Rock out with your tot out

One of my favorite things about living in Detroit: all the free concerts and festivals outdoors in the summer. It's the way I'm hoping to get to see some of my favorite bands without having to give a small ransom to a sitter and feel like I can't stay for the second encore because her mom will be wondering why the hell we keep her out so late. It's also the way we will be able to get Clementine to shows without having her ingest all the second-hand smoke and develop hearning problems and be otherwise scarred from being dragged from bar to bar as an infant so her parents can maintain their sense of themselves as hip, music-loving city folk. We've let go of the delusion, but we still want to go to shows when we can! This weekend is the Detroit Festival of the Arts, and on Friday night one of my all-time favorite local bands, Blanche, played a great set. We had Clementine with us, we all rocked out a little, she danced and we dodged all the hipsters in their tight Levi's, messy shags and white leather shoes who were wondering why the hell there were so many f-ing kids at the show (it's an arts fest, morons, and parents can be cool people, too!).

Yesterday we went back, even though the music wasn't the greatest, to walk around, drink beer in the sunshine and hang out with friends. Clementine decided to go on a sleep strike and declined all her napping opportunities. Did this make for a cranky, irritable baby who slept terribly when at last we took her home for the night? NO. In fact, I am beginning to suspect she may thrive on no sleep whatsoever. She was gregarious, charming the masses from her stroller so that all we could see in the throngs passing through the art fair were these dumb grins down at her. She got to hang out with her boyfriend Hudson and had a grand old time crawling around in the grass, grabbing his pacifier (thank heavens that's all 'cuz last time she was reaching for third base) and shouting and smiling at all the passers-by. We took her to a party later for our friend Rich and took separate cars in anticipation of a total meltdown that would lead to one of us rushing home to spare revelers her tears and antics. Know what? No such meltdown came. She was clearly overtired, but that manifest itself in adorable smiles and nonsense conversations, dancing on her knees and twice taking half a dozen steps totally on her own. She was the belle of the ball, though I was pretty sure her head would start spinning around if we stayed much past 8:30. Lest you think that's where the story of her sleepless delight ends, hold on to your seats. Once I got her down (which took almost and hour because she was so wound up) she slept THE WHOLE NIGHT. Until 6, when she just needed a minute or two of cuddling before she slept until 8. Yes, 8. I am speechless. I know this is what most 9-month-old babies already do, so I'm not expecting applause and oh my goodness how do you do it, wonder-parent? But for her this is a big deal.

So today the plan is to maybe hit a few more bands but also pay attention to our crumbling house. Our big dilemma, though, is whether or not to deprive her sleep and hope for a repeat of yesterday, or to recognize it was a fluke and get back to business. I feel like the good parent thing to do is demand she nap before she gets to rock out, but am I really argue with a near perfect day? And what the hell am I doing blogging on such a beautiful morning anyway? She's got her "Be Loud" t-shirt on and is taking that as a literal commandment, singing and laughing while rolling around with Nate. I think it's time for a pig pile!