Phishing for Bliss

I love to curate energy experiences. Even within the mundane it makes me happy...like color sorting freshly washed laundry on a sunny clothesline while listening to Stevie Wonder. So you can imagine my excitement at the chance to bring my girls to a @phish concert at the venue where I heard Crosby, Stills and Nash as a teenager. An observant soul once told me, “Phish is not a concert. It’s a music festival with one band.” A music festival where everyone fits in and is just happy to be there. In all of my excitement and anticipation at sharing the magic of a night under the stars dancing amidst hundreds of ecstatic people I lost sight of one key factor: my 12 year old can’t do concerts.

Expensive ear plugs and abandoned aisle seat for the back of the lawn did nothing to help mitigate her overwhelm. After two songs it was clear: we needed to leave and we needed to leave now.

Crushed, angry, even desperate are the emotions that stomped their way over my parade. I wanted to make her stay. I wanted to lose my shit. And for God’s sake I wanted her to STOP SAYING SORRY.

Not sure if it was the music, the smiley people or the fact that I continue to remind myself that adulting sucks but must happen, I didn’t do any of those things. I told her it was ok, that I was ok and what was most important was taking care of her.

Walking out felt like I’d been kicked out of the best party of the year. “Hey Mom, look at the sky,” my insanely wise girls reminded me. So we sat, and listened and watched The Heavens play along with Trey and his band. And that is really what I wanted for us after all.