of understanding for a small child.
When you have older kids, it’s easy to forget the challenges of raising little ones. The days of diapers and strollers are long gone, and I’m often reminded of how far we’ve come in 13 years. While I’m grateful I’m no longer the mom battling a toddler tantrum in aisle four, I made a promise to always show compassion to mothers wrestling with young kids.
I will always let a mom with a toddler and a newborn use the bathroom stall before me. I can wait. A 3-year-old can’t.
I will always offer to help a mother load her car or hold her baby while managing a meltdown from her toddler. I’ll look into her weary eyes and say, “I’ve been there.”
I’m always ready to assist my friends with young children at their dentist or gynecologist appointments. Nobody wants a 2-year-old peering in during a check-up.
I will always keep a stash of juice boxes and goldfish crackers for the mom friend who forgets her diaper bag. Unfortunately, I can’t bring a high chair. Sorry, friend.
I will never forget what it was like to be criticized by an annoyed mother who has clearly forgotten that her college-aged kids were once 10-year-olds who struggled to see over a crowd.
And when I become the older mom at a concert, I’ll be the first to offer my shoulders so a young child can see the band up close.
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In summary, it’s easy to lose sight of the challenges that come with raising little kids once you’ve moved past that stage. It’s essential to maintain empathy for parents currently navigating the chaos, and to lend a helping hand whenever possible.