A few weeks ago, the family pod and I hit the west coast for another “workation” which included a stop in Vegas for Rock in Rio, a festival Husboy happened to be playing. This time was a little different than the last time we attended the same festival 3 years ago in Brazil…namely because we are responsible for a small human now and not just keeping track of how many Caipirinha’s we’ve had while desperately searching for rogue capuchin monkeys at the Cristo Redentor.
The show fell on Mother’s Day weekend and choosing a little time with my mom (who visited from Florida) brother, and business partner/bestie by the pool beforehand, rather than hours at the Blackjack table, was the best bet I made all weekend. The baby got a chance to dance pretty hard side stage while daddy was at work, despite the sweltering weather. He swayed, he stomped, he sang–and Husboy did alright. too.
I wish I could tell you we stuck around and had a chance to watch the other bands…but I had a much hotter date in mind that night. With Netflix. And pretty much every item on the room service menu. PSA: It turns out “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” does not apply to calorie counts.
Our flight home was in the wee hours of Sunday morn. Let me tell you, the lobby of the MGM Grand at 4:30AM is ROUGH. Like, sophomore year of college rough. It was comical to watch it all going down with an infant strapped to my chest. Then we got in the car to head to the airport and all was quiet. The lights of the city were still flashing, blazing, blaring as we sped by.
I couldn’t help but think that somewhere out there, something bad was happening…someone was wandering lost and broken. Incredible things were happening too. People winning fortunes, falling in love, dancing until they fell down in a boozy hurricane. Most people go to Vegas to live large. To drench themselves in extravagance. But on my very first Mother’s Day, I was so grateful for the simplicity of the moment–sitting in that taxi, with my man and my son. We were just a loving, little family, on our way home.
And for that, I am the luckiest.