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Abstract

l participation. Which parent would drive the gang of teens down? Would cough up $500 USD for a concert ticket, foot the bill for two hotel rooms, and all that food.M texted me, “Wanna drive me and some friends to see the Stones?”The Stones. Even though my son is now 22 and lives on the opposite side of the continent, I felt that same anxiety in my chest as I had 21 years ago.My reply was a quick, “Thanks for asking me, but no.”His mom and dad were just as quick with their answers, “Hell, yeah!”And so, an event that my husband will no-doubt remember as one of the best concerts ever—the one Super Band he's not yet seen and his kid’s first concert— this will be yet another memory he shares with his ex-wife and not me.A few friends think I’m crazy to not be part of this experience, “to let Dave go with Laura.”Here’s the thing, when Dave and I first started dating, my son was ten-years-old and his was five. Dave was the first man I dated who had a child and it was really important to me that if our relationship got serious, that our kids would always come first. I made that criteria and was 100% clear that if Dave ever had to choose between me and M, I would never, ever expect him to choose me.And, I told him I needed the same in return.We’ve been together twelve years and have managed this part of our relationship perfectly. Not one drama over the hundreds of times Dave picked a movie, a restaurant or a hike that M wanted to do, leaving me to

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decide to stay home or participate in something I wasn’t interested in. Not one drama over the thousands of dollars I’ve sent to my kid that could have been used for us to go on a much-needed holiday.Okay, almost perfectly. There was a short period of time when I found it hard to be part of the Christmas traditions that Dave shared with his ex-wife every December 24. I suspect she may have felt the same way about the dinner she came to the next day to celebrate my family’s traditions. But we put on smiles and kept our alcohol consumption to a minimum to avoid drama.Kids come first.As much as I am an integral part of M’s life, having this first-concert experience with his best friends and both his mom and his dad is something I know is going to be extra-special to all of them.I also know that my quieter energy, my discomfort in crowds, my garlic allergy that makes eating in restaurants a serious pain in the ass… all of that would muddy the main event. Comprises will be avoided if I stay home.I often say that I won the step-child lottery when I met Dave. I love M as much as my own kid and I feel like the most loving way I can help him experience his first concert is by letting my husband spend the night with his ex-wife—and Mick Jagger.All I want in return are a couple of good stories from them.Oh, and that the Universe not schedule an earthquake in Seattle on May 22nd. Seriously, 72,000 people crammed into one space? Not going there. Not even for Mick.</article></body>

Why my husband is spending the night with his ex-wife—and Mick Jagger

And why it’s the right thing to do

I had a panic attack at a Rolling Stones concert in January 1998. I was in the second row, right at the foot of the stage. Best seats in the house. Until my mind wondered, What would happen if tonight there was an earthquake?

And then it answered itself, I’d most certainly be crushed, if not by concrete, by the 54,500 other concert goers in a panicked stampede.

I had an 18-month-old son at home. I wanted to see him grow up. And so, during their then-new song, Flip the Switch, I pushed my way through the throngs and into the safe, open streets of Vancouver. I survived certain death.

Ridiculous? Not to me. I never regretted missing the concert, even when my six work colleagues came in the next day raving about the show.

Flash-forward 21 years. The Stones are playing in Seattle in May. My 17-year-old step-son, M, is a huge fan and decided, along with three friends, that it was worth spending $500 USD of their minimum-wage earned and saved money to see the band.

The only problem is that getting to Seattle requires parental participation. Which parent would drive the gang of teens down? Would cough up $500 USD for a concert ticket, foot the bill for two hotel rooms, and all that food.

M texted me, “Wanna drive me and some friends to see the Stones?”

The Stones. Even though my son is now 22 and lives on the opposite side of the continent, I felt that same anxiety in my chest as I had 21 years ago.

My reply was a quick, “Thanks for asking me, but no.”

His mom and dad were just as quick with their answers, “Hell, yeah!”

And so, an event that my husband will no-doubt remember as one of the best concerts ever—the one Super Band he's not yet seen and his kid’s first concert— this will be yet another memory he shares with his ex-wife and not me.

A few friends think I’m crazy to not be part of this experience, “to let Dave go with Laura.”

Here’s the thing, when Dave and I first started dating, my son was ten-years-old and his was five. Dave was the first man I dated who had a child and it was really important to me that if our relationship got serious, that our kids would always come first. I made that criteria and was 100% clear that if Dave ever had to choose between me and M, I would never, ever expect him to choose me.

And, I told him I needed the same in return.

We’ve been together twelve years and have managed this part of our relationship perfectly. Not one drama over the hundreds of times Dave picked a movie, a restaurant or a hike that M wanted to do, leaving me to decide to stay home or participate in something I wasn’t interested in. Not one drama over the thousands of dollars I’ve sent to my kid that could have been used for us to go on a much-needed holiday.

Okay, almost perfectly. There was a short period of time when I found it hard to be part of the Christmas traditions that Dave shared with his ex-wife every December 24. I suspect she may have felt the same way about the dinner she came to the next day to celebrate my family’s traditions. But we put on smiles and kept our alcohol consumption to a minimum to avoid drama.

Kids come first.

As much as I am an integral part of M’s life, having this first-concert experience with his best friends and both his mom and his dad is something I know is going to be extra-special to all of them.

I also know that my quieter energy, my discomfort in crowds, my garlic allergy that makes eating in restaurants a serious pain in the ass… all of that would muddy the main event. Comprises will be avoided if I stay home.

I often say that I won the step-child lottery when I met Dave. I love M as much as my own kid and I feel like the most loving way I can help him experience his first concert is by letting my husband spend the night with his ex-wife—and Mick Jagger.

All I want in return are a couple of good stories from them.

Oh, and that the Universe not schedule an earthquake in Seattle on May 22nd. Seriously, 72,000 people crammed into one space? Not going there. Not even for Mick.