This weekend my family had grand plans to celebrate my Mom's birthday downtown, going to our favorite spots and letting the kids run around Millennium Park and Buckingham Fountain and all that jazz. I mentioned this to someone at BlogHer last week and they gently reminded me that, um, this weekend is Lollapalooza. Ugh.
Am I officially a granny now? All thirty-one years of me? Sure- if I had tickets and no kids I'd be super excited to attend that huge music fest (hello, Radiohead!) And yeah, they do offer a great option for those with kids at Kidzapalooza. That Perry Farrell is a genius and once, many years ago, I met him and he was super nice and he also wanted to trade pants with me- but that's a story for another time.
Anyway, no matter how great the festival is for everyone else apparently with less gray hairs than me, it does not jive with what I had imagined for my Mom's birthday celebration. Our usual train ride in would surely not be pleasant or provide enough seating most likely. And the crowds. Showing my age again, but I just can't deal with the crowds.
So, our tradition to spend the day in the city is foiled. I will admit that part of me is realizing this blessing in disguise because as I inch closer and closer to having a baby next month, the heat and all that walking would be probably impossible. I'd need a Segway. Would they even rent those to pregnant
grannies ladies? Instead I'll be sulking at the Tweets of all my friends as they rock out this weekend.
P.S. Lollapalooza, you stink.