‘Spontaneous Susan’

So my “sassy” morphed into “spontaneous” last week as I decided to take my eight year old to a mid-week concert that I had debated about for a few weeks.

Spontaneous used to be my middle name, pre-parenthood that is. Living the “free life,” it used to be nothing for me to decide on a Friday morning that I would visit my bestie in Tallahassee later that evening after work. She was always up for it as she was depressed when her husband was dying a slow death from cancer and after his demise she was often depressed and lonely. Thus a spontaneous visit from me always perked her up.

Parenthood slowed that type of spontaneity for me but I have found other ways to interject it into all of our lives. Consistency and structure are needed when rearing the young but I encourage them as well to let a few wild hairs be free.

Back to last week, as I said there had been thoughts of taking my son to the Khalid concert at State Farm Arena last Wednesday. Last month, I took my brood to a TLC, Flo Rida & Nelly amphitheatre concert initially meant for an “adult only” outing but didn’t wind up that way. It was actually their first concert ever and they enjoyed it thoroughly although the performers were not of their generation, but they listen to what mommy, daddy, and grandma often listen to which makes them well-versed in music across the generations.

My son is likely the most well-versed eight-year-old out there in terms of music culture. He listens to everything from Johnny Be Good to Friends in Low Places to Bad Guy to God’s Plan. He always the one in the car pushing the scan button for something he wants to hear and the one yelling ”turn that up mom!”

Since last month’s concert when he got to high five Flo Rida up close and personal, he’s been on the concert band wagon and so have I. Concerts are cool but there are not many performers that I’ll pay premium prices for in an arena atmosphere, actually only three and one is now deceased.

After a semi-tumultuous second grade year, I thought that maybe a fall concert might be a good tone setter for him. I started looking for artists he might like and I stumbled upon Khalid, a young fresh, artist who writes and sings ballads and upbeat tempos and Post Malone, also a young musician who is further along on the appropriateness spectrum for my eight year old but makes great tunes for bobbing your head.

After checking dates and prices, Post Malone became less of a reality ‘cause mommy was paying those prices for anyone out of the realm of her three. Khalid tickets for two were half the price but I still wasn’t sold—it was mid-week meaning a school night, Atlanta traffic would be an issue, and it likely meant a slow Thursday morning start. Thus I abandoned the idea two weeks prior to the gig.

So rewind to last Wednesday, as I was driving from work to pick up my kiddos from school I heard my favorite afternoon disc jockey broadcast a ticket alert that Khalid tickets had just been lowered to $29.95 while supplies lasted for the event that was to begin in five hours. I got excited at that moment and thought for that price including convenience fees, which are anything but convenient, I could take them both.

So arriving at my destination, I parked, waited on them to arrive, and hopped on my phone in search of tickets which were indeed discounted. I then began making plans in my head as how to tackle homework—Robyn first as hers is more involved and Jacob last as he whizzes through his anyway. I decided MARTA was smarter at this point and for a 7 p.m. start we needed to be on the transit no later than 6:30 p.m. as it was o.k. to miss a bit of the opening act which I hadn’t heard of anyway.

Once the kids were in the car, we had our usual pleasantries—how was your day?, anything specific I need to know?, etc. I then asked them if they wanted to go to the concert in about four hours. There was marked glee from Jacob and a dry “sure” and shrug from my eldest. She had little interest because after all it was not Ariana Grande, whom she would like to see November but I don’t see it happening with those beyond Post Malone prices. So we made plans without her, just a spontaneous mommy and son outing.

Once home I purchased two tickets on the lower level (which were just $10 bucks more than the cheaper upper level seats), we did homework, I made a quick dinner, and prepared for the evening with comfy walking shoes and attire for us both. When we boarded MARTA, there were lots of soccer fans headed to Mercedes Benz Stadium next door to our venue so I knew the crowds would be abundant. We’ve traveled in huge crowds before so I just reminded him of the rules—stay close, always keep one hand and one eye on my person, and if we get separated scream my full name not mommy.

All was going well, traffic to the MARTA station was brisk, the ride itself smooth as Jacob marveled at the graffiti and murals. It was a mob rush to get up to the street level for the events with soccer fans and concert goers all headed the same way. As I pulled up my digital tickets I saw a gate keeper eying my backpack, she asked me to lie it on a table that had a measurement outline. Though my bag was clearly within the limits, she said it was close and called over the manager.

He explained in his English accent that these measures are for everyones’ safety (flashback to the Ariana Manchester concert) and that I could check my bag in at the tent located around the corner. I did for a fee of $5, which he didn’t mention, as they gave me a plastic see-thru bag for items I wished to take with me (which were most things in my backpack.) As we headed back through the gates, the gatekeeper gave me a nod and said “sorry but enjoy the concert.”

We hit the restroom first and then headed to our seats, which were perfect for us—affordable with a great view that was close enough to see his lips actually moving. The opening act was on and the seats were slowly filling with mostly groups of tween and teenage girls accompanied by a guardian or two. As they piled in with their crop tops and short shorts I felt less bad about having my eight year old out on a school night. As we waited on the main attraction, Jacob looked around stadium checking out the Hawks banners and the group with floor seats accumulating. He asked me why would anyone want to stand the whole concert. I told him floor seats were for super fans who had lots of energy but no backstage passes. During the change of sets for the main act we grabbed some snacks which were reasonably priced but not that tasty.

As Khalid took the stage the crowd went wild and the energy upgraded. I enjoyed the concert more than I thought I might. He is an artist who gives a great show of vocals with an emotional though not physical performance. His vocals were like waterfalls—fascinating with a wide range and a bit of an edge. He had slimmed down some since his first worldwide appearance a few years ago on the Grammys as a featured rising star. He now reminds me of a young, male version one of my three, Sade— laid back, soul baring, without pretention, true to self, and free spirited which is why his tour might be aptly named The Free Spirit Tour.

For the songs my son knew like Talk and Location from radio and television, he was on his feet singing and dancing like the rest of the audience rocking the stadium literally. For the songs not so familiar to him he sat exchanging his gazes between the crowd and the stage taking it all in. In those moments, I was glad that I decided to take the dive, be spontaneous, and head to the concert.

In raising children and being a child once, I know it is important for kids to see themselves in others who chase and live their dreams that’s especially true for young, black children. I don’t think my son has ideas of being a stage entertainer but it nice for him to know that he can attain it because he’s seen a young black kid born in Fort Stewart, Ga. live out his wildest dreams as a free spirit on stage which could only help to inspire him to follow his own path.