Motherhood has softened me. Last night, I went to see Bon Jovi for the first time at Nassau Colliseum with Lady Rams. This was my first official night out since having Emily. It was also the first time I have worn pants with a button since September-ish. I was taken by surprise when I went to pull my pants down a la elastic style and they wouldn't budge. I was also taken a bit by surprise when my parents told me it was about time I threw on some pants that didn't have the word "sweat" preceding the word pants. It is too bad I didn’t have on sweat pants. The Coliseum was, to quote Lady Ram, Mahoney, "hot as Haiti!" I could have used my sexy sweats to absorb the sweat and to ease my climb to the top of the stadium in a way that my temporary big girl jeans could not do.
Why so freakin hot? The theory is that Jon B.J. must like it hot so that his pipes are at peak performance. This theory finds its roots in the one other experience I had at MSG to see Celine Dion (I like her, shut up....it's the power ballads). I am known around these parts to procure the worst tickets at the best prices for concerts and plays. So, for Celine, it should come as no surprise that I bought tickets along the last row of MSG, just to the right of the hot dog stand. Between the sweat and smell of Oscar Meyer, it made for an interesting sensory experience. Apparently, Celine, the diva she is, required there to be no air conditioning on so that her vocal cords gave the audience the best bang for their buck. Jon, too, must be a diva. My knight, present for both of these musical experiences, reminded me of this.
Let's return to last night. We arrived at the concert just in time for Bon Jovi to take to the stage. We easily found our section and began the trek up to row S. It is important to note that week five of no gym has begun to loosen up my muscles. I decided yesterday would be a great day to try a kettle bell workout. For those of you unfamiliar with what I currently consider to be the equivalent to water board torture, the movements are based on one's core and legs. Having been benched by child birth and wholehearted devotion to both my couch and watching reruns on Bravo with my infant, I must say, I threw my body into shock. Last night, walking up 467 steps did not help. As we ascended the stairs, the air grew warmer and considerably more tainted by stale cigarette smoke left behind from the days when smoking indoors was not considered taboo. Thank God I did not blow out my hair; it would have been curly halfway into the opening song. Dripping with sweat, we approach our seats. After joking about how no one could possibly be in them considering they were AWFUL, there were people in them. Of course, I have to solve the problem since it was seat 7, my seat. Now, ordinarily, I would have been totally obnoxious. I mean, my ticket clearly proved this woman was in my seat and hers proved she was not in her own seat. No argument, right? Not to mention, her seats were in the row in front of us..one row closer to Bon Jovi's breath!! Her argument: the usher brought them there. Rather than get all nuts, I said the usher must have been confused. She kept saying the usher this, the usher that. I continued to blame him and showed her my ticket. FINALLY, she apologized and scooted with her husband to the row ahead of us. The non-mom me would have told her to get the F out of our seats. Why was she still going on about this?? It was 97 degrees and my friends and I were literally on top of each other with expanding hair (totally Jersey in the 80s). My theory behind my calm behavior was I had facts to back up my claim AND, I do not want to be Emily's psycho mother. I had the foresight to think about the fact that a person can now say; "This is how you act, a mother??" Crap---I am growing up.
