I took my daughter to a concert this week.

To see Demi Lovato. As well as Christina Perri, Becky G and MKTO. I don’t remember ever seeing three opening acts back in my day. Of course, I don’t remember anyone exiting through the floor either so maybe I just wasn’t paying attention.

Yes, I know. I’m supposed to pretend like I just hated it. Because it was …

“Too Loud!”

OR

“Kids today have no idea what REAL music is all about!!”

OR

“The STUPID GIRL rockin’ out behind me elbowed me in the skull like 37 times!!!“

Whatever, stupid girl.  Because, if I’m being honest, I loved it. The whole thing. Of course, going to concerts was a huge rite of passage for me as a young person. I started going as early as age 12 and, until recently, I still had all my old ticket stubs, programs and even a few t-shirts. (Thanks again for that, Hurricane Katrina). Most of my memorabilia is all gone now, literally washed away. But … no act of God can take away my memories, which all came flooding back as I sat in that arena this week blaring out my eardrums and scream-singing to the music. Some things never change.

Then again, others really … really do.

What was the best part of the concert you ask? Easy. When Viv turned to me at a quieter moment in the show, smiled and said “I’m really glad we did this.” Made all 37 blows to the head totally worth it.