The View from the Top of Ferris Wheel, and Why I Love Concerts

Life has been nonstop for the last week or two.  Kind of like when you’re on a ferris wheel and you are a little relieved the ride is almost over as you approach the loading ramp, but instead of stopping, you swoop right by the ramp and keep on turning around and around.  That’s me, sitting in the cart at the top of the wheel, waving, trying not to rock the swing, and trying to enjoy the view.    

So here’s what’s happening in Chez Roussel.

Last week we settled back into the school routine after Spring Break.  I was happy to have some semblance of a routine.  The babies, however, were not happy.  They didn’t nap well all week and were pretty grumpy as a result. 

The weekend came, and with it, a stomach bug for me.  I started feeling queasy.  Then I felt like I was dying.  I rooted around the cupboards until I found some leftover Phenergan from my pregnancy with the triplets.  I felt pretty awful.  By Saturday afternoon, I was determined to rally for the Mumford and Sons concert on Saturday night, but we still had to get through a busy Saturday afternoon.

The weather was beautiful, so we decided to all venture downtown for the Baton Rouge blues festival.  Getting out the door with all six is a labor of love; there’s the shoes, the diapers, the wipes, the sippy cups, the wagon, etc.  But, the group was restless so we needed to bust of out the house.  We made it downtown without any hassle, and I parallel parked our new van close by.  (Still feeling proud about that, by the way.  Maybe I can have a second career as a bus driver.  Or a driving instructor.) 

We walked around the festival enjoying the music and the great weather, though I had forgotten how much attention we attract when out with the triplets and the big girls.  I watched as people stared and whispered or happily yelled out, TRIPLETS?!  The big kids are used to the attention at this point and are unfazed by it.  I usually just smile and keep walking, because it takes a lot of time and energy to stop and talk each time someone wants to talk.  The big kids enjoyed the music and the babies enjoyed the different sights and sounds. 

Saturday night came, and it was time to get ready for the Mumford concert.  I was tired.  I had been thrown up on (by Ruby).  I still felt a little queasy myself.  And I was dreading a long solo day of parenting on Sunday because Seth had to work.  But we already had our tickets and a sitter, so we decided we should drag our tired selves out.    

I’m so glad we did.

The last time I saw Mumford was three kids ago, in 2013—before the triplets, before life got crazier, and way before we knew what our days would look like in 2016.  Yet here we were, three years and three kids later, once again driving down to New Orleans to see them play.  Seth and I talked and laughed on the way down.  We wondered when things would slow down for us (never, we decided).  We got to the stadium and met up with some friends and my sister and her husband.  We had some really overpriced, flavorless beer.  And then the lights went dark for the concert.   

And Marcus Mumford’s strong, passionate voice started singing.  I can’t remember what songs they sang or in what order, but I was loving it.  About halfway through the concert, my sister and I got up from seats and went down to the field to get closer and dance.  I looked around at the young, hip 20-somethings and could smell pot wafting all around me, and I felt a little old.  But then I shrugged to myself (in my “mom” cardigan, no less) and thought, who the hell cares. So we danced and laughed.  And I belted out all of the lyrics along with Marcus Mumford.  And it felt so good to feel like myself.  Chrissy Roussel.  Not “Lucy’s mom,” or “Molly’s mom,” or “the lady with the six girls including surprise triplet girls.”  And it was wonderful, all of it—the singing, the dancing, the being present in that moment and feeling the music.  All too soon, though, the concert was over and it was time to head home.   

Seth drove us home and I thought about the lyrics to my favorite Mumford song, Whispers in the Dark, which they didn’t play.  The music slowly builds throughout the song until the end when they say: “And I lost my head, let’s live while we are young / While we are young / While we are young. . . .”  He sings it almost imploringly, pleading with you to live while you are young.  I always think about those lyrics because I feel young, even though I’m really not young any more at 38.  I’m someone’s mom.  I’m six girls’ mom, to be exact.  But, on nights like that one, I feel like my 20-something self again, with nothing to worry about but singing and dancing, living in the moment, and just having fun.    

And that is precisely why I just bought awesome tickets (17^th row!) to see Coldplay.  Seth doesn’t understand.  That’s ok.  I know I need to go.  The last time I saw them was five kids ago, and, it’s time.  I need to sing and dance.  And be Chrissy Roussel for an hour or two.   

Til next time, friends, I’ll sit here perched on the ferris wheel while it keeps on turning and turning.  And I’ll try to pause and enjoy the view.  Because when I do look up and take the time to enjoy it, I notice how beautiful it really is.  

Mumford with my sister, Maryellen (I know, we look nothing alike, right?)

Blues festing with the six pack! 

Fun downtown at Blues Fest with these silly girls.