Friday, April 8, 2016

Back Where I Come From

I had a life before Claire.  And in my prior life, I went to see Kenny Chesney in concert every year.  A couple of times with my bff Chris, and when she moved away, with DP.  Once or twice, when Chesney stopped playing big arenas and moved over to the more intimate Joint at the Hard Rock, I went by myself.  It was like my thing, his music always just spoke to me.  Anyway so when my father-in-law got a gig cooking food at the ACM Party (a Country Music Festival) and asked if I wanted a pass, I said, "Hell yeah!"  When I checked the line-up and saw Kenny was headlining, I admit to getting a little choked up.  I was taking my daughter to see Kenny Freaking Chesney! 

Even DP wanted in on this.  We do so much for our kid(s) and take them to cool things that we think they'd like, and are always doing stuff with them in mind.  But this was one of those rare opportunities that I could take Claire to something that I love.  Something that the family was going to because of me.  It was cool.  I kept saying to him that I regret not being able to take Claire to see Michael Jackson (he passed before she was born) but man, taking her to Kenny was pretty high up there.

I wish I got better pictures because Claire and I were in matching teal and hot pink dresses.  But it was late and getting dark by the time we got there.


DP and my in-laws settled in a spot on the grass area with our lawn-chairs and I took Claire up to the stage with me.   She ended up falling asleep on me during the first few songs of the show and I don't blame her, it was really late for us and she'd tried her best.  My sweetheart didn't complain once.  So I ended up taking her back to our group and settled her in her stroller, then went back by the stage.  I could get up even closer than I had with her, without worrying about other people worrying about me carrying my baby so close to the music.  Wearing camo doesn't mean I can't see your stupid judgy face, assholes.  Here are videos of two of my favourite songs.


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