I’m going to openly admit this to you dear readers; I have strong stereotypes of what happens at Bonnaroo. Mostly, have to admit because of media stories over the years.
This is why when my beloved husband decided to go in halves with our newly graduated son to attend this year’s music festival, yours truly did not handle it very well.
My hubby loves music and while I do agree this year’s line-up is great, it’s simply nerve racking for me to think of my son and his friends camping out for four days.
Now you do have to understand something about me. I’m a “prissy but,” went camping when I graduated from high school and took my tackle box (what my friends affectionately called it) full of makeup and girl stuff with me. Simply thinking of being at a campsite for four days with no shower makes my skin crawl.
And, because the apple did not fall far from the tree, my little Brentwood brat (sorry son, but it’s true) is right there with me. We went to Target to purchase items for the trip. Again the hubby just stared at me, “Target? He needs to go to Academy, Dick’s or even Wal Mart for supplies.”
No dear, we are going to Target. Where I purchased water as if there was going to be a drought coming upon the world over the next few days. I don’t want him getting dehydrated was my explanation.
Then we headed to the sunscreen aisle, purchased face wipes, baby wipes, bug spray, dry shampoo and body spray, and do you think I have enough water?
Then next was the trip to REI in Brentwood because I was worried about his feet so we had to go buy Chacos. Just had to have them. Don’t you dare complain to me husband of mine about the money spent, you bought the ticket without me. Boom, that’s how this works.
If your reading this thinking ‘is this woman for real?’ Um, yes and it gets worse. Sigh.
Because my husband likes to camp, he was all in for this trip and pulled out the tent, camp lights, charcoal grill, you name it, my man is prepared for manly adventures.
Oh, and I do not go camping by the way. For the past probably 12 years he has taken our children on a summer camping trip where I stay home, enjoy my air conditioning and eat what I want to eat without opinions from the fab four. I do not look at any photos of these trips because one year when our youngest was probably five they sent me a picture of my child cliff diving . What Mama doesn’t know sometimes, is simply better. Just a side note.
Back to the real story—as I watched my husband show our son how to put up the tent my darling son started to complain about the heat. ‘This is awful, and the bugs’…does he hear himself?
Last night, as we settled into bed and I asked my husband to pray with me for the safety of our son because he was headed into a world of sin (told you I’m ridiculous), my husband took my hand and lovingly said, “Don’t worry honey. I’m giving this 24-48 before my phone rings to go pick him up.”
More Jodi in the Bubble
