So here I am at a concert I would have rather taken a pass for, but whatever, it was important to my husband to see Sarah McLachlan despite her heyday peaking about 20 years ago, when I first saw her live. We arrived via shuttle because the parking was fuller than full and we were directed into the overflow. This evening was taking place outdoors at a well know winery a fair distance from any sort of modern convenience outside of those found in a warehouse district, which really is none, unless you are in search of wine or a patch of grass to rest and pass the time. But here I am, on the shuttle if nothing else, excited to enjoy a glass of wine outdoors without my littles running around asking me a question every minute and a half. After a short ride, we exit the bus and trek the rest of the way on foot. It seems that when planning an outdoor concert at a winery, it is necessary to block all entrances but one to ensure that middle age patrons don’t “sneak in” without a ticket and get in their allotted steps for FitBit tracking. But again, my sights are set on the wine and casual atmosphere so I am trying to not let the minor annoyances ruin it for me. When you’re a parent, a night out is hard to come by.

Once we have been herded in with the masses and a mere, I don’t know, maybe 2 people checking tickets, (really!?), we head for the wine and snacks line, which miraculously is already VERY long. What the hell time did these folks arrive? Anyway, given it was going to be awhile before we got to the front, I decided to take a potty break because who knew how long THOSE lines were, right? I head against the traffic in the general direction I assume the restrooms would be and then I see it. Honey Buckets. And yes, there was already a line. Great! What girl doesn’t love using a porta-potty? They are always so sanitary and consistently smell of freshly washed laundry. However, I remind myself for the umpteenth time, it’s a night OUT, enjoy it. Finally, it’s my turn and well, I got a lovely surprise in the Honey Bucket at the Sarah McLachlan concert. My period. What!? Yes, now normally this would not be a sneak up and gotcha sort of affair, right? I mean, any half- witted female with a regular cycle has some idea of when to expect the arrival, but did I mention I was still breast feeding my 6 month old? No? Well, yes, so at the exact moment of squatting over the dark, disgusting abyss of poo water, I get my period for the first time in 16 months. Well, step right up, folks, because there are no quarter eating machines adhered to the walls of this box to dispense any product to deal with this hand I had been dealt. So I rifle though my handbag for something, ANYTHING to help me out and the only thing outside of a packet of half eaten raisins, a crumpled up tissue, drivers’ license and credit card is my son’s size 2 Cookie Monster diaper. Yep, I’m wearing a diaper to an outdoor concert.

With my diaper on, I go to report the fun news to my husband. We looked around to see if by some miracle there would be someone I could approach for help, but as I scanned the crowd I suddenly feel as if I am at a Neal Diamond concert because it is a sea of grey hair and thick ankles. Seriously? Is this a joke? Are we the only people here younger than our parents? It was like being on a cruise that lasts longer than 7 days, with the hov-arounds parked outside the dinner buffet at 5pm. Sadly, there was no changing my “situation.”

The moral of this story is that being a parent is full of work arounds and new tricks.  Rolling with the punches is crucial for survival. That night I had fun, drinking wine, listening to music, enjoying a lovely night, outdoors in the Pacific Northwest wearing a size 2 Cookie Monster diaper.